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Chapter Text

Ch. 1- On Coming Home

“She’s back! Oi! She’s here!”

Hermione stepped into the familiar surroundings of the crooked home she had come to love so much, breathing in the warm, familiar smell her heart associated with the Burrow. She dropped her bag and ran into the open arms of her best friend, laughing and patting down his unruly hair. Molly looked on from her spot at the kitchen counter with a fond smile on her face. “Welcome home, dear,” she chuckled.

Hermione untucked herself from Harry’s hug, and looked around, smiling to herself. Everything was exactly as she remembered it. She heard the dull rumble of footsteps thundering down the stairs, and quickly found herself in the embrace of Ginny who had beaten Ron down the stairs.

“Thank goodness,” Ginny clucked, releasing Hermione and pushing her long, red hair out of her face. “I was getting sick of being the only girl in the house!” She grabbed Hermione’s hand and began to drag her upstairs to the bedroom they always shared when Hermione came to the Burrow.

“Hey, wait!” called Ron, a disgruntled look on his face, “I didn’t get to say ‘hello’ to Hermione! She was my friend first!”

Ginny continued to pull Hermione up the stairs and called over her shoulder, “Ooh Ronald, Hermione doesn’t want to say ‘hello’ to you. Don’t make things awkward!”

“Ginny!” Hermione squealed, as Ron huffed, falling into a chair, and Harry awkwardly shuffled from one foot to the other.

“Well it’s true!” Ginny explained under her breath as she pulled Hermione into her room. “Now c’mon!” she coaxed, settling on top of her bed and patting the spot next to her, “We have a lot to talk about. I want to hear all about your trip, and I have to fill you in on what you’ve missed while you’ve been away!”

Not long after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had decided she needed to get away. Word had gotten to her that, despite her best efforts to keep them safe and hidden, the Death Eaters had still found and killed her parents, leaving her utterly alone. Though the Weasleys were a pseudo family, and she still had wonderful friends, her family was gone. Harry stayed with her for days after she found out, sitting with her when she cried and attempting to force her to eat. The Weasleys had all drawn into themselves, comforting each other about the loss of Fred. Hermione and Ron quickly discovered that they didn’t know how to be there for each other. Part of Hermione still saw Ron as the boy who would leave her when things got difficult, whereas Ron knew that Hermione would always make him feel inadequate. Ultimately, their relationship never really got off the ground. Feeling as though there was nothing for her to stick around Britain for, Hermione decided she would set out by herself for a while. Harry had offered to come with her, but she knew it was something she had to do alone.

“I have to do this, Harry,” she explained one night in early May while the two of them sat under a tree in the Weasley’s backyard, watching Crookshanks chase a gnome across the overgrown garden in the dim, red light of sunset.

He nodded. “When are you leaving?” he asked.

Hermione shuddered as the wind rustled through the tree and goosebumps covered her arms. She noted that the marks all over her skin from the battle and from Bellatrix vault were slowly healing, less shiny than they had been a week ago. “Tomorrow morning,” she answered, quiet, but resolute.

Harry nodded again, and began playing with a blade of grass he had pulled out of the ground. They sat in silence for a while longer, and then Ginny came out to join them. Hermione briefly explained her plans to Ginny as well.

“This isn’t because of Ron, is it?” she asked and then continued, “Because, you know that we love you, Hermione… whether you’re with Ron or not, you’ll always be family. We’ll always want you here.”

Hermione looked into Ginny’s eyes, darkness now surrounding the three of them. She smiled a sad smile, and shook her head, taking Ginny’s hand. “Gin, you know that’s not it. I don’t run away from my problems. I love Ronald, even if we didn’t work out in that way.” Ginny nodded, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Hermione continued, “I just… I need to spend some time on my own. Without my parents... I feel alone, Gin. I need to move on, in my own way. I just want to put everything familiar out of my mind for a bit.” Ginny sighed, and hugged Hermione, before leaning back into Harry.

Hermione had travelled for the whole summer. She had wept at the Library of Alexandria and swam in the Sua Ocean Trench. She bathed in The Ganges River and climbed to Machu Picchu. She spoke with muggles who swore they had found the most magical places in the world, and wizards who confirmed that, in truth, they had. At some point in her travels her skin had tanned and her grief had lessened. While she knew that the war and the loss of her parents weren’t things she was likely to get over anytime soon, she had come to terms, and had begun to heal. One hot morning, at the end of August, while sitting in a restaurant in the magical community near Osaka, Japan, an owl arrived from Professor McGonagall, inviting Hermione to complete her last year at Hogwarts and to be Head Girl. She knew it was time to return home. She had packed that day, and planned her trip back to the Burrow.

Hermione told Ginny all about her travels. Ginny listened with rapt attention to Hermione’s stories of her many adventures, rolling her eyes whenever Hermione went into too much detail about the history of a certain area, and asked excited questions about all the wizarding communities that Hermione had visited. The girls talked for what felt like hours by the time Hermione had finally finished recalling her adventures.

“So,” Hermione asked, lying down on her stomach, “what have I missed around here?”

“Well,” Ginny started, “a lot has changed. George is doing much better. He actually goes into the shop a couple days a week now. Before he was just letting Lee run it for him. He still won’t put the mirrors back up around his flat, though.” Hermione nodded. She knew that George had, understandably, taken his twin’s death the hardest. Being around a morose George had been one of the hardest parts of staying at the Burrow in the days after the Battle of Hogwarts. With a sigh, Ginny continued. “Also, Harry and I broke up. No, don’t give me that look,” she discouraged with a shake of her head when Hermione had begun to interrupt with a pitying look on her face. “We’re just… different people. Different than before you guys left to go horcrux hunting, I mean. We love each other, don’t get me wrong… but it’s just not meant to be. Harry’s a bit… well, he’s a bit oblivious, isn’t he?” she giggled, and then Hermione joined in, and soon, they were both laying on Ginny’s bed laughing.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, nodding her head and wiping the tears from her eyes, “he can be a bit oblivious. Maybe this is for the best, then… I mean, don’t get me wrong I love him a whole lot—we’ve been through things together that no one could possibly imagine. But still…”

Ginny smiled and sat up. “We get along okay, don’t worry. I mean, I ended things, but I think he was waiting for me to do it. I think we both knew. I need to be with someone more…” she trailed off, thinking.

“Self-assured?” Hermione supplied.

“Yes!” Ginny agreed. “You’d think that someone who defeated the worst dark wizard of all time would have been more self-assured, but Harry is still so naïve in so many ways… and anyway, I don’t think I’m agreeable enough for him. I was never going to be a sweetheart or a damsel in distress... Harry likes taking care of people.”

“And you can take care of yourself,” Hermione replied, with a smile.

“I can, thank you very much. So that’s that. And now, I’m kind of seeing someone new…”

“Based on your tone, I’m a little nervous to ask you who he is”.

“I’ll tell you… but you have to listen to the full story, okay? No judging me.”

“Ginny…”

“I’m serious, Hermione! No judging until you’ve heard everything.”

“Fine. Who is it?”

“Blaise Zabini.”

“Ginny Weasley!” Hermione squealed, hopping off the bed and staring at her friend.

“You said no judging until you heard the whole story, Hermione!”

“I can’t believe you let me ramble on and on about Potala Palace and The Valley of Ghosts, and meanwhile you were holding in that huge… information bomb!”

“Oh come off it, Hermione, it’s not that big of a deal,” the redhead said, rolling her eyes.

“Ginny! Blaise Zabini!”

“Yeah, so? I like him!”

“His best friend is Malfoy!”

“Who cares who his friends are?”

“How are you being so casual about this? Do the boys know?”

Ginny nodded, and pulled Hermione back down to sit on the bed with her. “I’ll tell you the whole story, if you promise to keep your mouth shut.”

“Fine.”

“I mean it, Hermione. No talking until I’m done. I know you. I’ll answer all your questions, but not until I’m finished.”

“Okay, fine. No questions. I’ll be quiet,” Hermione replied with an eye roll, crossing her arms.

Ginny nodded. “After Harry and I broke up, I decided I wanted to get out of the house. I mean, like I said, we’re fine, but still… no one likes to be cooped up in a house with her ex-boyfriend and brothers all day, so I decided to get a job. I only had to bug Mum for a week before she agreed. Mr. Wright hired me to work at Quality Quidditch Supplies. One day, Zabini came in looking for new keeper’s gloves. At first I was really rude to him. I mean, he’s a Slytherin and Malfoy’s best friend, so I didn’t think anything good about him, other than noticing how fit he is. Oh, you know how attractive he is, Hermione, don’t deny that,” she said with a laugh at Hermione’s scandalized face. She got up to pace around her room. “Next thing I know, he’s coming to see me every day and asking me out to dinner with him. Eventually I cracked, and I realized he wasn’t so bad. We talked and got on quite well. We kept on seeing each other every day… we’d go get ice cream or go for walks around the alley. He’s actually very nice. Funny, too.” Ginny smiled to herself, and then continued pacing.

“Anyway, eventually he asked me out, and I agreed, only if he’d come to the house and meet the family. And he did, Hermione! He just agreed, like it was nothing!” Ginny exclaimed, and Hermione had to admit that she was impressed at that. “My family likes him. He brings Mum flowers and plays quidditch with the boys and me. It wasn’t easy at first, of course, but things are okay now… he was persistent.” Hermione nodded, and started to open her mouth to respond, when Ginny cut her off with a shake of her head, her hands out in front of her. “Not yet, Hermione. I’m almost done, but we haven’t… we haven’t gotten to the interesting part of the story yet.” Ginny nervously looked away from her friend and Hermione knew something was coming that she wasn’t going to like.

“After he was so willing to meet my family… well, I felt like I had to return the favor, you know? I mean, he gets along with Harry! I know that most guys wouldn’t be so patient, no matter how good I am at snogging,” she said with a wink, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Ginny continued, “So when he asked if I would, er… meet his friends… well, I couldn’t just say no. He isn’t very close to his mother, and he’s an only child, so the friends he grew up with are more like family than anything.” He and Malfoy are like Ron and Harry, you know…”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide, suddenly understanding where this was going. “Ginny…” she started, but was quickly cut off.

“Honestly, Hermione, he isn’t bad. The way he treated us growing up was all about his shit father. He hates Lucius more than Dad does, I’ll tell you that. The first time we met, he was so polite, I swear. You know me. I was skeptical. I wasn’t going to let him off so easily… but Hermione, he’s really changed. When I first met him he was like… he was like a shell of that jerk we used to know. He’s been nothing but nice since I started seeing Blaise.” At Hermione’s skeptical look she added, “He’s actually been to the house a few times.”

“What?” Hermione bellowed.

Ginny nodded. “I know. It surprised me at first, too, when Blaise said he wanted to come over and apologize. But he did. He had a full helping of crow, let me tell you. Mum was the first to crack, of course. ‘Poor dear, all alone in that horrible house full of dark magic, with his parents in Azkaban!’” Ginny said, in a perfect imitation of her mother. Hermione laughed, picturing it. Ginny continued, “The boys took longer to come around, but they have. Ron is still touchy about it sometimes… but for the most part, they’re fine with him. He comes over with Blaise a lot. They all play quidditch together.”

Hermione sat there, dumbfounded, trying to process all the information she had just received. Ginny was dating a Slytherin. Malfoy had been to the Burrow. Harry and Ron had made nice with Malfoy. They played quidditch together. What alternative universe had she entered? She looked up at Ginny, whose blue eyes were pleading with her. Hermione sighed.

“I’ll give him a chance, Gin. Both of them. This is just… a lot to take in.”

“You were gone for months, Hermione. You missed a lot.”

“So when do I get to re-meet Blaise?”

“He and Malfoy are coming over for dinner tonight.”

Hermione’s heart sunk. She wanted to be a supportive friend, but she really thought she would have more time to get used to this.

“Hermione? It won’t just be them. Lots of people come over for dinner on Sunday. Teddy will be here, though without Andromeda this week. Hagrid comes sometimes, and Bill and Fleur…”

“I’m fine, Gin. I think I’m just gonna go take a shower. How much longer until everyone gets here?”

Ginny looked at her watch. “It’s only 3:00 now. They won’t get here until 5:00, or so. Why don’t you go shower, and then come back here and I’ll help you fix your hair and makeup!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at her friend. “Ginny, I don’t know if I really want you to play Barbie with me…”

“What’s Barbie?” Ginny asked, confusion briefly taking over for her excitement.

“Nothing, never mind. I just don’t know if I’m up to that…” Hermione cautioned.

“Oh, please, Hermione?” she said, folding her hands and putting on her best puppy dog expression. “It’s been so long since I’ve had another girl around!”

Hermione sighed and hesitantly assented before grabbing some things from her bag and heading to the bathroom. She was still trying to wrap her mind around everything that Ginny had just told her, and her head seemed to be spinning. She hoped to sort through her thoughts in peace before facing the rest of the family. Turning the shower on and stepping in, she allowed the steam to slowly unclog her mind as she gradually came to terms with everything she had missed. She had accepted her parents death… she could do anything. This would be nothing. She would give Zabini a chance. She would watch him interact with Ginny and everyone else in her world and keep an open mind. After all, Zabini hadn’t ever done anything outright nasty to her before. If anyone knew what it was like to face persecution, it was her—she would remain open minded. She’d give Malfoy his space. They could be civil. She’d never play quidditch with him, or anything like that, but if Ginny seemed to think he wasn’t all bad then she’d try to be polite. I can do this , she thought to herself while rinsing the shampoo out of her long, bushy hair.

Sometime later, she shut off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. She used her hand to wipe off the fogged up mirror and then quickly toweled off before stepping into her undergarments and a pair of simple jean shorts. She pulled on a bright colored spaghetti strap tank top and wrapped her hair up in a towel,then opened the door. Steam poured out around her as she walked back to Ginny’s room, a small smile on her face. She’d make the best of these changes. After all, she thought, no one should ever complain about having more friends. I’m sure Zabini is very nice.

Ginny was lying across her bed when Hermione came in, playing with the boombox that Hermione had taught her to use. Hermione knew she still wasn’t completely sure about it, but she seemed to enjoy some of the CDs Hermione had given her, especially Aaron Carter and the Spice Girls. Ginny looked up when Hermione entered, and patted the bed eagerly indicating that Hermione should sit down. She carefully pulled a comb through Hermione’s wet, tangled curls, before applying a hair potion and spelling her friend’s hair dry, chattering on about something Luna had done when she came to visit the previous week. She pulled a pair of hoop earrings from Hermione’s bag and instructed her to put them in. Hermione chuckled to herself at her friend’s enthusiasm, as Ginny excitedly nattered on some more. Some things never change , she thought.

Ginny took a long look at Hermione’s face. “What?” Hermione asked.

“You have freckles. I’ve never noticed before,” she replied with a shrug, before applying a glamour to Hermione’s eyelashes, making them longer and darker.

“Yeah, I have them all the time, but they’re much darker when I’ve been in the sun,” she explained. After Ginny applied a gloss glamour to Hermione’s lips, she declared herself done.

“You’re really quite pretty, Hermione. Honestly, you don’t require much maintenance, outside of that hair of yours.”

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror, and admired Ginny’s handiwork—her curls, while still wild, were less bushy and more springy. She tugged on one, and watched it stretch out before popping back into place. She looked over as Ginny pulled her long, red hair into a ponytail on top of her head. Ginny had always been stunning, there was no denying it. She pulled on a black crop top and matching black track pants. “When everyone gets here, we’ll inevitably play quidditch, so I figured I’d better change now,” she explained.

“And your brothers aren’t gonna say anything about your exposed stomach when Blaise gets here?” Hermione asked, lounging back on the bed. Hermione knew the Weasley boys better than most people—there was no way their little sister could show that much skin around a boy without them having something to say.

Ginny shrugged. “They’ll keep their mouths shut if they know what’s good for them. They’re all a little afraid of me, I think. I’m better at hexes than they are,” she replied, with a smug little smile on her face. Then, they heard a knock at the door, and Ron’s voice called up the stairs, “Oi, Ginny! Lover boy is here and he brought his pet ferret!” Ginny looked at Hermione and her face lit up. “They’re here!” she squealed, getting to her feet and pulling Hermione up after her, dragging her from the room.

Well, Hermione thought, here goes nothing.

Chapter Text

Ch. 2- On Being Honest

Hermione watched as Ginny sped down the stairs and threw herself into Blaise’s open arms. He had a large smile on his face and looked just as happy to see her as she clearly was to see him.

“Ginny!” Ron exclaimed from his chair in the sitting room, “Where the bloody hell is the rest of your shirt?” Ginny turned to glare over her shoulder at her brother.

“Language, Ronald!” Molly called, before turning to smile warmly at the two boys who had just entered her home, “Blaise! Draco! How are you, dears? Would you boys help Ginny and Hermione take these things outside? We’re eating in the garden tonight.” She picked up two bowls and shoved them into her daughter’s arms, pointing outside, before sending the others behind her with their arms equally full.

Hermione walked outside to see Ginny and Blaise in a tight embrace beside the table where they had just sat their items. Malfoy rolled his eyes and addressed Hermione, “They do this a lot. You get used to it.”

Ginny broke apart from Blaise and addressed the tall blonde. “Oh, we do not. Shut it,” she said rolling her eyes and turning back to face Blaise.

Malfoy smirked back. “I speak the truth, Red,” he replied with a shrug and turned to address Hermione again. Before he could say anything, however, Blaise stepped in.

“Good to see you again, Granger! Ginny tells us you’ve been off adventuring for the summer,” he said, casually laying an arm around Ginny’s shoulders, “You’ll have to tell us all about it later.”

Hermione smiled. “Yeah, I’d love to. Ginny’s only briefly caught me up on everything I missed this summer, so I’m looking forward to getting to know you better. Any guy brave enough to withstand Ginny’s brothers is okay by me,” she replied, sticking her hand out for Blaise to shake.

He surprised her when he took her hand and kissed the back, the picture of the perfect pureblooded gentleman. “Truthfully,” he whispered conspiratorially, “I’m more afraid of Ginny than her brothers… but don’t tell them I said that.”

At that Hermione laughed, and turned towards the table. The sound of a throat clearing had her turning back around, and meeting the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Standing there, with his hands in the pockets of muggle shorts, he looked almost sheepish. “Uhh,” he started, “Granger, do you think… could we go over there to talk? Just for a minute?” Hermione couldn’t keep the shock from her face, but nodded apprehensively all the same and followed as he walked away from the table towards a large tree in the middle of the Weasley’s backyard. Hermione looked over her shoulder, and saw Ginny give her a wide smile and an encouraging thumbs up. Draco stopped just under the tree, and looked around, awkwardly, before settling on his feet.

“Granger,” he started, somewhat clumsily.

“Malfoy,” she replied in the same formal tone.

“Draco,” he quickly corrected.

“Excuse me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

“Draco. Please, call me Draco,” he explained.

“Why would I do that? We aren’t friends, Malfoy,” she explained, crossing her arms and looking at him defiantly.

“I didn’t say we were, Granger. My name is Draco. I’m asking you to call me by my name,” he snarked back, also crossing his arms. She noted that, even with his arms crossed defiantly, he hardly looked like the boy she had grown up with, without his signature smirk.

“Then you should call me Hermione,” she replied, looking directly at him.

He looked away. “I can’t do that.”

“Well then neither can I,” she stubbornly replied, crossing her arms and looking away.

He sighed and ran his right hand through his hair, his left buried in his pocket. “Look, Granger… I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been a total prat to you our whole lives and I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to hate me forever… hell, I’m going to hate me forever. But for what it’s worth, I am sorry. I don’t want to be ‘Malfoy’ anymore because I don’t want to be associated with all the darkness that comes with it. I’m never going to get a fair chance at a fresh start if I’m always Malfoy”. She was about to tell him that perhaps she thought he didn’t deserve a fair chance, when he looked her in the eyes. Something in his silver eyes made her change her mind… they had softened to an almost gray and looked a bit sad. When he spoke again, it was softer. “Malfoy’s don’t beg… but I suppose I’m not above asking once more. Please, Granger? Call me Draco?” She sighed, and at her hesitant nod, his whole face lit up.

Hermione turned to walk back to the table where everyone else was gathered and said, “I imagine we’ll probably be seeing a whole lot of each other. Ginny made it sound like you and Blaise spend quite a bit of time with her. We might as well get used to feigned civility, yeah?”

Draco’s face fell and he grabbed her arm before she could walk off. The gesture surprised her—she was shocked that he had apologized, sure, but to touch her without any hesitation? Maybe he didn’t believe in blood purity as much as he used to. He cleared his throat and said, “Granger, I just used the word ‘please’ twice. I’ve never done that before. At this point you have to know my intentions aren’t malicious. If it’s all the same to you, I don’t want to feign civility”. At Hermione’s confused look he continued, “I mean I’d like more. I was thinking we could work on friendship.” He waited a few moments, looking at the shocked look on Hermione’s face, and when she didn’t say anything in response, he shrugged and began to walk off. It was her turn to catch him—she grabbed his hand and turned his attention back to her.

“Do you still hate me?” she asked bluntly.

Draco looked taken aback. “Hate you? I never hated you.”

Hermione waved her hand back and forth, as if to tell him that this was inconsequential. “Fine,” she began, rolling her eyes, “then people of my birth. Do you still hate mudbloods?”

Draco cringed. “Please don’t use that word,” he asked. At her surprised expression he continued, “I don’t think I ever really believed in that blood supremacy shit, Granger. I mean, I suppose I might have before Hogwarts, but you have to understand that it had been forced down my throat since I could think. Then I went to Hogwarts and actually met muggleborns… after meeting you, how could anyone possibly think you were any less magical than I am?” She gave him a slight smile, and he continued, “Honestly, Granger, I don’t think I believed in any of that after meeting you. It was mostly stuff that I said to take the piss out of Potter and Weasley… stuff I said so my father would be pleased with me.”

Hermione slowly nodded, unconcealed trepidation still blemishing her features. “And now?” she asked.

He ran his hand through his hair again—his left hand—and Hermione was briefly drawn towards the fading Dark Mark on his arm. “Now?” he said, drawing her attention back to his face, “Granger I saw… a lot of things during the war. I’ll probably be haunted by a lot of shit for the rest of my life. I saw a lot of people bleed… purebloods, muggles, their blood all looked the same. It looked… well, it looked like yours.”

She shuddered and he gave her a long, contemplative, meaningful look, before saying, “That was the worst day of my life, I want you to know that. Watching you and Bellatrix… it was… horrible. And that’s saying something. I lived with Him. I’ve been tortured by Him. I was forced to watch Him do unspeakable things.” Draco sighed and looked off towards the table where everyone was gathered, before looking back at Hermione and fixing her with a concentrated look. “I can’t even pretend anymore that those are things I believe in. Hating you all took a lot of energy. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather just not put in the effort to hate you for something you can’t control and that I don’t care about.”

She smiled at him, then, and he felt lighter. He really thought this would be his hardest apology. Granger, despite her kind and forgiving nature, had a vindictive streak he knew all too well—Edgecomb’s still marred face was proof of that. To be graced with a smile after doing and saying so little? Well , he thought, maybe Red was on to something after all when she told me just to be honest. “Sure, Draco,” she said, breaking him out of his thoughts, and leading him back to the table where everyone else was now gathered, “we can work on being friends.”

Chapter Text

Ch. 3- On Getting to Know Each Other

Monday afternoon found the boys up in the air playing two on two quidditch, while Hermione and Ginny sat under a tree watching them with Hermione tying Ginny’s shiny red hair in a complicated plait she had seen in Witch Weekly. Ginny cheered when Harry made a ridiculous catch and the boys all looked down at them, smiling.

“You want to get in here, Red?” Draco called down to Ginny. Ginny shrugged while Hermione tied off her plait, admiring her work and then picking up a book. “C’mon! We’ll tag out. You can take my place for a bit,” he offered, flying down to where the girls were while Ginny stood up and stretched her long legs. “I’ll even let you borrow my broom,” he said conspiratorially with a smile. She let out an excited whoop and took off on his broom up to where the other three boys were hovering.

Draco turned to Hermione and gestured to the side of her, asking, “Can I sit with you?” She nodded with a smile, and scooted over so that he had a bit more room on the blanket. He sat down, resting his arms on his knees. “What are you reading?” he asked conversationally.

She narrowed her eyes at him and asked, “Why do you want to know?”

He smirked at her, brushing the fringe out of his eyes, and said, “Aren’t we trying to be friends, Granger? That’s a very innocent question.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, his eyes dancing with stifled laughter at her innate suspicion.

She looked at him for a second before deciding to trust him. She showed him the front cover of her book. “ Eugene Onegin ,” he started, nodding his head and shocking Hermione before he continued, “Pushkin is one of my favorite Russian authors. Have you read The Brothers Karamazov ? Dostoevsky is probably my favorite of all time.” At Hermione’s gobsmacked look, he barked out a laugh. “What?” he asked her.

Shaking her head, she asked incredulously, “You read muggle books?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Of course I read muggle books. There’s only so many books by wizards, and hardly any of them are fiction.”

She shook her head, smirking at him. “No one ever knows about my muggle books,” she explained to him.

He laid down on his back, hands over his face, knees still bent. “Well,” he started, “you don’t exactly hang out with the brainiest lot, do you?”

She started to make a defensive retort about her friends, when she noted the smile on his face—there was no malice there, only genuine amusement. She sighed and said, “I suppose I don’t.”

The two continued chatting about the book in Hermione’s hands, and their other favorites, for what could have been hours, while their friends played quidditch overhead. Hermione casually took in Draco’s appearance, while he was animatedly explaining something to her about Far From the Madding Crowd . She’d never seen anyone, save herself, get so excited about books. Draco’s grey eyes were alight, practically silver, and he was gesturing wildly. She smiled. Sure, he was handsome—he had always been handsome. And unfortunately, he knew it, too. But she had never found Draco as attractive as when he was gesticulating wildly about Gabriel Oak and William Boldwood. She took note of his platinum hair, which casually hung in his eyes, and his big, strong hands. She supposed they fit the rest of him. She’d never noticed before that Draco was really quite tall. Lean, perhaps, but still a rather imposing figure. When he doesn’t have that horrid smirk on his face, he’s actually quite fit, she thought to herself, just as Draco seemed to be rounding to a point about Bathsheba Everdene.

“Oi!” called Harry, and the two looked to see their friends flying down to meet them, “What’re you two talking about?” Harry landed, and gave Hermione a skeptical look.

She met his eyes and responded with a small smile, “Books.”

Ron landed beside Harry and rolled his eyes dramatically. “We should’ve figured, Harry. She’s always talking about books. Sorry, Malfoy, we should’ve warned you,” he said, throwing an amused look Draco’s way.

Blaise came up and threw a hand on Ron’s shoulder, laughing. “She’s found her match, then. Draco’s always trying to tell us about whatever book he’s got his nose in at the time,” he explained, while his best mate stood up from his place beside Hermione, brushing off his legs.

“I wonder what Molly’s making for dinner?” Draco asked, casually changing the subject before their friends could continue to poke fun at their shared interest in muggle literature.

After dinner, the group of six went outside and decided to take a walk down the hill and into town. Ron and Draco were animatedly arguing about which quidditch teams would make the finals this season, while Ginny and Harry discussed Kingsley’s bid for Minister of Magic at the end of his temporary term. Blaise veered towards Hermione, who was walking on the outside of the group, silently observing everyone.

“Granger,” he started, “I’m not usually one for serious conversation, but I just need to… thanks for giving us a chance. Draco and me, I mean. We probably don’t deserve your kindness… that prat, especially, but I appreciate it. You don’t know how much it meant to him that you agreed to talk to him yesterday.” Hermione smiled at him, and took in the appearance of the Italian man her friend was so taken with. He was tall—not quite as tall as Draco or Ron, but indisputably taller than Harry. He looked strong and muscular and had dark skin and perfectly white teeth. She supposed she could see what Ginny saw in him.

“It’s no problem, Blaise. Ginny seems to like you guys, and she’s my best girlfriend. I mean, if I make her mad, who will teach me charms for my ridiculous hair?” Hermione responded with a smile and a wink.

“Hey! I’m good for more than my hair charms, Hermione Granger!” Ginny exclaimed at her in mock indignation.

Everyone laughed and then Ron replied, “Well sure, but Hermione can defend herself. Your hexes and jinxes are of no use to her, but she’s always struggled with that mess!” He made a gesture to all of Hermione’s hair, which had admittedly grown in size due to the late August humidity. Hermione smiled good-naturedly, but hoped they’d move on. It wouldn’t do to get all huffy and insecure—Ron hadn’t ever understood tact. Just when she was about to retort, though, Draco spoke up.

“I don’t know, Weasley,” he started, “I’ve always liked Granger’s hair. It’s kind of her signature, you know? Her trademark. She wouldn’t be her without it.” Hermione shot a surprised look at Draco, who gave her a small smile which she gratefully returned. He doesn’t mean that, she thought to herself, but it was nice of him to jump to my defense all the same.

“Oh come off it!” Ron exclaimed, clearly not taking the hint from the glare Harry was throwing his way, “No one likes Hermione’s hair! Hermione doesn’t like Hermione’s hair! It’s horrid!”

“Yes yes, we get it, Ronald. You don’t think I’m attractive,” Hermione huffed. She was about to continue when Draco cut in again.

“Weasley, quit being a rude prat. Everyone knows you’re just upset because she’s a stunner and you two couldn’t make it work!” In her confusion, Hermione completely missed the knowing glance that Ginny shot at Draco after his statement. Ron, meanwhile, went completely red.

“You’re one to talk, Malfoy. You made all kinds of nasty comments about Hermione in school! And not just about the way she looks!”

Draco bristled. “But I never claimed to be her best friend, did I?” he said in a low, dangerous voice, before continuing much more conversationally, “Besides, I’ve already told Granger I didn’t mean any of that. She never let the shit I said bother her. I solely said that rubbish because it infuriated you two.” He indicated Ron and Harry, before tucking his hands into his pockets. Ron looked as though he were going to make another nasty retort, and so Hermione stepped in.

“Can we be done with this conversation now? Please?” she asked, giving all her friends a pleading look. Ron angrily stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered off a bit as the village came into view ahead of them. Harry shot Hermione an apologetic look, and made to chase after his hot headed friend.

“What a wanker,” Ginny muttered in disgust, looking at her brother, before turning her attention to Hermione. “Ignore him, Hermione,” she said, “Draco’s right. He’s upset he couldn’t keep your interest.”

Hermione gave Ginny a weak smile. “You know Ron… he’s always been a bit tactless. It’s not the first time he’s insulted me, and it certainly won’t be the last. He’s always had something to say about my hair. But really, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s get some ice cream, all right?”

The teenagers walked around the village and into little shops, eventually meeting up with Harry and Ron, the latter of whom had seemed to calm down and was clearly intent on pretending nothing had happened. They went into the ice cream shop, and the boys all laughed when the girl behind the counter overtly flirted with a very flustered Draco. The group then meandered about for a bit, but as night began to fall and shops started closing, they decided to part ways for the day. Finding themselves a secluded back alley, Harry and Ron shook hands with Draco and Blaise, and then quickly disapparated back to the Burrow. Hermione listened as Draco promised that he and Blaise would be over the next day, and waited awkwardly while Ginny gave Blaise a very nonverbal goodbye. After an uncomfortable minute passed Draco called in an annoyed voice, “Oi! Zabini, mate! Let her go! The girls need to get home, and so do we!” Hermione shot him a grateful look, as Ginny and Blaise uncoiled themselves from around each other.

“You’re a big baby, Malfoy. We need to find you a bird so you’ll quit being so whiny!” Blaise said, clearly in jest, with a smile on his face. He continued, “Why don’t you go find that muggle ice cream girl, yeah? Give her a good snog and leave me to say a proper goodbye to my girl in peace!”

Draco grabbed Blaise’s shoulder, and pulled him away from Ginny with a laugh. “I don’t want to snog the ice cream girl! I want to go home! Wish the ladies a goodnight, and let’s be on our way. You’ll see Red tomorrow, and you can go back to attempting to remove her tonsils then!” Blaise mock punched Draco in the stomach before going back over to where Ginny and Hermione were watching their whole exchange, amused. He first kissed the back of Ginny’s hand, and then Hermione’s, before bidding them both a good evening. Draco turned and said in a polite voice, “Granger, Red” giving Hermione a nod and a mock salute to Ginny. Then, grabbing Blaise’s arm, he turned on the spot, and the boys were gone.

Back at the Burrow in their bedroom, Ginny began the process of taking out her plait, while Hermione changed into an old Rolling Stones t-shirt that had once belonged to her father. “So,” said the red-haired friend, “Draco defended you to Ron… that was interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

Someone else might have thought this question innocent based off of Ginny’s conversational tone, but Hermione knew her friend better than that. She was being probed. “Mhm,” she responded, noncommittally, pulling on a pair of faded pajama shorts.

Ginny pulled off her own bottoms, and began changing into a long quidditch jersey that could have belonged to any of the Weasley boys, and gave Hermione an appraising look. “Right,” she said slowly, before turning down the covers and getting into bed.

Hermione was pleased that Ginny seemed to be satisfied, but knew that the conversation wasn’t over, only on hold for a later time. “Night, Gin!” she exclaimed to her friend as she placed her wand on the bedside table before turning over and falling asleep.

Meanwhile, across Britain, Draco and Blaise settled into the large chairs in the library of Malfoy Manor, each with a glass of firewhiskey. Blaise had Draco fixed with a knowing stare that Draco was carefully pretending not to notice as he inspected his fingernails.

“So…” the Italian finally said, when it became clear Draco wasn’t going to acknowledge him.

The blond haired man looked up at his friend. “Yes?” he asked, feigning indifference.

Blaise barked out a laugh at him. “You’re such a wanker! You know exactly what that ‘so’ was about! I didn’t miss the look that Gin gave you after you jumped in to be Granger’s white knight. You fancy her, don’t you?”

Draco threw back the rest of his drink in one go, before setting his glass down and turning to his friend. “I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about, Blaise. You’ve been spending too much time in the heat, I think.”

Blaise rolled his eyes at his oldest friend. “Draco mate, for all that ‘Malfoy mask of indifference’ shit that Lucius drilled into you, you’re really transparent sometimes.” He paused, studying Draco’s face. “It’s okay, mate,” he started, cautiously. Draco gave him a questioning look. “To fancy her, I mean. She’s a nice girl. Smart as hell, too, so she won’t bore you like all the other girls you’ve considered pursuing.” At Draco’s eye roll, Blaise decided to see if he could provoke his friend a bit. “She’s fit, too,” he said casually, sipping his whiskey and keeping an eye on his friend, who had let a telltale glint of jealousy flit across his face before he schooled his features to indifference once more. “I mean, I like my little lioness, don’t get me wrong… but Granger certainly isn’t hard on the eyes. Classically pretty, you know… and she’s got a nice arse…”

Blaise started to say something else when Draco propelled himself out of his seat, walking across the room and running his hands through his hair. “Oh, all right, then! Shut up, you git! Yes, yes, I fancy her.” Too easy, Blaise thought smugly to himself, before looking to see Draco had fixed him with a dangerous glare. “I don’t want to hear you talk about her arse ever again, Zabini. I mean it. You’re my best mate, but I won’t hesitate to hex you.”

Blaise laughed. “I never knew what a jealous prat you could be, Malfoy! I must admit I’m a bit upset that my girl knew your feelings before I did.”

“It’s not like that, mate,” Draco said, sauntering back across the floor and sinking down into his seat. “Remember a couple weeks ago when I filched that bottle of firewhiskey from the kitchen and we got pissed with Red, Harry, and the Weasel?” Blaise nodded with a smirk, knowing where this story was going, and Draco continued with a sigh. “Well you lot were all… I don’t know, probably ass-over-head somewhere, if I had to guess, and Red cornered me. At first we were just talking cause she wanted to know if I had really changed and I wanted to know how serious she saw things getting with you—“ Blaise interrupted with a quick, “oi!” but Malfoy ignored him and continued, “—but then somehow I was drunker than I thought and she was just… telling me things, you know? About that horrible diary Father gave her, from years ago, and how badly it messed her up at first… and she was telling me about Potter and about growing up poor as hell and shit, I don’t know… She told me the worst moment of her life was thinking Potter had died… And before I knew it, I was telling her about the worst moment of my life… watching Granger be tortured…” Draco stared into the fire, with a haunted expression on his face and blank eyes.

“I’m sorry, Draco…” Blaise started leaning over to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, which seemed to shake Draco out of his reverie.

“It’s just… she could relate, you know? She knows what that pain is like. I mean, Potter wasn’t tortured in front of her or anything, but she thought that someone she cared about, someone she had feelings for, well, you know. And me telling her about it… she guessed, mate. I’ve never told anyone. No one knew before Ginny. And… I don’t know, I hoped she’d be too sloshed to remember the next day, but ever since that night she’s had it in her head that I should tell Granger. Stupid, really. What the hell would Granger do with that information?”

Blaise shook his head and gave his friend a small smile. “Gin knows Granger better than most people, mate. If she says you should tell her… well, maybe you should consider it?”

Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise’s perpetual hopefulness. Of course he’s optimistic, Draco thought, he captured the attention of his little Gryffindor right away. He didn’t spend years torturing her friends so she’d pay attention to him. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that today hadn’t gone badly. As odd as it was, the more people who he told about his secret, the more sanguine he felt.

Chapter Text

Ch. 4- On Trying New Things

The next day, Hermione woke up with the sun. She quietly got out of bed and tiptoed down the stairs. None of the Weasleys were known for being early risers, and she figured the kitchen would likely be quiet. Mrs. Weasley was fussing with a load of laundry, but smiled when she saw Hermione coming down the stairs.

"What can I get you, dear? I haven't started breakfast yet. I assumed you lot wouldn't be up for a while still!"

Hermione smiled and shook her head, saying, "You don't have to make me breakfast, Mrs. Weasley. I'll just make myself some tea, and then be out of your way." Mrs. Weasley gave a disapproving look at Hermione's idea of breakfast, but didn't say anything, as she picked up her laundry basket and left the room.

Hermione began to make herself a cuppa and reflected on everything that had changed since the end of the war. Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley casually debated quidditch yesterday, she thought with a smile. And even more disturbingly, Draco Malfoy defended me from Ron. What is happening? Next thing I know Neville will be quidditch captain!

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear someone else come down the stairs and pull out a chair at the table. She turned around with her tea in hand and leapt into the air, dropping her cup at the sight of Harry sitting at the table smiling at her. "Goodness, Harry!" she exclaimed, bringing her hand up to her chest where her heart was racing.

"Sorry," he replied self-consciously, using his wand to cast a quick Reparo on the broken cup before vanishing the tea that had spilled all over the floor. He pulled out the seat beside him and gestured for Hermione to take it. "Sit," he said, "I'll make us both a cup. It'll be like we're in the tent again." He smiled at her, and she shook her head at him, but smiled all the same. "How are you doing with all of this?" he asked her.

"It has been quite a lot to take in. I was actually just thinking about that when you came down the stairs. First finding out about my parents, then leaving for so long, and then coming home and finding out how much things have changed. I suppose I feel a little…" she began to trail off, thinking of the right words.

"Out of place?" he offered. She nodded. "We all missed you, honestly, even Ron. We thought about you a lot. Zabini and Malfoy probably feel like you were here with how much we talked about you. I felt like I was missing an arm, or something. You've been with me through everything, Hermione. Everything."

"I wish I had been here to help this summer… I'm sorry I wasn't here when you and Ginny broke up. How are…" she started, but Harry cut her off.

"I'm fine, Hermione, really. I promise it was very mutual. I mean, I love her… but I don't think we're what the other needs. Ginny is… she's fiery, you know? She needs someone who can deal with that. I felt like I was trying to tame her. She's like a damned horntail!" he said with a laugh, and Hermione could see the honesty in his eyes. He continued, "I just feel like… Ginny needs to be with a sports car. Something fast and exotic and dangerous. I'm like a sedan; practical, reliable and comfortable, but not necessarily sleek. Ginny and I were getting along all right, but I knew there was a better fit for both of us. Now she has an Italian Ferrari and he seems to suit her a bit better. I'm just waiting for the right girl who is looking for something a bit less sporty… a bit more dependable, you know?"

Hermione laughed. "You seem to have really thought out this whole car metaphor."

Harry gave her a big smile. "I haven't been able to use it. No one around here knows what the hell I'm talking about. I'm glad I can finally use the example on someone."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "For what it's worth, Harry," she explained, taking the cup of tea he offered, "I think you're both being incredibly mature about this. And I don't want you to think of yourself as… what was it? Not sleek? You know there are tons of girls out there who find you perfectly fanciable and quite handsome. I've seen some very fetching sedans." She gave him a small wink, and he blushed.

Harry grabbed her right hand and held it with both of his. "I love you, Hermione. I don't tell you enough cause, well, I'm a bloke and we're all a bit awkward. But you'll always be the sister I never had. I can't imagine how you must be feeling about everything with your parents, because I never knew mine… but just know you still have family. You still have me."

The two friends sat there in companionable silence for a while, drinking their tea and taking comfort in each other's presence. Harry can be a bit obtuse at times, Hermione thought as she rinsed her cup in the sink, but he is family. Soon they were joined by the rest of the Weasley family; Arthur first, dressed in his work robes, then Ginny, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and finally Ron graced them with his presence, being lured out of his room with the smell of bacon.

Before long, the table was cleared and everyone disappeared to various places. While the boys went into the sitting room, Hermione went up to the room she shared with Ginny to dress for the day. She opened her bag, trying to decide on something to read before ultimately settling on a spell book and decided she would take it outside and practice her spell work in the garden.

It was a muggy sort of day, and Hermione immediately regretted not tying her hair up as her tank top allowed it to curl up into her sticky armpits. With a disgusted noise she ripped her hair away from her underarms and attempted to remove the deodorant that was now coating the ends. Giving it up as a bad job, she pulled the hairband off her wrist and tied her hair up in a bun on top of her head. There, she thought, no distractions, time to get busy. She found a shady spot near the shed and set about practicing incantations.

As the sun travelled across the sky, Hermione began to realize she was growing hungry. Tucking her book under her arm, she resolved to ask Ginny if they could practice dueling later on and set her course for the kitchen. When she opened the back door, she found the kitchen to be quite full. Ron and Draco were at the table playing a game of wizard's chess and seemed to be deep in concentration. Luna was animatedly describing something to Harry, gesturing at a copy of the Quibbler in her hand while Harry looked to be attempting to flee. Ginny and Blaise were nowhere to be seen, but a quick venture into the sitting room found them wound very tightly around each other in a chair. Ginny was sitting on Blaise's lap and his hands were in her hair, while they alternated between speaking to each other in hushed tones and snogging. Hermione quickly excused herself from their presence and hurried back into the kitchen to find some lunch. After some foraging, she managed to find a sandwich and crisps and settled down into the kitchen chair beside Ron. While it was common knowledge that Ron was the undisputed champion at wizard's chess, it appeared that Malfoy was giving him a run for his money.

Hermione watched their game with interest. It seemed that both boys were experts at knowing exactly which pieces to play at which times. Ron did not have the subtlety for the muggle card games that Harry and she had tried to teach him, but he was a brilliant strategist. Malfoy, it seemed, was equally skilled in that vein. At some point, Harry settled into the chair next to Draco, stealing some crisps from Hermione's plate and watching the game with equal interest, while Luna sat down on Ron's other side and began reading her Quibbler. After what seemed like ages, Ron eked out a narrow victory against Draco, and the five then went into the sitting room where, mercifully, Blaise and Ginny had already untangled themselves. Hermione was going to ask Ginny if she would like to go outside and practice dueling, but a glance out the window showed Hermione that it had started raining.

The group of seven sat around chatting animatedly about various things, ranging from Wizengamot policy—"they certainly won't be passing a Marriage Law, Potter! Are you daft? That's a human rights violation!"—to Hagrid's creature curriculum—"oh come off it, Luna! You cannot possibly tell me that you actually liked those horrid skrewts! Don't be ridiculous." At some point they began discussing the new Muggle Studies class that Headmistress McGonagall decided would be compulsory for all purebloods and halfbloods who were not raised in the muggle world. While Hermione and Harry thought it was a good idea, the rest of the group—albeit, those impacted by the decision—weren't so sure.

Finally, Hermione had heard enough protest. "Really now! I had to learn all kinds of new things when I entered the magical world. Muggles don't do anything like wizards do. Sending mail by owl? Completely unfathomable to me. Travelling by fireplace? Totally foreign. It's like waking up one day and finding out that, although you've been told you're English all your life, you're actually American, and are expected to understand all of their customs. Everything from the way you dress to the animals you're familiar with are completely different. Only Harry could understand that. You lot have no idea!" she fumed, crossing her arms and throwing herself back down into the chair that she had vacated while ranting.

The group seemed to settle at that. They had never thought of it in that way before. Finally, Draco spoke up.

"Teach us, Granger," Draco requested resolutely. His face was serious, but the twinkle in his silver eyes let her know he was curious, as well.

"What?" she asked, puzzled at his meaning. If she was taken aback, it was nothing to the way everyone else reacted—mouths were hanging open all around the room.

"Take us to do something muggle. Show us their world," he responded, just as sure sounding as the first time.

"But you've all been in the muggle world. Just last night we went into town to get ice cream." she sputtered, confused. But Draco just shook his head.

"I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually encountered muggles. Before I started hanging out with this lot, I hadn't ever interacted with one at all. And all those experiences have been quite limited. Take us into muggle London. I want to… be around them. See how they do things," he responded with genuine interest in his tone.

"He's right," Ginny agreed, nodding and coming to sit beside Hermione. "Our interactions with muggles have been very restricted. Take us to do something purely muggle."

"Today?" she asked, looking around the room at the rest of the group. Harry was completely indifferent whereas Ginny and Draco seemed quite excited. Blaise and Ron had the same reluctance littered across their faces but were nodding all the same. Luna looked mildly intrigued, though truthfully, Hermione was not sure if she was thinking about the prospect of venturing into muggle London or if it was just her signature expression.

"All right…" Hermione started, thinking. "Well, what about going to the cinema?" She looked at the confused expressions of five of her friends while Harry chuckled to himself. Hermione glared at him and he felt he should intervene lest he find himself on his friend's bad side.

"Do you guys remember a few days ago when I described the telly to you?" The group nodded. "Well, this is just like that. Except much larger. Muggles go to the cinema and watch films, which are longer than programs are on the telly. You can watch films at home, of course, but at the cinema it's more of a social thing. You go with friends or a date and you buy treats and you watch the film on a giant screen."

"And muggles do this often?" Draco asked, clearly nonplussed.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, this is a pretty standard activity for muggles." The group murmured their interest and Hermione continued, "Right then, Harry, what should we take them to see? Ooh! What about—" she began, but her friend cut her off.

"Hermione, nothing historical and nothing romantic. Do you want to turn them off film forever?" he asked with a smile, though Hermione knew there was an element of truth to that.

She thought aloud, "Yes, I suppose you're right. While I was in Italy, I heard two American teenagers talking about a new action film, Armageddon. It's supposed to be very good. How about that?"

Harry quickly agreed, and then Hermione established the plan. They decided they would all floo to Diagon Alley and then walk into muggle London. Hermione would lead them all to a nearby cinema where they would watch the earliest showing of the action film they could attend, then they would have dinner afterwards in a muggle restaurant.

Once everyone was safely inside the cinema, and Hermione had sent Harry to look at times of the showings, she turned to see how the rest of their group was doing. Luna was staring off into space, clearly unfazed by her surroundings. Draco and Blaise were standing close together, talking and peering around, attempting to take everything in. Ginny was staring at a couple of teenage boys who had just walked in, all in trendy clothes. It was apparent that they were not afraid to check her out, either. True to form, Ron was staring avidly at the popcorn machine. Hermione smiled in her friend's direction. Some things just never change.

"We will get snacks before the film, Ron. I promise," she assured him with a small smile, and he smiled back at her, blushing at the fact that she had caught him ogling the display.

"Good news!" exclaimed Harry, coming up towards them and waving tickets in his hand. "There is a showing at half two so we won't have to wait long at all. Oi!" he exclaimed, and Hermione turned her attention to where he was now storming off. She giggled to herself, and went over to help him. Ginny was surrounded by the muggle boys that had made eyes at her when they came in, and it appeared as though they were trying to chat her up. "Get away from her! What do you think you're doing?" he bellowed, walking up to where one of the boys- a tall, good looking bloke with dark hair and eyes- was standing a bit too close to Ginny to be considered polite.

The ruckus Harry was causing caught the attention of everyone in the surrounding area, including Blaise, who now looked indignant because that not only some muggle thought he could hit on his girl, but also that Harry felt he had to defend her honor. "You get away from her, too, Potter!" Blaise shouted, tearing after Harry. Draco shot a dismayed look at Hermione, who watched in horror as Harry and Blaise shouted at each other, and at the group of muggle teens, in turn.

"She is my girlfriend!"

"Well keep your eye on her then so that I don't have to go chasing after her for you!"

"The lady can speak for herself and she seemed to be enjoying her conversation with us, weren't you, love?"

There was a resounding whack sound, and Hermione turned to see the surprised muggle next to Ginny with an incensed look on her face. "Do not touch me! Next time, I'll hit you harder!" Hermione ran over to her friend while the muggle boys scurried off, muttering foul words in quiet tones. After insuring that Ginny was okay—"I'm fine, Hermione, really. I was just talking to them. I don't know what all this commotion is even about!"—Hermione turned to see Ron with an arm around Harry's shoulder, clearly cajoling him, and Draco pushing on Blaise's chest, backing him up to sit on a blue, plastic bench resting near a fake plant against one of the walls.

Hermione looked to Ginny, who shrugged, as if to indicate she didn't care which group of boys she went to go check on. Then the redhead explained, under her breath, "I'm a bit annoyed with Blaise, at the moment. All of that nonsensical, macho rubbish. I can take care of myself, and he knows that. There's no need for him to go picking fights with Harry. You take those two," she pointed to the Slytherins before turning her gaze to her brother and her ex, "and I'll take those idiots." Hermione nodded, and headed in the direction of Draco and Blaise.

"…and Granger went through the trouble of taking us out into the muggle world and this is how you thank her, mate? That's not very considerate. You're acting like a bit of a tosser." Draco finished his diatribe as Hermione approached, and she gave him a small smile of thanks before sitting down on Blaise's other side.

"Ginny doesn't want to be with Harry, Blaise. She likes you," she said softly, putting her hand on Blaise's knee.

He snorted, inelegantly. "Perhaps not, but he's still in love with her."

In her most comforting voice Hermione pacified, "Harry didn't go after Ginny because he's in love with her… he went after her because that's his thing. Harry's always saving someone. He sees trouble, and he jumps in to stop it… usually without thinking." Blaise appeared to be temporarily placated, so she continued, "I won't deny that he still likely loves her. He was in love with her for some time and that doesn't just go away, you know? But he's my best friend and I know him. I know that when he tells me he likes the two of you together, he isn't lying."

Blaise gave Hermione a long, measuring look that she did not shy away from, and after a moment picked her hand up off his knee and kissed the back of it. "Thanks, Granger," he said, simply. She gave him a nod, which he returned, and then got up and set off in the direction of the other trio, which had turned into a quartet as it appeared Luna had joined them.

"He doesn't know how to be jealous," Draco told her in a confidential tone. She looked over at him, and he scooted a bit closer to her before continuing, "I mean, he's used to being the bloke that all the girls chase. He's never worked as hard for a bird as he did with Red. He really likes her. The thought of her ex being the Chosen One… well, you can understand how that would be intimidating."

Hermione gave a small chuckle. "I suppose I can see how that idealized version of Harry would be intimidating, yes. To me he'll always be the boy that leaves dirty socks all over the room he shares with Ron or who has an uncanny ability for stepping on Crookshank's tail. I mean, I know he defeated Voldemort, but he is still kind of an idiot sometimes."

The blonde gave her a smirk, but without the malice behind it that she had become so used to. "Either way, thank you for talking him down a bit." He paused for a moment, steeling himself to display a bit of the casual warmth that it seemed Gryffindors were so fond of, and placed a hand on her knee. "He can be a bit of a wanker, but he really cares about Red. I would hate to see him muck it up over something silly."

Hermione kept her eyes fixated on the hand on her knee. It was large, strong, and surprisingly calloused for someone who had been brought up in the lap of luxury. His hand was remarkably cool, and she had a fleeting thought that with his cool, pale, perfect skin he could almost be a marble statue. Breaking her focus from the hand on her naked knee, Hermione placed her own hand atop his before turning to him with a kind look on her face. She did not miss the momentary look of surprise that crossed his features before he schooled them into something a bit more stoic. It appeared that Draco was surprised by her willingness to show him any sort of affection. But if his hand tightening imperceptibly around her knee was any indication, he certainly was not upset by it either.

"You're a good friend," she told him, and a light blush covered his cheeks as he smiled at her. His smile lit up his whole face, and made her smile at him in return. He didn't think he had ever seen her look more stunning than when she was smiling, and he took pride in knowing that this smile belonged to him.

"Will you two come on? We want to get sweets before the film starts!"

Hermione turned to see Ron looking expectantly at the two of them. They both quickly withdrew their hands and headed over to where the rest of their friends were gathered. It appeared that Blaise and Harry had made up, and Ginny had forgiven both of them for acting like prats.

Hermione and Harry helped everyone pick and purchase treats for the film. Ron was especially enthusiastic about all of the varieties of sweets that he had never seen before and insisted upon trying one of everything, as well as a large popcorn. They led the group to the right door and then showed them where the correct aisle was. Hermione and Harry had already decided to disperse themselves somewhat evenly between the others so that they could answer any questions that they might have without drawing too much attention to themselves. As such, Hermione found herself nestled between Ginny and Draco.

As the previews began to play, Draco noticed that in her haste to make sure everyone else was taken care of, Hermione had neglected to get herself something from the snack stand. He insisted that she share his popcorn, which made her give him another large smile and he happily returned it. Ginny, meanwhile, covertly gave him a knowing, amused look when Hermione was not looking. He rolled his eyes at her, and she sat back in her seat, smiling to herself.

Initially, Harry and Hermione fielded a great deal of questions, but by the time the movie began to pick up it seemed that everyone was rather engrossed in what they were watching. Action films had never been Hermione's greatest interest, and so she entertained herself throughout by slyly sneaking looks at the mesmerized expressions on her friends' faces.

"…and when his life flashed before his eyes, I didn't know what was going on at first, but when I realized, I couldn't stop crying!" Ginny explained to Hermione and Luna, while the boys all discussed the movie together in loud, excited voices at the back of the group.

"All right, everyone," Hermione called, gathering the group in a small circle in an alley outside the cinema, "if it's okay with you lot, I know of a nice, little place we can go. We'll have to take the underground, but it's not too far from here—in Hampstead. I used to go there all the time with Mum and Dad…"

Sensing Hermione might need a moment at the mention of her parents, the rest of the group quickly rallied to concur that she should lead the way. Harry and Hermione tried to get the group of wizarding teens through the underground without making a spectacle, but it proved to be a bit of a challenge. Luna wanted to study everyone they came into contact with and Draco and Blaise seemed to be afraid to touch much of anything. Eventually they came to their stop and found themselves outside a small pub. Hermione held open the door as they all filed in.

The group quickly found themselves a spot in the back where they would not attract too much attention. They took turns discussing their favorite parts of the film and making comments about the muggle interactions they had seen on screen in hushed voices. The waiter came by and took their orders for salty crisps, juicy burgers, and pints all around. It was only a short while later when he brought their food and silence fell over the table as everyone quickly dug in. It seemed that everyone was excited for their food, but none more so than Draco, who was positively delighted at the idea of eating with his hands.

"We don't do this at the Manor," he explained between bites, "Mother would skin me alive if I suggested eating a meal without a proper fork and knife. I'm still getting used to doing this."

Hermione smiled, and pointed to Draco's chin where a drop of mustard sat precariously, waiting for the right moment to drop on to his pristine white polo. He nodded his thanks before wiping it off, and Ginny sat back in her chair, noting the ease with which Hermione was warming up to the tall blonde. At this rate, she thought to herself taking a long drink from her pint, getting them together is going to be easier than I thought.

Chapter Text

Ch. 5- On Swimming and Films

Wednesday was hot. Hermione and Ginny sat around in the shade of their bedroom, fanning themselves with magazines and gossiping about the classmates they would be seeing in less than a week. It had been a long morning for Hermione, with Ginny only having just returned from her job, and was shaping up to be an even longer afternoon if they did not think of something to do. Harry and Ron had gone to help George in the shop as he was seeing an influx in customers with the school year fast approaching, and had promised the two a hefty wage if they came to help out. Hermione knew that Harry would decline the money, but it was nice that George offered it all the same.

"I know!" Ginny exclaimed suddenly, sitting up from where she was lounging on her bed. "Let's go swimming! There's a creek that runs through the orchard. It even leads to a small lake."

"Ooh yes, that sounds wonderful!" Hermione replied, hopping off the bed and moving to pull on her swimming costume.

The girls pulled on matching bikinis, Ginny in a light blue and Hermione in red, and threw their clothes back on overtop. After grabbing towels and shouting a quick explanation to Mrs. Weasley about where they were headed, they took off for the creek in the shaded orchard behind the Burrow.

Giggling as they pulled off their clothes, they raced each other down into the cool water. Though it did not come very high- only to about their knees- the girls sat down in the shallow water and instantly felt relief from the miserable heat of the day. They splashed and giggled before soon relaxing up against the water's edge, their bodies as submerged as they could be under water. Ginny told Hermione about all the classmates she had seen so far coming through Diagon Alley, and they wondered who would return to classes with them.

"It will certainly be interesting… I'm nervous to see what everyone will say about Blaise. I mean, I don't especially care, people have always liked to gossip, but still…" Despite her resilient words and resolute tone, the ill-disguised look of apprehension on her friend's face told Hermione everything she needed to know about how Ginny was actually feeling.

Hermione grabbed Ginny's hand and gave her a bracing look. "No matter what, Gin, you know you have me. And Luna is coming back with us so you will have her, too. I am sure people will have things to say at first, but eventually they will get over it, they always do."

Ginny flashed Hermione a smile. "Oh, I'm not fussed with what a bunch of stupid prats have to say behind my back, and no one is thick enough to say things to my face." Hermione saw a wicked smile flash across Ginny's face and knew she was in for trouble. "But what about you, Hermione?" Ginny said with a false innocence that did not fool her friend in the slightest. "Given any thought to dating this year?"

Luckily, Hermione was saved the necessity of answering by a rustling noise coming from somewhere above them in the nearby trees. Suddenly, Blaise and Draco popped through the branches, and Hermione and Ginny propped themselves up on the edge of the bank with their elbows, greeting the boys.

"Molly told us you ladies were out here." Blaise explained, dropping down to sit in the grass.

"It's such a large orchard, how did you find us?" Hermione asked, perplexed. At Draco's mischievous grin she thought to herself, perhaps I shouldn't have asked.

"Oh, Ginny has brought Blaise here before," Draco explained with mock innocence, "Multiple times, too, if I had to guess based on how quickly he found the place. One has to wonder what the two of you get up to, all alone out here…" He trailed off at the end of his sentence with another grin and cheeky wink at Ginny, leaving the ending open to interpretation. Hermione went red, and a faint pink came to Blaise's cheeks as well, but Ginny just laughed and tossed a nearby stick at Draco.

"What are you waiting for, then? Get in! It's too hot to muck about up there!" Ginny explained, unlatching herself from the side of the bank, and settling down into the cool water again.

Draco chuckled before explaining, "We didn't bring suits, Red. And as much as I know you would enjoy it, I don't think Blaise fancies the idea of me going about starkers… he knows you'd leave him for me in an instant."

Blaise punched Draco in the arm, and Ginny spoke up again. "Can't you swim in your pants? Or are you going to be prissy about it, Malfoy?"

"It is not about being prissy, though that water looks quite dodgy… but no, it is hardly becoming of a gentleman to go traipsing about in his underthings in front of ladies!" he replied, feigning humor, but Hermione could tell he was quite serious about what he was telling them. Ginny began making chicken noises as Blaise undressed down to his pants. She stuck her chin out in a challenging manner, daring Draco not to join them.

"Fine then, witch. But when you get all randy and your bloke here strangles me to death, just know that you are the one that cocked it all up." he said with a smile, pulling off his vest.

Hermione found herself staring without the ability to help herself. She never imagined she would see Draco Malfoy shirtless. Even if she had taken the time to imagine it, it would not have been anything even half as lovely as his actual appearance. She had never seen skin as pale as his- in the shade of the trees he seemed to almost glow. Quidditch had kept him lean, or perhaps that was his metabolism. She noted that, while he was not muscular, he certainly did not seem to be out of shape. The hair on his body was the same dark gold of his brows and lashes as opposed to the corn silk hair on his head, and he had a light dusting of it on his arms, legs, and on the line trailing from his navel.

Hermione was no prude, though she was sure some of her classmates probably thought of her as such. She had read romance novels and seen anatomy books. Her parents were flower children, involved in the hippie movement in college, and had openly discussed safe sex and birth control with her since she was eleven, before she went off to Hogwarts. She knows how the human body works. She had spent an entire year alone in a tent with two boys who certainly did not remain fully clothed around the clock and had spent enough time with them and the rest of the Weasleys before that to know what boys looked like without their trousers. But none of her previous experiences had prepared her for interacting with a half-naked Draco.

She shook herself out of her stupor and checked to make sure no one had noticed her ogling him. Thankfully, Blaise and Ginny were too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else. Draco certainly noticed her staring but did not say anything, and for that she was grateful. If anything, he almost seemed to puff up a bit under her attention, like a peacock displaying for a hen. How odd, Hermione noted to herself, as Draco began his descent down the bank.

The group followed the shallow water a bit through the trees until it emptied into a lake. They swam and splashed water on each other, playing around. Draco and Blaise could stand on the lake's floor, but Ginny had to stand on her tiptoes, and Hermione had to tread water as she was too short to touch.

"What were you ladies discussing before we got here?" Draco asked, bending his knees and sinking down into the cool water.

Hermione gave Ginny a hard look before replying, "Just talking about who will be coming back to Hogwarts. I know Harry and Ron aren't going, but Ginny and I will be. Luna, too."

Ginny nodded her agreement before adding, "I saw Neville in Diagon Alley the other day and he is coming back. Seamus and Dean, too. And the Patils."

Draco added, "Well Blaise and I will be there. Theo, too, and Pansy. Maybe Daph. That's probably it from Slytherin."

"A lot of the other Slytherins' parents moved them abroad. It is just too difficult to get a fair shake at home with all the darkness we were associated with." Blaise explained, wrapping his arm around Ginny's shoulders.

Hermione thought back to her own letter, asking her back to Hogwarts with the shiny, little badge inside declaring her Head Girl. "I wonder who will be the other Head Student with me?" she thought aloud, still stuck a bit in her own musings.

Blaise began to chuckle and Draco shot him a glare. Blaise did not seem deterred by his friend's actions, however, and told the girls, "Draco Malfoy, of course!"

Draco launched himself across the water at his friend, Ginny shrieking as Draco landed on top of her boyfriend, and the two began rolling around in a playful wrestle.

"Draco, let him go and explain what he's talking about!" Ginny demanded, and when he ignored her she yelled, "Oi! Ferret! Quit drowning Blaise!"

Draco let go of Blaise and swam back to where he was before with Hermione. He sighed and pushed his hand through his wet hair, making it stick up on end. Hermione giggled at that, and he brushed it down and gave her a small smile, finding that he liked being able to make her laugh, even at his own expense.

"McGonagall asked me to be Head Boy. My grades are second only to Granger's and I wasn't a half bad prefect, so she said I would have been an obvious choice before the war. She said she wanted to show the rest of the school just where she stood on house unity in these difficult post-Voldemort days. I guess she figured putting a reformed former Death Eater in the highest post in the school, alongside a muggleborn war heroine, would be a way to make a bold statement, don't you think?" He chuckled darkly, clearly indicating that he thought McGonagall was wrong and this would be a disaster.

"I agree with her," Hermione stated decisively with a small smirk. At the incredulous looks of her friends she began, "Well…" before being cut off by Ginny.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Hermione! It's hard to pay attention to anything you are saying with you bobbing up and down like that."

"I can't help it! I'm not tall enough to touch the bottom!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated. She was not a bad swimmer, but she was beginning to get a bit tired of constantly kicking to stay afloat- no one else had to try this hard.

"Be a dear and grab her, Draco, would you?" Ginny said with an evil grin. Both Draco and Hermione paled, but she let him take her in his arms as he held her above water. "Now then," Ginny continued, smirking at the obvious discomfort of the two across from her, "what were you saying, Hermione?"

Hermione had to shake her thoughts, as she was suddenly consumed with the marvelous feeling of being wrapped in Draco's strong arms and pressed against his solid chest. She knew that he was trying to be a gentleman and not touch her inappropriately, but that did not stop her from settling into him just a bit. He was sturdy, and she was enjoying not paddling to keep her head above water. She was enjoying it almost as much as she was enjoying the feel of his smooth skin against hers.

"I was just saying," Hermione continued, after shaking herself from thoughts of the well-built blonde she was currently pressed up against, "that I think McGonagall is right. Putting Draco and me as Head Students sends a message to everyone else, especially if people see us getting along. No one is more dissimilar than the two of us so our camaraderie says a lot about post-war relations. And she is right; before the war, Draco would have been the obvious choice for Head Boy. The side you fought on should not have anything to do with your academic accomplishments."

Draco could not focus. Damn Red and her stupid meddling he thought, repeatedly cursing the redhead and willing his body to behave. It was unbelievably difficult to be this close to Hermione and have her warm body pressed against his without being able to do anything about it. There was nothing especially intimate about the way he was holding her, but apparently his hormones did not know that. No, his traitorous hormones kept sending messages to his brain about her silken skin, soft curves, and proximity to him while she was wearing nothing but a muggle bathing suit. This was, by some accounts, second base, and he hadn't even snogged her yet! He knew she was talking, likely about something she felt strong about if her passionate tone was anything to go by, but it was not until he heard his name that he paid attention. Draco would have been the obvious choice for Head Boy. The side you fought on should not have anything to do with your academic accomplishments, he heard her say, and hopeful warmth flooded his stomach. She doesn't think I am irredeemable! She isn't upset she has to share the job with me! He had been completely convinced she would protest the idea and demand to be paired with someone more worthwhile, like Longbottom or MacMillan, or one of her other D.A. friends.

"Awfully quiet, aren't you, Draco?"

Blaise's snarky question pulled him out of his daze. He narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Just thinking, mate."

"Oh?" asked the red headed devil he severely regretted confiding in, faking an air of innocence. "About what?"

"I'm just glad Granger shares McGonagall's optimism, that's all. I didn't fancy the idea of sharing a common room and rounds with someone who was pissed that they had to be near me."

Hermione turned a bit in his arms, clearly trying to make eye contact with him, though all she was really doing was causing him physical torment as she wriggled her wet self against him. When she finally got herself situated (seconds later, though to Draco it felt like hours), she gave him a small smile. "I meant what I said. You earned the spot. You'll be a great Head Boy."

He smiled at her, one of his rare, full-face, electric-white smiles, and was about to respond when Blaise chimed in. "Whoa whoa whoa! You guys get your own common room? You didn't tell me that!"

"So?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Parties, mate! We can throw the best parties! We will put our Slytherin gatherings to shame!"

Hermione looked on disapprovingly and was about to let Blaise know exactly how many parties he would be hosting in her common room when Draco replied, "We really did throw the best bashes, especially after quidditch wins."

Blaise sighed, clearly in nostalgic reverie at their past debauchery. "Booze, music, pretty birds everywhere. Of course, you never made time for pretty birds, which meant more for me…" he started, but at Ginny's glare he amended, "though none of those slags compare to you, love, of course."

Ginny made a hmpf noise and rolled her eyes at him, saying, "You can have all the birds you want, Zabini, I do not care. But do not be mad when you find me in the lap of another bloke."

He gave her a charming smile. "You're the only girl I've got eyes for now, you know that. Why would I want another bird when I have a lioness?"

"As adorable as this whole display is," Hermione started in her most condescending tone, "no one will be throwing any parties in our common room."

Ginny and Blaise both stopped their squabbling to give Hermione wide-eyed, disbelieving stares. She could feel Draco chuckling behind her, but he hadn't contradicted her yet so she took that as a good sign. Finally, Ginny spoke up. "But Hermione, you always came to parties in the Gryffindor common room! Why are you being no fun about this?"

"I can't very well stop you from having them in your common rooms, but it would be a poor example if Draco and I started throwing parties. I know what ridiculous depravity goes on between Gryffindors, and I can't even imagine what the Slytherins get up to. What would happen if we combined the two? It would be an utter disaster that is highly improper for the Heads to be involved in."

Ginny and Blaise tried to argue with Hermione but she was firm in her resolve, until finally Draco put an end to the bickering and sided with Hermione. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, and Blaise looked a little betrayed, but he knew they would both be over it soon enough. Draco knew the three of them could eventually convince Hermione to go easier on patrols on nights when Gryffindors and Slytherins would be having parties in their own common rooms. Besides, he thought, I quite like the idea of having Hermione all to myself in our rooms.

The group of four talked and splashed about for hours in the water until the sun began to set and the air outside was cooler. Draco suggested they get out, as they were all extremely pruned and Ginny agreed, but suggested they find something else to do as she did not quite feel like going home just yet.

"We could see another film?" Hermione suggested, knowing how much the three had liked that before. "We don't have to go to the cinema, we can just watch on a telly?"

Ginny smiled at her. "While I love the idea, we don't have a way to make the telly work, Hermione. Dad just got it to take it apart."

Hermione thought for a moment before saying, in a hesitant voice, "We could go to my parents house? I haven't been since I left for my trip, so it's probably a bit dusty, but otherwise should be fine. We have a working telly and Mum's whole collection of films which is pretty extensive. We can even stop somewhere and grab some snacks."

Ginny knew that her friend was trying to be blase about the whole thing, but it wasn't really casual at all. "Hermione," she said in her softest voice, "are you sure you'll be okay with that? We can find something else to do. We don't have to go there, if you're not ready."

Hermione gave Ginny a small smile and grabbed her hand. "Thanks, Gin. But really, this is fine. Honestly, it's probably a good thing. I mean, I've been paying to keep the house functioning because I can't bear to part with it, yet. At least this way I'll be using it. Yes," she said decisively, nodding at Ginny and the boys, smiling wider now, "yes, let's do it."

They quickly found themselves back to the creek near their discarded clothing. They all climbed out of the water, and Draco saw Hermione for the first time in her suit, unencumbered by the water that was previously blocking his view. Her red bikini left very little to the imagination (though Draco's imagination would have been running wild anyway after having her pressed against him for so long in the water). He did not think he had ever found anything so enticing as the sway of her glorious behind… that is, until she turned around and got a view of her wonderful chest.

Draco was, admittedly, known throughout Slytherin as a total prude. It was not that he was not interested in sex, he just had high standards. Draco knew that the pureblood girls interested in him certainly found him attractive, but were mostly interested in his name and the money that came with it. One "botched" contraceptive charm and Draco would be yoked to some empty-headed bint forever through their child (and the marriage his parents would ensure followed). Furthermore, his father, despite his innumerable flaws, had always impressed upon his son the importance of being a gentleman. Draco had watched Lucius dote on his wife with a level of affection that his son had not seen him bestow on anyone or anything else. Draco had romantic notions about falling in love and sharing that kind of intimacy with a girl he actually cared for. He knew it was poncy and probably too traditional, but he did not care- he was not in any hurry to let some slag slobber all over him. Needless to say, when Draco saw the low, evening sun glinting off Hermione's lithe, wet body, all of a sudden he knew why his friends were so oversexed- tits and girl-arse were glorious, and Hermione's were the best he had ever seen.

Hermione noticed Draco staring at her, and while at first it made her feel a little self-conscious, she quickly found a sort of feminine pride that he seemed to be so transfixed with her. She made a show of bending over as she dried off her legs, then threw him a look over her shoulder to let him know that she was aware he was ogling her. He blushed, but did not look away, instead raising his eyebrows in an appraising look, followed by a wink. She smiled at him as she continued to towel off her body, taking her time and appreciating that Draco's eyes never left her.

After drying off and using a drying charm on their wet swim clothing, they redressed and joined hands so Hermione could apparate them to her parents home in Hampstead. She gave them a quick tour of the ground floor, then led them outside and down the street to a corner shop where they purchased popcorn and cookie dough and a frozen pizza before heading back. She told everyone to make themselves comfortable in the sitting room before heading into the kitchen.

"Don't think I didn't see you and Draco, Hermione," Ginny said in a low voice, startling Hermione who did not know she had been followed.

"Gods, Gin! You scared me! And anyway, I have no idea what you're talking about," she responded in her best indignant voice, knowing full well what her friend was referring to.

"Don't play coy with me, missy," Ginny started, smiling in a conspiratorial way, "I saw you two! You were practically eye fucking when we got out of the water!"

"Ginny!" Hermione squealed, silently begging her friend with her tone to keep it down so the Slytherin boys did not hear. "We were not eye fucking."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. He was eye-fucking you and you were loving it, and teasing him." Hermione blushed and made to refute Ginny's claims, but the younger girl interrupted. "Oh Hermione, don't deny it, it's okay! Anyone with half a brain would flirt with Draco. He is gorgeous, and very clearly interested in you."

Hermione snorted. "He certainly is not. I won't deny that he was leering at me earlier, but what teenage boy doesn't stare at a half-naked girl? That doesn't mean he is interested."

Ginny shook her head, impressed with Hermione's ability to delude herself. "You are an idiot. You should have seen the look on his face in the water today. Pain, Hermione. He looked like he was in pain restraining himself while being so close to you. And it's not even just about when you're half dressed! The man talked about books with you for hours the other day, Hermione! Hours! He's clearly smitten." Hermione just shook her head, putting the pizza in the now hot oven.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the boys were having an eerily similar conversation.

"I was not eye-fucking her! Don't be so crass." Draco said, punching Blaise in the arm.

Blaise just gave Draco a knowing smirk, settling back into his seat. "Yes, you were, mate. And she liked it. She was egging you on. You are both incredibly transparent."

Draco sighed. "I'm just trying to get to know her, mate. I'm trying to be a gentleman. Then she comes along in that little, red thing, shaking her arse and looking good enough to… well, nevermind. The point is, I don't want her to feel like I'm perving on her. I want her to like me. I want to… maybe see if I can get her to… I don't know, see me in a different way, I guess. No matter how cute she thinks I am, she'll never give me the time of day if I'm still that bastard she grew up with. She's not that shallow."

Blaise smiled. "You're sunk, mate. Completely smitten."

Ginny entered the sitting room and sat beside Blaise, tucking herself into his side. "Don't worry," she said with a smile, "she's being an idiot, too."

Draco sat up in interest. "What do you mean?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You two are completely hopeless. She obviously thinks you are completely shaggable. You want her to have your annoying, little ferret babies, and yet she is pretending that she actually believes you're not interested in her, as if it weren't completely obvious."

Draco sank into the cushions and sighed. "I don't want her to think I'm 'shaggable'. Well, no, actually I do. But I also want her to think that I'm dateable. I'm not looking for a quick lay… and she doesn't strike me as the kind of girl that would want that, anyway."

Ginny laughed. "No, of course you don't just want her to shag you. I know that. See aforementioned comment about ferret babies. But you're missing the most important part. She doesn't even think you could be interested. Or at least, that's what she's telling herself. I say you do something that removes all doubt," she suggested, with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Draco groaned. "Like what?"

It was Blaise's turn to chastise his friend. "Salazar's rod, mate, are you intentionally being thick? Slytherins are good at the art of subtlety and you are the king. Flirt with her! You flirt with girls all the time with no intention of following through. Same principle here, but now it actually matters for more than arithmancy notes. I know you are capable of being charming."

Draco got up to go to the loo and when he came back, Hermione had joined the other two.

"Okay," she said, opening a large cabinet, "we have lots of options here. Maybe let's try a different genre? We did action last time. Hmm…" She perused through her options for a while before letting out an excited squeal. "I know! Mum rented this one once and we watched it together. I was way too young to have seen it at the time, but honestly I don't think I really understood most of what was happening… then I rediscovered it a couple summers ago and instantly remembered why I loved it so much. It has always been one of my favorites." She held up a worn copy of The Breakfast Club. "Would this be okay?"

The other three shrugged, so Hermione moved to pop it in the VHS player. She sat down on the floor and doled out pizza while the previews played, and by the time the film was set to start most of the pizza was gone. Blaise and Ginny were curled up together on one couch and Draco sat on the other with his hands in his lap. Hermione moved off the floor to sit in the lone armchair. A few minutes in, she remembered she had put cookies in the oven and paused the film to go take them out. When she came back, she found Draco throwing himself on top of Blaise and Ginny.

"What is going on?" she asked in mock exasperation, laughing at their antics.

"Draco is upset because Blaise said he could'nt cuddle with us!" Ginny exclaimed, giggling uncontrollably.

"Get off, mate! I do not share!" Blaise joked, pushing Draco on to the floor.

He pouted there for a second while the other three laughed.

"That is quite all right," he said, smiling widely and leaping to his feet, "Granger will cuddle with me, won't you, Granger?"

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Erm, well… uh… yes?" She squeaked out, as he grabbed her arm and hauled her back over to the couch he was occupying earlier. He settled into the couch, sprawling down its length, then pulled her on top of him. She fell, gracelessly, into his lap before settling into his embrace. She grabbed the remote and pushed play, and the film started again.

As Judd Nelson threw his fist in the air and the credits began to roll, Hermione got up reluctantly- she had been quite comfortable in Draco's lap.

"What time is it?" Blaise asked, as Ginny got up from the couch and stretched out her long legs.

"Only," Draco answered, checking the watch on his wrist, "half eight."

"We could still do another one if you guys are up for it?" Hermione offered, walking back to the cabinet. They all murmured their agreement and Hermione turned back to the cabinet to pick another. Hmm… perhaps it's time I expose Ginny to the wonders of 'chick flicks.' "I'm really sorry about this boys," she said with a smile that indicated she was actually not sorry at all, "but this is mostly for Gin and me. Though you might appreciate it, too, Draco, if you have read the book."

"I'll watch whatever you want if you will come back over here and keep me warm," Draco said with a wink, patting the couch in front of him.

"I've never known you to be so interested in cuddling, Draco," Blaise started, smirking when Draco shot him a death glare.

Blushing, Hermione interjected, "It's just because he's cold. I'm sorry, my parents are a bit atypical and always kept the house rather cold. I'm being a terrible host. Here," she said, pulling blankets out of a basket near the wall and tossing one to Ginny and one to Draco. She put the film- Sense and Sensibility- in the player and went to go sit back in her chair when Draco tutted at her and lifted the blanket from his lap, indicating she should join him under it. She sat back down on the couch and he grabbed her, pulling her into him and wrapping his arms around her.

Hermione had never felt so content. Draco's strong arms were around her and he was pressed up along the length of her completely so that she was surrounded by his wonderful scent. Even after a day sweating in the hot sun and swimming in a lake, he smelled like heaven. His thumbs were softly rubbing back and forth on her arms and his nose was buried her hair- she had the distinct impression he might be smelling her, too.

"That Colonel Brandon, bloke… he reminds me a bit of Snape," Draco remarked. Hermione nodded in agreement, and looked to see that Blaise and Ginny were engaged in... other activities, and not paying the least bit of attention to Hermione and Draco, or the film. It seemed Draco followed Hermione's line of sight and chuckled softly when he realized that their friends were not paying any attention. He couldn't be fussed- his arms were full of the softest, sweetest smelling person he had ever come across, and he was perfectly content to watch whatever the hell she wanted so long as she would continue to let him hold her. I wonder if I can get away with just a bit more, he asked himself, running the tip of his nose down Hermione's neck. She shuddered, and then moved her head to the side, perhaps subconsciously, to give him better access.

Hermione smiled. On the telly, Elinor was being romanced by Edward, and on the couch, Draco pulled her to him tighter and ran his nose lightly down her neck. She could feel his breath there and tilted her head, curious as to what else he might do if he had more room. She felt him laying light, butterfly kisses up her neck and to the hollow behind her ear and sighed. This is it, she said to herself, quite resolutely, this is how I die. What a way to go.

Draco was thoroughly pleased that Hermione had not stopped him from dropping a line of kisses up her neck and on that sensitive spot behind her ear, but he felt it best not to push his luck. This is a lady of class, Draco. We are trying to woo her. You go and snog her before she is ready and she will never let you near her again. He found that he was quite content to nuzzle her sweet-smelling neck and burrow into her softness. Before long, everything went fuzzy as he slowly fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Ch. 6- On Getting in Trouble

Hermione awoke to the loud sound of a bin wagon emptying the neighbor’s wheelie bins. She was immediately aware that a very warm, very male body was wrapped around her, and she nestled back into the comfortable warmth and cozy smell. Her slight movements caused the body wrapped around her to shift a bit, and Draco unconsciously pulled her closer to him and burrowed his face into her curls, letting out a satisfied hum. The noise made Hermione feel oddly contented, and as she began to examine why that was, reality struck her-- they had fallen asleep at her parent’s house.

She shot off the couch and out of Draco’s arms quickly, leading to her loudly toppling to the ground. The noise woke her three companions who grumbled at the intrusion.

“Get up! Get up! We fell asleep!” she explained frantically, searching the room for her wand. Ginny was the next to shoot up, and the speed with which she moved impressed upon Hermione just how athletic her friend really was. She shook both boys awake while Hermione quickly collected their dirty dishes and threw them in the sink to be dealt with at a later time.

When she came back to the sitting room, the boys had already gone, and Ginny had Hermione’s wand in her outstretched hand. Hermione looked at her redheaded friend, whose rumpled hair and clothes were a clear indicator that she had just been sleeping. “We’re so dead,” she said, shaking her head and grabbing Hermione’s hand.

The two girls apparated to the front of the Burrow. They made their best attempt at slinking up the stairs back to their room, but Mrs. Weasley was waiting for them at the kitchen table.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley! Five o’clock in the morning! What in the name of Godric Gryffindor do you think you’re doing? Staying out all night and scaring me half to death! Gone without an idea as to where you were! Merlin forbid anything should have happened to you! And Hermione, I am ashamed in you, too! You’re usually so responsible! Morgana help me, when I decide what to do with you.” Mrs. Weasley continued to rage at the two of them for what seemed like hours. Hermione supposed Mrs. Weasley had every right to be furious with them-- since the end of the war, everyone was on edge. She tried to consider how Molly must have felt when the girls did not come home.

Molly kept on ranting, having caught her stride, but was shocked into silence when Hermione went over and hugged the older woman, mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione started, “I can’t even begin to imagine how scared and worried you must have been when we didn’t come home. We didn’t mean to… we were at my parent’s house, and we fell asleep. I’m so, so sorry…”

Mrs. Weasley hugged the younger girl a bit longer. It seemed that she needed a bit of motherly affection. “Why don’t you both go up to your room? It’s early- the boys aren’t awake yet. Get going, now.” she urged, shooing them along and collapsing into a nearby chair.

“That was close!” Ginny exclaimed, collapsing on her bed. “Good thinking, getting all weepy. I bet Mum feels so bad for you she won’t say anything else to us.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend. “I didn’t say it to get out of trouble, Gin.” she explained, changing into a clean blouse. “I meant it. Think about how she must have felt! Family members not coming home and rogue Death Eaters still out on the loose. She was probably terribly anxious. You remember your Mum carrying around that clock during the war? I couldn’t bear the idea that we had worried her…”

Ginny nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I suppose she probably was pretty upset. But I’m still not going to complain about staying out all night with Blaise and not getting yelled at.” At Hermione’s exasperated look she exclaimed, “I’m of age, Hermione! She really doesn’t have any right to reprimand me at all.” Ginny threw her long hair over her shoulder, then turned back to her friend with a smile. “You almost had me distracted enough to forget that you woke up with Draco this morning. Don’t think we aren’t going to talk about this…”

“Oh honestly,” Hermione said, settling back on her bed against her pillow and crossing her arms over her chest, “there’s nothing to talk about!”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Sure there is. Draco fancies you. Surely even you can’t keep pretending like you don’t know that.”

Hermione snorted. “He doesn’t like me, Gin.”

The redhead leapt off her bed to sit next to the brunette. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting as thick as Ron. Draco practically begged you to cuddle with him last night. You should have seen the dopey look he had on his face the whole time,” Ginny explained in an exasperated tone, hands on her hips and a look of consternation on her pretty face.

“Oh, you could see him, could you? I figured Blaise’s head would have obstructed your view, what with you being connected by the lips and all,” Hermione replied, snottily.

“Come off it, ‘Mione. We all see how he looks at you. Last night, you made him suffer through that god awful girly film and he didn’t make a peep. Of course, you could have made him listen to Percy lecture about exported butterbeer density regulation and he would have done it if it meant he got to keep you close.”

“Gin…” Hermione started, shaking her head back and forth, “He’s a flirt. I just happened to be the only unattached girl around. It doesn’t have anything to do with me specifically. He wanted someone he could pay attention to for a bit so he could have his ego stroked when I gave into his ministrations.”

“Wait! Ministrations? What did he do? You didn’t mention that he’d tried anything!” Ginny exclaimed, sitting up on her knees excitedly and invading Hermione’s precious personal space.

“I… may have let him kiss my neck. A little,” she explained sheepishly, looking away from her friend and fiddling with the bent corner of a Witch Weekly sitting on Ginny’s nightstand. Ginny squealed in delight, but Hermione cut her off with a look. “It was nothing, Gin. To him, anyway. Again, I was just a stroke to his over-inflated ego. I’m sure he’s excited to know that he’s so handsome even a girl who loathed him for the better part of seven years would welcome his advances.”

Ginny grabbed Hermione’s pillow and hit her in the head with it. “You’re an idiot. He was flirting with you because he fancies you. Pay just a bit of attention and you’ll see that.”

Hermione took the pillow from Ginny, and threw it after her redheaded friend as she ran out the door and down the stairs. She’s crazy, Hermione thought, getting up to look out the window. One night hardly means anything- why would Draco be interested in me? He’s gorgeous and smart and rich, and I’m me. He doesn’t care that the rest of the world calls me a war heroine; to him I’m Granger, the swotty nobody with beaver teeth. No, Draco isn’t interested in me. And even if he were… am I interested in him? Am I even ready to be interested in anyone?

At Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, the boys were stretched out in chairs in Draco’s study. Draco was a bit ruffled from their quick departure, but altogether rather pleased with himself. Blaise rolled his eyes at his friend’s smug smile.

“What are you so bloody proud about?” he grumbled, a bit cranky. He had woken up with an uncomfortable kink in his neck and he was sure the Weasley matriarch would hate him now.

“I woke up with my arms full of a rather fetching witch- why shouldn’t I be smug?” Draco responded, letting his smirk turn into a full blown smile thinking about the state of Hermione’s unruly curls this morning and her soft, little body curled perfectly against his.

“You’re hopeless, mate. You’re never this chipper in the mornings. It’s one of my favorite things about you. Smitten Draco is bloody annoying,” Blaise snapped.

Draco turned and gave his friend a calculating look. “What’s wrong with you, then? I would’ve thought a night wrapped around the She-Weasel would have you absolutely corking,” he drawled.

Blaise shot his friend a terrifying glare. “Do you know how hard I worked to get in Mrs. Weasley’s good graces? I put in so much time! And now she’s going to hate me.”

Draco barked out a laugh and said to his friend, “I doubt the girls even told her we were there. She wouldn’t have any reason to assume you had anything to do with their tardiness. Granger’s smarter than that. Besides, even if Mrs. Weasley does decide she hates you… something tells me that Red wouldn’t see that as a deterrent.”

“Right-o, mate,” the Italian replied with a small smile, settling into his chair more comfortably. “Now then, let’s hear about you and Granger, hmm? Tell Ol’ Blaisey all about it.”

“Bugger off, wanker,” Draco replied, folding his arms and looking away from his friend who was making a disgusting display of exaggerated ‘goo goo eyes’ that Draco was sure were supposed to mock him. The truth was, Hermione’s proximity the previous evening had given him hope he didn’t know he knew how to feel.

“I’m only messing with you, mate,” Blaise replied with a smile, throwing an arm out to lightly swat Draco’s upper arm with the back of his hand.

“It was just… nice. You know?” Draco started, before catching himself smiling like an idiot and continuing. “Well, you must know- you woke up wrapped around a redhead. But I was just gobsmacked she let me be that close to her. She didn’t pull away from me all night. If anything, she seemed to like it when I held her. And… she let me kiss her,” he said quietly, a smile crossing his face at the memory.

“Whoa whoa whoa! You buried the lead, you prat! You kissed her?” Blaise exclaimed, getting up from his chair to stand facing Draco.

Draco shook his head. “Just her neck. But she sort of moved her head a bit, you know? Giving me more room.”

“It sounds like she was a willing participant. She probably would have let you kiss her,” Blaise explained incredulously.

“And what? Have our first kiss be with you two in the room when I’ve all but coerced her into it? No, I don’t want it to be like that. I’m going to take my time and prove to her I can be the kind of person she deserves before I try for anything… if I try for anything.” Draco couldn’t bring himself to think that Hermione might actually be interested in him. Sure, she thinks I’m fit, that much is obvious, but outside of that? It’s likely going to take a while before I’m not ‘Malfoy’ in her eyes. Still, he couldn’t deny to himself that she had let him get away with more than he had anticipated last night, and maybe all of Red’s reassurances weren’t completely false. After the summer he’d had, fighting with his father and worrying about his mother, he could use something that made him feel optimistic.

Blaise smirked and rolled his eyes. “Ponce,” he said, sitting back down beside his best friend.

That afternoon found Hermione heading back to her parent’s house to clean up the mess from the night before. Ginny was at work and the boys were at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes again, which meant that she was at the Burrow all alone and didn’t want to waste that precious alone time that was so hard to come by since she’d returned. She explained where she was going to Mrs. Weasley (determined not to repeat their mistake from the previous night) before apparating into her parent’s Hampstead home.

Hermione had only been at her house a few times since she had received the news her parents were dead. She still was not entirely sure what she was going to do with it- logically, it made the most sense to sell the house as she clearly was not using it. Sentimentally, however, she could not bear to part with the last piece of her parents she had left. She pushed open their bedroom door and sat down on the bed which had shown the evidence of being well loved before she sent her parents away, and now was covered with a thin layer of dust. She had several distinct childhood memories of running into this bedroom when storms woke her up and nestling herself between her parents for safety. Her father would pull her into his side and her mother would scratch her head. Then she would wake up warm and happy, sandwiched between the two people that meant the most to her.

She did not have tears to cry- it was not that kind of anguished sadness that plagued her but more or less an ever-present dull ache in her chest. The light from the evening sun was pouring in from the window, and caught the glass of a silver picture frame on her mother’s bedside table, creating a glare on the wall opposite it. She pulled the picture to her, caressing it lovingly—it was her parents on their wedding day. She had inherited her mother’s round, brown eyes and heart-shaped face, and her father’s unruly brunette curls and full lips. She studied the happy smiles on their faces, as they gazed at each other, so in love. Despite the fact that the picture had been taken 20 years before, her parents did not look that different from the last time she had seen them on the day she obliviated them.

She rolled to her father’s side of the bed, and reached for the picture on his bedside table, as well. Her parents were hardly older than they had been in their wedding photo, but now a curly haired baby was laughing between them. The picture had been taken at Hermione’s first birthday party- she had a colorful, too big party hat on her tiny head, and frosting all over her chubby face. She took a moment to memorize the affectionate looks on her parents’ faces, and the pure delight on the face of her younger self. She wondered if the little family had any idea, then, how much their lives would change in a few short years when they found out that the youngest member of their family had special abilities that would take her away from her parents and into a world she couldn’t have ever imagined.

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, remembering the two people she missed more than anything in the world. She thought back to the advice that her mother always gave her when she was feeling down. “Remember, my love, behind the clouds is always sun,” Helen would say, with a warm smile and her arms open for a hug. Hermione knew that she could not continue to wallow. Her parents certainly would not have thanked her for that-- they were fighters, and so was she.

Getting up from the bed, she made her way to the ground floor to clean the mess that remained from the previous night. She flicked her wand at the table, the sofas, and the loose blankets, and watched as the sitting room began to right itself again. Then she moved into the kitchen and charmed the dishes to wash and dry themselves, then directing them into the cabinets. Once she was satisfied that the house was back to normal, she went back up the stairs to her parents’ bedroom and grabbed the photo off of her mother’s table. She took one more sweeping glance around the room, wistfully taking in her mother’s nicest pearls still sitting on the dresser beside her father’s beard comb, the rocking chair in the corner where Helen would read, and Richard’s tie hanging over the wardrobe door, before steeling herself and apparating back to the Burrow.

Chapter Text

Ch. 7- On Lifelong Friends & the Stars

“Ouch! Harry, watch it!” Ron yelled as a stinging hex nicked his left shoulder.

“You’ve got to be prepared, mate. The other aurors aren’t going to take it easy on us, and Death Eaters certainly aren’t going to make our lives easy.”

Hermione sat in the Burrow’s backyard, watching her two best friend’s duel each other. They had been going at it for three hours now with Hermione keeping track of wins and losses. Thus far, Harry had bested Ron 13 times, Ron had won 10, and two rounds were considered draws.

“All right,” she called, getting their attention, “you both need a break. Come sit over here with me for a moment and then you can go back at it for another round. Maybe Ginny will be home from work soon and we can do a bit of two on two!”

The boys rolled their eyes but came to rest beside her nonetheless. Ron laid down on his back at Hermione’s side while Harry laid his head in Hermione’s lap while she combed her fingers through his crazy, black hair. She smiled down at them. Her boys. Her obnoxious best friends who had been through everything with her. They had fought trolls and Death Eaters together, rode hippogriffs and dragons together, and had literally faced death holding each other’s hand. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to tell them everything they meant to her.

“Why are you smiling at us so creepily?” Ron asked, breaking through her thoughts.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you both. I got pretty lucky that day you saved me from that troll, didn’t I?” she replied, ruffling Ron’s hair with one hand and Harry’s with the other.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re getting emotional in your old age.”

She barked out a laugh and pushed him lightly off her lap so she could lie down in between them. “I was just saying,” she explained, laying on her back, “that it’s always been the three of us. We don’t do adventures without each other. You guys are going off and becoming aurors and I’m going back to Hogwarts… that’s awfully separate, isn’t it?”

“You went on a grand adventure without us this summer.” Ron replied, smiling at her eye roll. “It’ll hardly be separate. We’ll come see you on weekends in Hogsmeade. Mum was talking to McGonagall and the eighth year students are going to have all sorts of special privileges this year because you’re all above legal age. We’ll be able to see you all the time on weekends.”

“You act like auror training isn’t going to keep you incredibly busy, Ronald,” she explained, reproachfully. “And besides,” she continued, “I’ll have homework on weekends.”

Both boys chuckled at that, and then Harry explained, “You’ll make time for us, Hermione. We’ll all make time for each other. Making time for your studies has always come easy to you. Think about how much time you’ll have to revise this year without getting drug about on Voldemort-related adventures.” Harry looked at her with a smile on his face, though she could see in his eyes he was troubled—he still felt guilty for dragging Hermione and Ron into trouble throughout school.

Hermione smiled at him, and just as she was about to reply, Ron piped up, “I’m starved. I’m going to go see if Mum will make us something for lunch. Then we can practice more, Harry? Yeah?”

Harry nodded and the two watched their redheaded friend go. Then Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and leaned into Hermione, saying in a low voice, “He’s okay with it, you know.” At Hermione’s confused expression he continued, “With you and Draco.”

Hermione sighed. “There is no ‘Draco and I’. I don’t know why everyone keeps insinuating that.”

Harry’s face lit up with a knowing smile. “We see how he looks at you, Hermione. I know how you are. You’re going to try to put Ron’s feelings in front of your own. Don’t use him as an excuse. Ron doesn’t have any feelings about this particular issue.”

“Sure…,” Hermione replied in a doubtful voice. Ron had yet to find something he didn’t have an opinion on, unless it was related to his schoolwork.

“He told me, Hermione. He doesn’t care. You’re his best friend and he wants you to be happy. He got over the Draco thing a long time ago… I mean, they still bicker, but they don’t hate each other.”

“Nothing is going to happen with Draco, Harry,” Hermione told him with a wry smile.

“Well with someone, then. Whoever. He’s okay with you moving on. He’s… interested in someone, I think.” Harry explained in a cautious tone, gauging Hermione’s expression for any signs that this news might upset her.

Hermione sat up from where she had been laying, with a wide, excited smile across her face. “Really?” Hermione asked. “Who is it?”

“He hasn’t said anything to me, Hermione,” Harry hesitantly told her, rubbing the back of his neck and sitting up as well.

“Well of course not,” she answered, trying her best not to let her tone get too condescending, “you two hardly talk about these things and you won’t let me talk about them with you either.”

“Hey! You were hardly forthcoming about Viktor!” Harry retorted, crossing his arms across his chest.

Hermione laughed. “Well of course not. Ron used to shoot off in jealousy anytime his name came up! If you had asked, I would have told you. Now, who is it Ron’s interested in?”

“Well… he’s been spending a lot of time with Luna,” he explained in a conspiratorial voice, “She comes into the shop a lot, you know? And when she isn’t there, he’s asking about her. And he gets that stupid look on his face when she’s talking… you know the one I’m talking about.”

Hermione smiled at that. Luna was an odd bird but she would certainly keep Ron’s attention, and he would never feel less intelligent around her because no one ever knew what she was talking about. “That makes so much sense,” she told Harry, nodding emphatically, “and I’ve always thought she had a bit of a crush on him, you know?”

That seemed to surprise Harry. “Really?” he asked.

“Well sure,” she confirmed, “Haven’t you ever noticed she has a tendency to laugh at his jokes a bit harder than was warranted? And she’s always staring at him.”

“Doesn’t she sort of stare at everyone?” Harry asked.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Look, don’t say anything to him, okay?” Harry pleaded, taking Hermione’s hand and looking into her eyes.

“You know I wouldn’t do that.” Hermione countered, feeling incredibly happy that, for once, they had secrets like normal teenagers that didn’t involve dark wizards, imprisoned godfathers, or secret potions in bathroom stalls.

“Immobulus!” Hermione cried, and Harry froze in place, falling unceremoniously to the ground. She turned her wand on Ron who was in the process of sending a stinging hex at Ginny. “Impedimenta!” she called, pointing her wand at him, while Ginny threw up her own shield charm.

“I believe that iss ladies four, gents zero,” Ginny said lazily, studying her fingernails with a smirk while Hermione helped both boys to their feet.

“You two shouldn’t be partnered in auror training. You distract each other. Make sure your advisor knows that,” Hermione cautioned.

“One more go!” Ron called, dusting off his trousers and settling into position, but Hermione shook her head.

“I’m bored. Between you two, and then the various combinations of the four of us… We’ve been dueling for hours,” she explained, looking off into the distance as though the horizon would give her an idea of what they should do instead.

Ginny nodded and leapt into the air to hang off of the tree limb above them. “I agree- this isn’t fun for those of us with no intention of chasing after dark wizards.”

“Where are Draco and Blaise?” Harry asked, looking around. “It’s sundown and they haven’t been here yet today. I think that would be the first time in weeks… when did you get together, again?”

Ginny dropped from the tree and shrugged. “I have no clue. It’s all kind of blurred together. Let’s see… Hermione left on May 15th? And Blaise started coming into the shop just a few days later, around the same time we called things off. I think that means that he came to dinner here on June 2nd? So since then?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. So we’ve seen Zabini, or more recently Zabini and the ferret, every day since the beginning of June? Merlin, it’s a wonder I’m not going gray!” he exclaimed, ruffling his own red hair.

Ginny laughed and shoved her brother’s arm. “Don’t talk about them so affectionately, Ronald, or they might think you like them.” She laughed again before continuing, “Draco had to go to visit his parents today. Blaise said he’s always in a right temper afterwards so they were going to stay holed up in Malfoy Manor tonight getting pissed and being huffy.”

Hermione looked up in alarm. “That’s horrible!” she exclaimed.

Everyone else shrugged. “That’s just Slytherins,” Ginny explained, but Hermione shook her head.

“We should go over there. Draco shouldn’t pout. That’s not right. We’re his friends. We should help,” she replied, already moving to head into the house.

“Oi!” Ron called, as the other three ran after the determined brunette. “Hermione! You’re just going to casually waltz back into Malfoy Manor? You think that’s a good idea?”

Hermione stopped in her tracks, and turned around to look into the concerned faces of her friends. Ron was right. She hadn’t stopped to consider that. She had not really processed what had happened to her there, and being back there… well, it might just bring it all back. “You’re right,” she told Ron. “I shouldn’t go back there. But that still doesn’t mean we should do nothing. Ginny, can you get Blaise to come here and bring Draco with him?”

Ginny studied her for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Yeah… I reckon I probably can.”

“Well then. We’ll wait here,” she responded, then headed off to the garden.

The boys gave Ginny confused looks and she just chuckled quietly. “She’s still pretending that this is all just nothing. I don’t know how much longer she’s going to be able lie to herself… usually she’s pretty intelligent.” Ginny paused for a moment to think, then told the boys, “I’m going to go get those two. I’ll be back.” She then turned and moved into the house.

Meanwhile, Hermione was sitting in the garden, scratching Crookshanks’ stomach and pretending that her friends weren’t talking about her in hushed voices ten meters away. He’s my friend. This is what you do for friends. I would do this for Harry or Ron or Neville, she rationalized. And that’s the truth. That’s just what you do for friends. Even friends you’ve only just become close with. It certainly doesn’t matter if those friends are tall and handsome, I would do it for anyone! His attractiveness isn’t the reason for my generosity.

At Malfoy Manor, Ginny was having a very different conversation. “She specifically asked me to bring you to the Burrow, Draco. Hell, she tried to just come straight here, but Ron stopped her. She wants to help. You can’t just not turn up.”

He rolled his eyes and stormed across the room. “I’m staying away for her own good, Red. Mother is fine, but visiting my father always puts me in a foul mood. He’s been grooming me to take over a family business I don’t much care about and waxing on about the antiquated beliefs that landed him there in the first place… I don’t feel like dealing with anyone today. Surely she’s intelligent enough to understand that!”

Blaise intervened, “Draco, mate, don’t yell at Ginny. She’s trying to help. And for that matter, so is Granger.”

The blonde threw himself into a chair and grumbled under his breath. Finally he looked up and said, “I don’t even know why she would want to see me. Why today?”

Ginny threw her hands up in exasperation. “You two are both pathetic and I’ve about had it! She wants to see you, and despite the fact that you’re in a right state, you want to see her, too. Just let her make sure you’re okay, that’s all she wants. Spend a little time there and then you can come back here and rage all you want. Hell, you never know, spending time with her might make you feel better,” Ginny harrumphed, crossing her arms stubbornly and giving him a knowing glance.

Zabini smiled at her and pulled his friend to his feet. “C’mon, mate. Let’s go.”

Hermione was so lost in her own world that she jumped when she heard her friend’s approaching. Harry, Blaise, and Ron were animatedly discussing the broomstick that had just been released by the former owner of the Wimbourne Wasps, and Ginny was dragging Draco along in the back, speaking to him in low tones under her breath. Hermione studied the blonde. Yes, he looked upset and a bit more rumpled than she had ever seen him… but goodness he was still so handsome. She gave him a small smile when he met her gaze, and a second passed before he returned it. She noticed the smile did not reach his eyes.

“And the Thunderbird 6000 is the first broomstick with a tail made up of synthetic fibers. It’s practically weightless!” Ron pointed out, pulling an advertisement from Quality Quidditch Supplies out of his pocket and showing it to Blaise.

“All right, you lot. You know the drill. Too much quidditch talk and Hermione leaves to find a book. Enough of that.” Ginny explained in a mock warning tone to the boys. She noticed that Hermione’s stare had not left Draco, who was attempting to pretend he didn’t realize. Ginny sat down near Hermione and pulled Draco down next to her, sitting him between the two girls.

“Hi,” Hermione said to him with a tentative smile. The other three boys were still comparing pick up speeds and turn precision, and she felt less embarrassed engaging Draco with only Ginny as an audience.

“Well, Granger, you got me here. Whatever do you intend to do with me now?” Draco purred, turning to face her and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione blushed, which only fueled his ego. I don’t much care for people at the moment, but dammit if her blush isn’t the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen.

Trying to convey her genuine concern, without it coming off as being overly interested in a pathetic sort of way, she explained, “I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. I know you’ve had quite the day… I didn’t like the idea of you cooped up with only Blaise for company.”

At that, Blaise turned to them. “Granger, I resent that! I’m fantastic company!”

“You’re right, there. He’s awful company,” Draco explained to Hermione in a secretive voice, “but he’s known me forever so he’s the only person I don’t feel bad subjecting to my… moods, as it were.”

“Please,” Ginny chimed in with a smile, “if we were afraid of your moods, we would have chased you off ages ago.”

Draco looked around the group and smiled. Sure, Hermione was the one that had insisted he be pulled out of his pity party, but the other three were still sitting with him, willing to bear his foul temper. Gryffindor bleeding hearts, he thought to himself with an affectionately incredulous eye roll.

A few hours passed and the group of six was still in the garden. Draco’s unpleasant day had mostly been forgotten, and now he found himself laughing along with the others. He didn’t think he could ever get over how forgiving they all had been. Especially her, he thought, looking at the object of his affection. She was arguing with Blaise and Ron about the newest album the Weird Sisters had put out. In the darkness of the night, he could barely make out the freckles on her tanned skin as she scrunched up her nose in disgust and gesticulated wildly. Draco wasn’t sure what he had possibly done right in a past life to afford him the right to sit next to her, as it certainly was not anything he had done in this crummy lifetime.

“I’m going to go inside,” Harry said, getting up and dusting off his bum with his hands. “We promised George we would come in pretty early tomorrow morning to restock. With the back to school crowd, he’s been selling like mad.”

Ron looked down at the watch on his wrist and nodded. “I had better go in, too,” he agreed, getting up.

Hermione bid goodnight to her friends and laid on her back, looking up at the stars.

“Now is the time when you two go run off and snog,” she heard Draco tell Blaise and Ginny, who had been slowly growing closer and closer as the night went on. “I’ll wait an hour, Blaise. One hour, and then I am leaving without you.” She heard them take off lightning fast, and then they were gone.

Draco laid down beside her. “That one, there,” he pointed up at a bright star above them, “that’s Vega. Vega and those three,” he pointed making a box, “make up Lyra. Then just over there,” he moved his arm a bit again indicating another shape, and Hermione followed his finger with her eyes, “is Hercules. I’m sure you know that story- muggles love mythology. And then over there,” he moved his finger around again, and this constellation she recognized, even if it wasn’t something she could have found on her own, “is Ursa Minor. And nestled between those three, just there,” he made a quick swooping motion, “that’s Draco.” He turned his face to her, and smiled. She returned his smile.

“Tell me about Draco. I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about the constellations. What’s his story?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Draco turned back to the sky and sighed. “Oh, he’s got several. There’s lots of stories about why there’s a dragon in the sky… I’ll spare you the details. Suffice to say, he’s never a hero.”

“Perhaps you should give him a new story, then?” she said, turning towards him.

He gave her a forced smile and said with feigned levity, “That’s easier said than done. I’m trying, Granger. It’s hard... for a dragon. He’s told his whole life he’s a monster, you know? That’s what he was groomed for. It’s hard for him to get people to see him as anything other than a villain.”

“Hermione wasn’t a good guy, either, you know,” she said to him, rolling to her side and propping her head up on her hand.

“Hermione is a wonderful queen who stays moral even after she’s incorrectly accused of cheating… I’ve read Shakespeare, Granger,” he explained with an eye roll, as if she were trying to pull one over on him. At that expression, she laughed.

“Shakespeare’s Hermione, yes. But I’m named after the daughter of Helen of Troy. My mum’s name was Helen, you know… my father used to tell her she was beautiful enough to have launched a thousand ships…”

Draco, sensing her discomfort at talking about her parents, tried to change the direction of their conversation. “Tell me about the eponymous Hermione, then.”

“Oh, she tried to have her husband’s concubine killed. Accused her of being a witch, I think. Then she ran off and married her cousin. All in all, a real gem,” she said with a wink and a small laugh. He laughed, too, and turned on his side to face her, leaning up on his elbow. “Maybe we were both destined to be more than our namesake, Draco.”

“Perhaps,” he replied with a smirk.

“I’ll help you, you know,” she told him, smiling. At his confused look she continued, “I’ll help you rewrite Draco’s story for him. A bit sad, don’t you think? Immortalized in the stars as a villain. I’m sure he didn’t deserve that.” She rolled to her back again, and he continued to look down at her.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he told her in a hushed voice, grinning.

She smiled at him widely. “I hoped you might.”

Chapter Text

Ch. 8- On Telling the Truth

Saturday morning Hermione awoke to the sound of Ginny’s snores. Despite the fact that her friend looked like a Disney princess, she slept with all the grace of an elephant. She got out of bed as silently as she could and padded down the stairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was quite used to the early riser at this point, and had a small breakfast waiting for her. With a knowing smile, she sat a plate of eggs and toast in front of Hermione and moved to make her tea. Harry was at the table not long after, per usual, but this time he had brought Ron, still half-asleep, downstairs with him. Mrs. Weasley put breakfast in front of both of them as well, which seemed to rouse her son the rest of the way.

“George opens at eight o’clock. We told him we’d be there to help him stock at half six,” Harry explained to Hermione, while Ron inhaled a heaping plate of eggs, beans, sausages, and toast.

Hermione nodded and said to him, “I’m going to work on incantations today, I think. And if Draco and Blaise come over, maybe I’ll see if Draco wants to work on scheduling rounds. I’d like to have it done before Tuesday so we can give out patrol schedules on the train.”

Harry and Ron both smiled at how typical Hermione that was. “You’re going to be a great Head Girl, Hermione,” Ron told her. Or at least, that’s what she thought he told her. His mouth was full of breakfast, so it was a bit difficult to tell.

“Thanks, Ron,” she said with a smile, trying to ignore the nagging voice inside her head that wanted to remind him to chew with his mouth closed.

“Have you been out here all afternoon?” Ginny asked Hermione, coming up behind where she was sitting in the orchard. She had her spell book out and was reviewing incantations from sixth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Hermione turned to smile at Ginny, holding her hand up to shade her eyes from the late afternoon sun. “Of course I have. I missed a whole year of classes, Gin! I don’t want to show up and be behind.”

Ginny sat beside Hermione and closed the book that was open in front of her friend. “Hermione, you spent the year doing complicated defensive magic, complex wards, and literally fighting evil. Something tells me Defense is going to be a bit of a breeze for you this year.”

Hermione just shook her head. “I don’t want to be lulled into a false sense of security as far as my grades are concerned. I want to be prepared.”

“Well stop preparing for a bit, yeah? The snakes will be here,” she was interrupted by a loud popping noise, “...any minute now,” she finished with a smile, and stood up to greet Blaise and Draco, who were heading towards the trees.

“Granger, are you really revising already?” Blaise called to her, smiling at the familiar sight.

“Yes, I am. As a matter of fact,” she said, pulling a large piece of parchment out of her bag, “Gin, can you and Blaise occupy yourselves for a bit? I want to work out rounds for the term with you, Draco.”

“Ever the swot,” Draco responded with a grin, but came to sit beside her, nonetheless.

The two sat side by side, arguing about patrols and making assignments. Hermione argued for coed patrol pairs, while Draco felt that inter-house pairs were equally important. Once they had everyone partnered up in a way that met both of their specifications, they had to assign nights in a way that wouldn’t upset anyone too much. They had to work around quidditch practices, gobstones club, frog choir, the dueling club, and everyone’s tutoring schedules, but eventually they managed to make it all work.

“Are you two done yet?” Ginny called from a corner of the paddock, where she and Blaise had been flying and tossing a quaffle back and forth.

“Yeah, we just finished up,” Draco replied, while Hermione copied their notes on to a clean sheet of parchment.

“Oh good,” she said, carrying her broom over to sit next to them.

“Let’s do something fun tonight! Celebrate the end of summer, and all that,” Blaise said with a smile, laying in the grass beside Hermione.

“We could go to a club?” Draco suggested.

Ginny nodded emphatically, and at Hermione’s hesitant look she said, “Oh c’mon, Hermione. Let loose! We’ll have a bit of fun, and then on Tuesday we’ll go back to Hogwarts and you’ll buckle down. I promise not to force you to come to any parties all year.”

“C’mon, Granger,” Blaise said, pulling out his most charming smile, “you know Harry and Ron could use a night to completely cut loose before they go out and put their lives on the line all the time. Let’s have a bit of fun-- a night to act like kids. We all grew up a bit too fast. Let’s be eighteen for a night.”

“It’s not that I’m opposed to fun, you know,” Hermione told them, leaning back on her hands. “I like to have fun, too. I just don’t enjoy the idea of waking up tomorrow with headlines that read, ‘War Heroes Drunk and Out of Control’ or ‘Golden Trio Party with Slytherins’. So if we do this… we go to a muggle club. There’s several in London. We could floo to my parents house to get ready and leave from there, then stay there tonight so your mum doesn’t worry, Gin.”

The other three looked at each other, shocked that Hermione was willing to consider this. Draco spoke up. “I don’t want you to think I’m being a bigot, Granger, but… are muggle clubs, you know, the same as wizarding ones?”

Hermione laughed. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to a wizard club. But there’s this great place I went two Christmases ago with some friends I grew up with. Ministry of Sound. You’ll love it. Music, dancing, drinks… it’s all pretty standard, isn’t it?”

The group found themselves at Hermione’s parents house that evening, getting ready to go out. They had told Mrs. Weasley they planned on watching films all night, and would be staying there. While she gave them a suspicious, knowing look, she explained that, “You’re all of age, I suppose, so you can do as you please. No boy/girl sleeping arrangements, and mind you behave yourselves.”

The boys were all sitting around downstairs, waiting for Hermione and Ginny who were fussing about in Hermione’s bedroom. Ginny had tied the top half of her hair in a high knot on the top of her head. With her dramatic makeup, lucite heels, and tight, silver dress, Hermione thought she could be the sixth Spice Girl. She had somehow talked Hermione into red hot pants and a matching red crop top, exposing her midriff and showing her legs. While the redhead had argued that Hermione should wear the tiny, purple dress she’d found in the back of her wardrobe, Hermione felt more comfortable in something that resembled trousers-- “I’m not opposed to looking sexy, Gin, I just want to feel like myself!”. Ginny had also tried to convince her to wear heels, while she had wanted to wear flats, and so they compromised on a pair of red, platform sandals, which made her legs look miles long but were sturdy enough that she felt like she could walk without twisting her ankle. She put a potion in her hair to tame the frizz, but left her curls springy and wild. Ginny glamoured her eyelashes longer and darker and made her lips the same dark red as her outfit. Examining herself in the mirror, Hermione couldn’t help but be impressed. Certainly not an everyday look, but I do look rather nice.

The girls made their way down the stairs, and Harry, who was the only one facing them, let out a low whistle. “You both look lovely,” he said with a smile, getting up from his seat, and making his way to the door.

“Ginny! Where the hell is the rest of your dress?” Ron bellowed, but Harry warned him to be quiet, lest Hermione start in on them.

Blaise came over to retrieve them from the stairs. “Granger, you look gorgeous,” he said, kissing her hand. “And you,” he turned his girlfriend, taking her in his arms, “are a complete knock out. I’m going to have to fight off all the muggle blokes tonight.” He kissed her and grabbed her hand, laying it over his proffered arm.

Draco couldn’t take his eyes off the vision on the stairs. Hermione was ordinarily quite beautiful, but in a less overt way. Now, however, with all of her best assets on display, and her long hair unruly like she had been up to something naughty, she looked down right delectable. He made his way to the stairs, determined to keep her in his line of sight at all times, if he could help it.

Hermione, for her part, found Draco to be quite attractive, as well. Dressed in tight, black denims, a blue shirt, and a black waistcoat, he looked as if he had just come off a runway. His white-blond hair was tousled perfectly, and his eyes, so beautiful and stormy, had been fixed on her since she had come down the stairs. She began to feel a bit hot under his gaze.

“Granger,” he said, offering her his arm, and bending down to whisper in her ear, “Blaise is wrong. You’re always gorgeous, but that doesn’t even begin to cover how phenomenal you look tonight.”

She looked up at him, wide eyed, before muttering a quick ‘thanks’ and organizing the group departure. Apparating to the alley behind the club was easiest, but as Hermione was the only one who had been there before, she had to take the other’s in two groups. Once everyone was accounted for, they made their way to the queue outside. They had planned to confund the doorman into letting them in, but he took one look at the two beautiful girls, and the reasonably attractive men that accompanied them, and let them pass.

They made their way to the bar, where Hermione ordered them a round of shots and Harry got them a drink each.

“To friends!” Hermione toasted.

“To celebrating!” Blaise countered.

“To getting Hermione out of the house in hot pants!” Ginny exclaimed, and they all laughed and took their shot.

“That was interesting, Granger… what’s that called?” Draco asked, licking his lips.

“It’s called a Training Bra. A bit silly, really, but that’s what my friends got me last time I was here,” she responded.

“And what are these, Potter?” Blaise asked, eyeing the vibrant green concoction in front of him.

“House drink. Just shut up and drink it. It’s sweet and it’ll get you good and legless a hell of a lot faster than firewhiskey.” Harry told Blaise, taking a healthy swallow from his cup.

“Down the hatch, then!” Blaise said, cheerily, quickly downing his drink. “Next round is on me, but first, this music is great. Let’s dance, Gin!” He pulled the redhead out to floor, and they quickly got lost in the sea of people.

“How does Blaise intend on buying the next round?” Hermione asked Draco, with a smile. Harry and Ron had both decided to try their luck on unassuming girls on the dance floor.

“We ran to Gringotts while the two of you got ready,” he explained, speaking directly into her ear so as not to be overheard, “Potter showed us how to convert our galleons.”

“This is for you, Miss, from that bloke over there” said a waitress, sitting a cocktail down in front of Hermione, and gesturing to a man at the bar, who waved in her direction. Hermione blushed and hesitantly waved back.

Draco saw red. “Well that’s terribly rude.” he told Hermione, “We’re sitting here together! How does he know you’re not with me?”

“I suppose that’s what he’s coming over here to find out,” she responded, pointing to where the man was now heading to their table.

He was a stocky guy, but very handsome, with tanned, Mediterranean skin, long, dark hair, and a sexy five o’clock shadow. Draco couldn’t help but want to deck the guy, but knew that he had no claim to Hermione-- it wasn’t right for him to demand she not speak to other men when he was still working on proving to her he had changed.

“Evening,” the stranger said, sidling up to their table and taking the empty seat that Harry had previously been occupying. “I’m Tony. What’s your name, pet?”

“Draco,” he interjected, before Hermione could answer, and she giggled a little at his huffiness.

“Nice to meet you, mate, but I was talking to this lovely creature, here,” Tony said, grabbing Hermione’s hand.

“Hermione,” she responded with a tense, but polite smile.

“Hermione,” he echoed with a leer, “bellissimo! Would you like to dance, Hermione?”

She didn’t especially want to, but felt it would be rude to say that, so she got up and walked away with him, looking over her shoulder at Draco who was staring after them. She wasn’t sure why, but he seemed to be quite upset, crossing his arms across his chest when Tony wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her into him to sway back and forth to the beat of the music.

Draco got up and moved to the bar where she watched him down one, two, three shots of something amber colored, his eyes still locked on her and the man awkwardly grinding against her. Tony leaned down to whisper something in her ear, but she missed it, watching as a tall blonde with enormous breasts walked up to Draco and whispered in his ear. He nodded and seemed to make polite conversation for a bit, before he shook his head and she stormed off angrily. The song ended and Hermione broke away from Tony, hurrying back to where she had left Draco.

The group came and went from the table throughout the night, dancing in shifts and taking turns buying drinks. Hermione watched as Draco turned down dances with two leggy brunettes, a pretty asian girl, and a woman she was convinced had to be part veela.

“Draco,” Ginny admonished, “quit being a grouch. You’ve hardly danced at all! C’mon, come dance with me!”

He laughed. “Well now I can’t turn down a request like that from a beautiful redhead,” he replied, and followed her to the dance floor.

“What a tosser,” Ron commented when they had left the table, “the prettiest chits in the place have all but thrown themselves at him tonight, and yet the only girl he’s danced with is Ginny.”

Hermione laughed and turned to Blaise. “Why hasn’t Draco danced with anyone tonight? Ron’s right, he could have had his pick from anyone here.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “He’s got his eyes on someone very specific, and she’s incredibly thick. Now c’mon, Granger- you haven’t danced with me yet. Let’s go make my girlfriend jealous!” He grabbed her hand, and she laughed as he drug her to the dance floor.

Hermione was impressed; Blaise was a fantastic dancer. He guided her through an intimate, but innocent, little movement, swaying their hips and moving to the beat. She was glad she had decided to come out with her friends-- she was having the time of her life. Only one thing could make the night better… no, Hermione. Don’t even start thinking like that. If he had wanted to dance with you, he would have asked.

“Oi! Hermione! You’re getting a little close to my man, there! Trade ya?” Ginny exclaimed, with a wink and an evil smirk. Before she knew it, Hermione was being thrust into the (beautiful) arms of a very confused Draco Malfoy. Hermione took in his expression.

“It’s okay,” she told him, “you don’t have to dance with me. I’ll just…” Her statement was interrupted, as Draco spun her around and tugged her body in close to his. There was no part of her back that wasn’t touching his front. If she thought Blaise was a good dancer, he was nothing compared to Draco, who seemed to have the music running through him. He ran his palms down her arms, joined their hands, and pulled her arms up around his neck, before running his hands back down her sides slowly, until they got to her hips where he held her firmly in place. She could smell sweat and tequila as he rested his face on her neck and planted a quick kiss there, moving their hips in time with the thumping bass. Hermione hadn’t had that much to drink, but on the dance floor with the flashing lights, the pumping music, and the feel of Draco’s body pressed against her, she certainly felt a bit drunk.

They stayed like that, coupled on the dance floor, for a while-- Hermione wasn’t sure how many songs had passed, but she knew she was perfectly content. Draco had mixed up their positions, leading her through the motions of several steps, but always keeping her close. She felt like doing something a bit reckless, but as she pulled Draco down to her lips, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Tony.

“Hello, beautiful. Me, again,” he told her, before turning to Draco, “mind if I cut in?”

Draco glared at the moron, but hesitantly shook his head and released Hermione’s hips. His hands immediately felt empty with the loss of her warmth.

Hermione let Tony pull her to him, but attempted to keep his wandering hands on her hips-- it seemed that he had imbibed a bit since they had last partnered, and he was feeling a bit bold. When he attempted to stick his hands down the top of her shorts, she ripped herself out of his grasp. She saw Draco and Blaise both moving in to where she was standing, but before they could get involved, she hauled back and punched Tony in the face. Hard.

“You stupid bitch!” he yelled at her, using his hands to catch the blood coming from his nose.

“Keep your hands off me, arsehole!” she responded.

She saw a sneering Blaise make eye contact with Draco, who had a murderous gleam in his eye. She clutched her knuckles and watched as her Italian friend went after a wild Ginny, who had seemingly come from nowhere and had angrily taken off in the direction Tony had fled. She hoped that Blaise caught her… she didn’t want to have to deal with obliviating muggles tonight.

She turned to see Draco was at her side. “Come outside with me?” she asked him, and he nodded, grabbing her hand and pulling her out to the patio while motioning to Harry and Ron to let them know where they were headed.

“You know how to take care of yourself, don’t you?” he commented once they had made their way outside, chuckling under his breath.

“I know I might look a bit unimposing,” she told him, “but I’m no damsel in distress. Wand or no wand, I know how to defend myself.”

He gave her an admiring glance. She was perfect. Fiery and kind-hearted and beautiful and smarter than anyone he knew. She looked up at him, to see he was still smiling at her with that stupid expression.

“What?” she asked, a smile of her own on her face.

“We’re a bit like the princess and the criminal from that film, aren’t we?” he joked.

“Perhaps a bit,” she said, biting her lower lip. It was a nervous habit of hers, he had noticed, and it drove him mental. “Except,” she went on, “that they get together in the end. I’m not exactly your type.” She said it with a sad, little self-deprecating laugh that got under his skin. Does she really still think I care about all that blood status rubbish? After everything that’s happened this last week?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She looked up at him with big eyes. Suddenly he was very close. Too close. She couldn’t think about being clever when he was so close and he smelled so good and he looked so damn attractive, and before she knew it, she was just spilling out the truth. “Oh come off it, Draco. You’re like some… some… bloody Adonis, or something. I’ve seen the girls that throw themselves at you. What would you want with some swotty, little, muggleborn?”

His eyes hardened with resolve. “You know what, Granger? Fuck it. I’m so sick of lying. Do you know how much lying I’ve had to do? Lying to the professors at school because of the Death Eaters, lying to the Death Eaters because I wasn’t ever really one of them, lying to my parents because they still haven’t completely denounced their old ways, though my mother is at least trying… I’m so fucking sick of all the lying. So I’m not gonna lie to you, Granger. You, especially, because you’re an honest person and you don’t deserve anymore lies. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t fancy you. I’m not gonna watch you talk about books and theories and pretend I don’t want to snog you until that perfect, brilliant mind of yours can’t think straight anymore. I’m not gonna let random blokes in muggle clubs hit on you and act like it doesn’t make me completely barmy because it does. I’m done lying, Granger. I fancy you. I’m done acting like a complete tosser and not telling you the truth. And don’t you dare blame the muggle alcohol, because I’ve thought this for a long time… a really long time. I changed my mind about you third year when you broke my nose… and I haven’t had a wank that didn’t involve thoughts of you since the Yule Ball fourth year.” He stopped for a moment and seemed to sober when he realized what he had just told her. “That was gross,” he explained, “and as a gentleman I shouldn’t have told you that… but you know what, sod it all, because it’s the truth.”

Throughout his speech her eyes had progressively grown wider and wider, until they reached an almost comical size. He released a long breath, and sank into a nearby chair. Her expression hadn’t changed, but she turned to him and asked, in a shaky, confused voice, “You fancy me?”

He studied her expression for a minute, and then mutely nodded as she sank into a chair beside him. They sat in silence for a long while, Hermione thinking and Draco growing more and more concerned. Finally he turned to her. “It’s okay, Granger. I get it. I’ve been in your shoes many times before. You don’t have to do the whole ‘letting me down easy’ speech. I hope that this doesn’t ruin what we had going? I still want to earn your friendship.”

She turned to him, studying the desperate look on his face, and laughed. His eyes grew a bit wider as an incredulous look crossed his face. “I didn’t take you for someone with a heartless sense of humor, Granger. Is my humbling at your hands really that amusing?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. Honest Draco, it’s not. This is just all so crazy, you know? You’re… well to be honest, since that’s apparently what we’re doing now, you’re the most attractive man I know. And the idea that you’re interested in me, given our history, and who I am in general, it’s funny, Draco! You’ve got to see this from my perspective.” He continued to stare at her in disbelief, and she reached over and grabbed his hand. “I’m not saying no to… well, whatever it is you were asking for. I’m just saying ‘not right now.’ I don’t know you that well… don’t get me wrong, this new Draco? I like him quite a lot. But I need more than a few conversations about muggle books and a pretty face.”

Draco smiled at her, and it was bigger and happier and more beautiful than anything she’d seen from him before. “You think my face is pretty?” he joked, and she rolled her eyes. He barked out a laugh, then, and continued, “You’d like me to work for it, then? Really make me earn it?”

She laughed and shook her head in exasperation. “You’re being ridiculous,” she told him, but she had a huge smile on her face.

“I’ll give you whatever time you need. I want to show you who I’m capable of being,” he told her, and at her nod he leaned in and said in a furtive tone. “Now that we’ve come to an agreement, it’d be proper that we seal it with a kiss, don’t you think?”

She laughed and shook her head. Looking over her shoulder and back to the building she spied Ginny, peeking out the glass patio door at them, not being even remotely subtle. Hermione rolled her eyes and Ginny wiggle her fingers in a little acknowledgment of ‘hello’, before flicking her hand to shoo Hermione back to her conversation with Draco with a mischievous smirk. Gods, if she only knew what just happened between us.

“C’mon, Romeo… let’s go find the others and head back to my parent’s house.”

Chapter Text

Ch. 9- On Mothering

Sunday morning found Draco, Blaise, and Ron having their first experiences with muggle hangovers.

“For the love of Merlin, Granger! Why don’t you have any damn hangover potion in this house?” Blaise groaned, rifling through her parents bathroom cabinets. He and Ron had spent the night alternating vomiting, while Draco stood under the hot spray of the shower until it had turned ice cold. While Blaise hadn’t given up that he could find some magical means of curing himself, Draco and Ron had planted themselves at the dining room table, drinking the black coffee Hermione had put in front of them and trying to keep the world from spinning.

“Because, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned once or twice before, my parents were muggles. They didn’t have any kind of potion around,” Hermione called from the kitchen, where she was working on making a greasy breakfast of eggs and sausages. After spending the night checking on the boys periodically, she got up early to run out and get rations, knowing that they would need a hearty breakfast. Harry was sitting with Draco and Ron, making sure they didn’t get sick at the table, and Ginny had gone to bring Blaise to sit with the rest of them. Hermione plated the eggs and sausages, threw toast on the side, and grabbed bananas for good measure. Sitting the first plate in front of Ron, she turned to Blaise and told him, “This was a muggle experience, yeah? You’re just going to have to nurse your hangover the muggle way. Greasy food, aspirin, and lots of water. Now,” she continued, putting plates in front of both Slytherins, “eat.”

Harry and Ginny enthusiastically tucked into their food, but the other three were a bit more hesitant. Draco poked his fork into his egg, and turned a shade of puce when the drippy, yellow yolk began to run across his plate. Hermione chuckled, and he looked over at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes she had ever seen. “C’mon, Draco. You need to eat. It’ll make you feel better- do you want to apparate home feeling like this? And don’t give me that look- you did this to yourself. How many tequila shots did you end up taking?”

Ron grumbled. “Hermione, I love you. You know I do. And I certainly appreciate that you made us breakfast. But please. Pleaseeee stop talking. It’s echoing around in my ears and making my head pound harder.”

After getting everyone settled and sobered up, the Gryffindors headed back to the Burrow and the Slytherins went to Malfoy Manor. Harry, Ron, and Ginny got changed to head to their respective work places, promising Mrs. Weasley that they’d be home in time for Sunday dinner.

Hermione had been in the room she shared with Ginny, cleaning out her bag and making a list of the things she would need when they went shopping in Diagon Alley the following day, when she heard a familiar voice conversing with Mrs. Weasley. Running down the stairs, she saw Mrs. Weasley conversing with a head in the fireplace.

“Andromeda!” she exclaimed.

“Hermione, dear, it’s so lovely to see you! I didn’t know that you were back?” Andromeda said, face glowing out of the fireplace.

“Yes, I got back a week ago. I’m heading back to Hogwarts this week with Ginny,” Hermione explained. Then feeling rude, she said, “I’m sorry to have interrupted, but I heard your voice and thought I’d say ‘hello’!”

Mrs. Weasley shook her head and smiled. “Not to worry, dear. I was actually just telling Dromeda that you might be able to help her out. She needs someone to watch Teddy for a few hours and thought she’d ask Harry, but he’s obviously not here. I’d help, of course, but I really do need to be getting ready for dinner tonight.”

Hermione nodded. “I’d love to come help! You know I love Teddy,” she said, kneeling down so she was more eye level with the witch in the fire.

“Very good, dear. Floo over in, say,” Andromeda’s head tipped briefly out of the flame, before resurfacing, “An hour?”

An hour later, Hermione stepped through the flames and into Andromeda’s open arms. The two had bonded at Bill and Fleur’s wedding the previous summer, and had gotten close in the days following the final battle. Those first days after, in assessing the damage, everyone had spent a lot of time together. Hermione and Andromeda had gravitated towards each other after Hermione had found out about her parents-- it seemed that she needed a mother figure for comfort, and Andromeda found that having Hermione around softened the blow of the loss of her own daughter.

“I shouldn’t be gone more than a couple hours- I just need to run a few errands. I feel like I haven’t had time to accomplish anything since Teddy moved in with me. I love him, of course… I just wasn’t planning on becoming a caretaker again at my age.” Andromeda explained to Hermione, taking her over to the cot where a purple-haired infant was sleeping.

“It’ll be fine, ‘Dromeda. I can handle the little guy. Take your time.” Hermione picked up a handbag from the chair in the corner, and handed it to the older witch. Andromeda pulled Hermione in for a hug, rubbing big circles on her back. The two stood there, relaxing in each other’s comforting embrace for a moment.

“Well, all right, then,” Andromeda said, pulling back and holding Hermione at an arm's length to give her a firm nod and a smile. “When I come back we can all head to Sunday dinner together.” Andromeda called over her shoulder, walking into the fireplace and calling “Diagon Alley!”, before disappearing in a whoosh of green flames. Well now, Hermione thought to herself, peering over the edge of Teddy’s cot, how tough can this really be?

An hour and a half later, however, Hermione realized that she was, perhaps, out of her element. Teddy had woken up, roughly 45 minutes after his grandmother had left, and hadn’t stopped screaming since. Hermione had tried feeding him, but he didn’t want his bottle. She had attempted to change him, but he wasn’t dirty, and wrestling him back into a clean nappy was a feat she couldn’t believe anyone accomplished successfully. It seemed that rocking made his cries turn into wails, and bouncing made the wails turn to screams.

“C’mon Teddy,” she begged the baby, who’s chubby, little hands were balled into fists, “please stop crying for Aunt Hermione. I don’t know what to do to make you happy!”

“You should stop bouncing him about like that, for starters. You’re probably making the little bloke sick,” a voice drawled from behind her, and Hermione whipped around to see Draco stepping out of the fireplace.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, shifting a screaming Teddy to her other arm with a bit of difficulty.

“I’ll explain after we get him to stop making such a fuss. Now then,” he said, brushing the soot off his trousers and then holding his arms out to her, “give him here.”

Hermione gave him a disbelieving stare, before slowly acquiescing. “Be my guest. He hasn’t stopped since he woke up. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

She watched as Draco took the boy in his arms and held him tight to his chest, rubbing Teddy’s back. The cries slowly began to peter off while Draco spoke in a low, gentle voice to Teddy, saying mostly nonsense.

“Now now, Ted, ol’ chap, this will hardly do. You’re making a very poor display for Hermione. Black men never lose their composure like this in front of a lady- we’ve got a bit more class than that. I’m sure you don’t care a bit about pretty witches now, but someday you will, and it’s best to practice now. Come on, there’s a good lad.” Draco continued to pacify the baby with back rubs and his soothing voice, until Teddy stuck his fat, little fist in his mouth and fell back asleep.

Hermione watched, incredulous, as Draco laid Teddy back down, and then made to sit on the sofa, indicating that she should join him. “How did you do that?” she whispered. “And why are you here?”

Draco smiled. “Teddy and I have had many encounters before. When I started hanging out at the Burrow, I became friendly with Aunt ‘Dromeda. Babies aren’t that hard once you figure out what they prefer. I think he almost likes me as much as Potter, these days,” he explained, then grabbed her feet, which were half tucked under her on the couch, and pulled them into his lap. “And to answer your second question, I’m here to help.” He began rubbing wide circles with his thumb across the arch of her right foot. “Blaise is visiting his mother today, and I couldn’t possibly go with him-- Mrs. Zabini has hit on me religiously since I was 15. So I went to the Burrow, thinking maybe I’d see what you lot were up to. Mrs. Weasley told me that you were here, and I figured it was only a matter of time before you’d wish you hadn’t come alone. He can be a bit of a ghastly, little beast when he’s in a temper.”

“Well, thank you for coming to rescue me,” she said, releasing a pleased groan as Draco moved to the ball of her foot, “I was failing spectacularly. He doesn’t seem to like me much.”

Draco shook his head. “I wouldn’t take that personally.”

She let out a forced laugh. “My instincts are a bit off. I suppose I’m probably not meant to be a mother.”

He rolled his eyes at her, squeezing her heel. “Of course you are.”

“Look at Teddy!” she exclaimed, though it lost a bit of emphasis as they were still speaking in hushed tones, so as not to wake the baby. “I’m just... not the mothering type, I guess.”

At that, Draco laughed. “Granger, you’ve been mothering Potter and Weasley since we were 11. Of course you’re the mothering type. You’re just not used to babies. You’ll learn. You don’t have to be good at everything immediately, you know.” Draco rolled his eyes, but gave her a playful smirk.

She blushed. “Perhaps,” she concurred. “That feels amazing, Draco, but you really don’t have to continue…”

He smirked at her. “I meant what I said last night. I’m going to show you who I am now.” He squeezed the toes on her right foot, before switching to the left, repeating his motions from the previous foot. “Admittedly, this a bit more… forward, than I would have been if I were still just trying to earn your friendship, but as I’m now trying to win your affections as well, just sit there and be quiet. I know that’s difficult for you, but just…” he ran his knuckles up her ankle, “let me do this.”

Hermione wiggled her toes. “Fine. I’ll be quiet, but only if you talk.”

“About what, Granger?”

She thought for a moment. “Anything. Surprise me. I just don't like silence.”

And so that was how Andromeda found them, almost an hour and a half later- Teddy asleep in his cot, Hermione and Draco on the sofa, her feet in his lap, him lecturing her about the differences between valerian harvested in the spring verses valerian harvested in the fall and how each impacts Sleeping Draught.

“Draco! What a lovely surprise!” she said, clearly eyeing both him and Hermione, the latter who had tried to pull her feet back, but the former wasn’t having it.

“I figured Granger might need a bit of help. She’s not super familiar with the little beast, yet,” he said, giving Hermione’s right foot one last squeeze, and releasing both from his grip.

Andromeda went over to check on Teddy, pulling him out of the cot, and smiling at him brightly. “Were you a good little man for Draco and Aunt Hermione?” Lifting him into her arms she noted that he needed his nappy changed, but Draco stepped in and took Teddy from her.

“Please, Aunt ‘Dromeda. Visits to the loo are a man thing. We can handle this together, can’t we, Teddy?” he said, curling the little bundle into his chest. Teddy reached up to grab his cousin’s nose, but Draco instead intercepted the little hand and stuffed it into his own mouth, mimicking chewing noises that made Teddy giggle. Hermione tried desperately not to swoon- both at the adorable (and surprising) ease with which he handled the baby, and at his wonderful bum, which was perfectly on display in his black trousers- as she was painfully aware that Andromeda was intensely studying her.

“So,” the older witch started with a small, knowing smile, “you and Draco are, what? Friends now?”

Hermione shrugged. “We’re working on a friendship, yes.”

“I see…” Andromeda replied, casually. “And so that was a friendly way you were just ogling him as he left the room, then?” Hermione cringed, and Andromeda chuckled, continuing, “Hermione, he’s a nice boy. Nice looking, too. There’s nothing wrong with fancying him a bit- he obviously fancies you. Merlin, if his father knew that he was not only massaging a muggleborn’s feet, but looking at her reverently while he did it…”

“I try not to remember that Lucius exists,” Hermione stated, flatly. She didn’t want to alarm Andromeda, but bringing up Draco’s father had just forced the idea in her head of dealing with his parents. Eventually dating Draco means eventually dealing with his parents… eventually going to Malfoy Manor. Is that something I can even do?

Draco returned, carrying a now wide awake Teddy. Draco had him facing out, and when he spotted his grandmother, his little face lit up. She held out her arms and Draco passed him over, coming to stand beside Hermione who unconsciously drew away from him a bit. At that he frowned, but Andromeda was already ushering them into the fireplace, and so he made a note to bring it up later.

After dinner, everyone left the crowded table. Fleur and Andromeda were helping Molly clear the table, Percy was explaining a new piece of legislation to Arthur, and Ginny was organizing a game of quidditch.

“Right,” she said, hands on her hips, “it’ll be me, Charlie, Blaise, and George, against-- Harry, give Teddy to Hermione, would you?- against Harry, Bill, Draco, and Ron? All right?”

Everyone murmured their agreement and moved to grab their brooms, except Draco. “I’m not feeling much like quidditch, actually. Luna will play in my spot, won’t you, Luna?”

Harry and Bill shot Draco a murderous glare, while the dreamy witch nodded and moved to take Draco’s broom from Blaise. Draco turned and made a beeline for a certain brunette who was talking to a red-haired infant.

“That won’t do, Ted. You’re spending too much time around Weasleys,” he told the baby, who looked his way and broke out into a wide, gummy smile, as his hair turned white-blonde.

“You’re good with him,” Hermione said, quietly, watching the face of the baby who was so enamored with the man beside her, and still deliberately not looking at Draco. She knew he had come over to talk to her, and she wasn’t necessarily ready to address her issues. How do you tell someone that you’re afraid to get romantically involved with them because of their family and where they live?

“Granger, what happened before? We were doing well, and then next thing I know you’re recoiling from my touch and avoiding me at dinner,” Draco said, turning to look down at the witch.

She sighed. “Hold him for a moment,” she said, handing the baby to Draco, before transfiguring a leaf into a picnic blanket. She sat down on it, then held out her arms to take Teddy back, sitting him in front of her. He could almost sit by himself, but he nestled back into her, nonetheless. Draco sat beside them, looking at her expectantly. Hesitantly, she explained, “Andromeda said something, while you were with Teddy, and… well I suppose it just got me thinking.”

When she didn’t immediately continue Draco prompted, “About?”

She took another moment, and then looked him directly in the eyes, deciding to confront him candidly about the issue. “About… whatever it is that you’d like from me, Draco. Let’s say we date… how are your parents going to take that? I mean, it’s one thing to play nice in a post-Voldemort world, but it’s another to bring home a muggleborn witch for dinner. And speaking of home, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to visit Malfoy Manor...”

Draco cut her off, as he felt more ranting coming. “Granger, let’s hold on for a just a moment, okay?” He grabbed her hand, careful to keep an eye on the baby who was ripping out grass at the edge of the blanket, and giggling at his own cleverness. “I’d like to actually start dating before we’re worried about all the issues that might arise from us being together.”

She shook her head. “But these things are important, Draco. Why set ourselves up for failure? If it’s not going to work, better we figure that out now, before either of us gets too attached to the idea.”

Draco paled and dropped her hand. “Are you saying ‘no’, then?”

Hermione took a long look at the frantic and dejected look on his face, then settled her gaze on her jagged thumb nail. “I’m not saying ‘no’, I’m just saying we should think about these things.”

He sighed. “Granger… Hermione.” That caught her attention, and she snapped her head to look at him. “The reason I’m willing to go so slowly, and put in all the work now, is because I know that once you’re mine, I’m not going to let you go. So whenever my parents get out of Azkaban, we’ll cross that bridge, but know that I’m not going to cast aside my feelings for you because Lucius might take issue with it.” He paused for a moment, then said, “And you should know I would never make you go back there. I’m… well, I wasn’t going to tell anyone but Blaise this yet, but I’m knocking it down.”

Hermione was sure she was confused. “Knocking what down?”

He laughed. “Knocking the manor down.”

She frowned. “Draco… you can’t--”

“I certainly can,” he interrupted. “When Lucius went to prison, I became the head of the House of Malfoy. I’m of age. No one can stop me.”

Hermione just shook her head in disbelief, and so he continued in a softer voice, “I don’t have happy memories there. Not anymore. I didn’t exactly have a cheery childhood and any fond memories I might have had were… well, put it this way, He lived there.” He shivered a little, seemingly lost in his own horrid memories. She took in the slump of his shoulders and the dull, sad haze that had robbed his beautiful eyes of their normal luster. She reached over and squeezed his hand, giving him a warm, reassuring smile when he met her eyes.

“So what do you intend to do, then?” she asked, picking Teddy up and laying him on his belly.

“I’m going to have it demolished when we go back to school. I’ve got some plans drawn up for reconstruction, and it should be done by the end of term when it’s time to go home for the holidays.”

“Tell me about your new home. Is it going to be just as grand?” she asked, smiling at how delighted he seemed with his plans.

“Not quite as big. I don’t need all that space. As a kid, I always felt like the manor was a bit cold. I want my children to grow up in a home, you know? There will still be all the ridiculous staples-- ballrooms and a cloak room and stables-- but I also want things that my ancestors couldn’t dream of. Electricity, for starters.”

“Electricity?” she asked.

“Yep,” he replied. “I want a big telly. Potter tells me there’s a whole world of muggle sports just waiting to be explored. And how else are you going to show me more films?” He gave her a cocky smirk, and laid on his back, resting his hands behind his head.

She felt butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. “Oh, I’m visiting this new home of yours, am I?” she asked with a smile, picking up Teddy and placing him on Draco’s stomach. The baby made a loud, delighted screeching giggle.

He made a silly face at Teddy, then turned to Hermione as if he hadn’t just been entertaining an infant, and gave her a smug look. “Well of course you are. I’m hoping you’ll agree to live there someday, otherwise the enormous library I’m putting in will really be a waste.” He picked Teddy up and held him straight up, flying him around in the air, making light whooshing noises. Then, dropping his smug expression, he added in a gentler, vulnerable voice, “I meant what I said before, Granger. I don’t mean to be too forward, but I’m all in. I’ve had feelings for you for awhile, and I intend to give you every reason to keep me around for the long term.”

Those damn butterflies seemed to be multiplying. She looked into his beautiful silver eyes, and seeing the honesty and hope reflected there, a smile slowly stretched across her face. He returned it, and she thought she’d never get tired of seeing his lovely smile, especially when it was just for her. She tried to silence the part of her brain that was warning her this was all moving too fast. There’s nothing about this that is rational, she thought. We certainly have a long way to go, but for now, I’m going to enjoy daydreaming about the future. Anything can happen, but if the war taught me anything, it’s that I should enjoy the here and now. She looked at the handsome blonde who was smiling at her so prettily, and leaned into him. “So,” she began, “a library, you say?”

Chapter Text

Ch. 10- On His Favorite Things

“And you’re both sure that you’ve got your lists?” Mrs. Weasley asked for the fourth time that morning, already.

“Yes, Mum. We’ve got our lists. We don’t really need a whole lot. Some potions ingredients and a book or two,” Ginny rattled off, eager to leave for Diagon Alley with Hermione.

“We won’t be gone long, Mrs. Weasley. We just need to pick up a few things for school, and we thought we’d stop in to see the boys,” Hermione explained, as she felt Ginny’s impatience growing.

“And then we’ll be back here, so you can have one last group dinner before we leave!” Ginny explained, making her way to the fireplace.

Mrs. Weasley nodded sadly, clearly upset that they didn’t need her to go into Diagon Alley with them. Hermione had tried to suggest to Ginny earlier in the week that maybe they should invite her, but Ginny was adamantly opposed-- she seemed to be quite fond of the newfound independence she had acquired.

Stepping through the floo and out into the Leaky Cauldron, the girls dusted themselves off, and made for the street. Hermione pulled her list from her pocket, but Ginny seemed much more keen to take their time.

“What’s the rush, Hermione? We haven’t spent time together, just the two of us, in a couple days,” she explained, peering into a window of the Magical Menagerie, where two crup puppies were wrestling in a cage.

Hermione sighed. She supposed her friend was right. “If I agree, will you go to Flourish and Blotts with me?” she asked, smiling widely.

“Sneaky bint,” Ginny grumbled, but then nodded with a grin and a wink.

The two headed down the street towards the bookshop, admiring the various shops that were rebuilding and restarting since the end of the war. Several people waved at them as they moved along, and one or two people stopped them to chat. They saw several former classmates-- Ernie was shopping for a new familiar, Anthony and Padma were heading to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and Hannah had just started a job at the Leaky Cauldron. When they finally made it to Flourish and Blotts, Hermione pulled out a list and went snooping around the store.

“Hermione, none of these things are on our booklist!” Ginny groaned, looking over the brunette’s shoulder at the list she was studying.

“Well of course not. I ordered those books ages ago! How would I have read them before term starts if I had waited until today to purchase them? No, these are books I made a list of while travelling this summer,” she explained, consulting her list and pulling down a large tome from a high shelf.

Twenty minutes, and six books later, Hermione paid for her purchases, and gave her list to the gentleman at the counter, explaining that she would like for him to send her the books as they came in. Ginny rolled her eyes, and pulled Hermione out of the shop. “You’re lucky I don’t make you look at quidditch things,” the redhead warned, but Hermione just laughed.

“I heard that Florean Fortescue’s is open again. Want to get some ice cream?” Ginny asked, and at her friend’s nod, they crossed the street to the ice cream parlor.

Sitting down with a cone apiece- lemon meringue for Ginny and salted caramel for Hermione- the girls reflected on the past few days.

“I never would have thought you’d have warmed up to the snakes so quickly,” Ginny told her friend, licking the side of her cone where the ice cream had started to drip.

“Yes, well, they’re hardly the same people we grew up with,” Hermione agreed. Then, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop, she leaned in to her friend. “Ginny… I have to tell you something. And I don’t want you to make a big fuss or anything… promise you’ll behave?”

Ginny smirked. “I’ll make no such promises.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s… well, it’s that… the other night, Draco... erm...”

“Yes? What about Draco the other night?”

“He fancies me,” Hermione blurted out.

Ginny just smiled. “Worked that out, have you?”

The brunette shook her head. “No, he told me. The other night. At the club.”

Ginny sat up straight. “What?! And you’re just now telling me?”

“It all happened sort of fast. Everything has. And then yesterday we were with Teddy and you were at work… Ginny, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Tell me everything.”

“I can’t believe you told Granger how you felt, and you’re just now telling me! Are we best mates or not?” Blaise exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, and nearly falling off his broom.

“You were with your harpy of a mother yesterday! And before that we were both a bit incapacitated! I’m telling you now!”

“What did she say?” Blaise asked, flying closer to his blonde friend.

“That’s my girl,” Ginny exclaimed, nodding, “make him really work for it!”

Hermione slumped down in her chair. “This isn’t about punishing him, Gin. I just don’t really know him at all.”

“But if you wanted to punish him- just a little, you know- I don’t think that’s out of line. He was a bastard to you for seven years,” Ginny told her with an air of nonchalance that was undermined by the wicked gleam in her eyes.

“He seems to be quite sincere about earning my trust. Winning my affections, he said,” Hermione explained. “Although I just about gave up yesterday. Seeing him with Teddy? I thought my heart would give out.”

“Normally I’m the one making eyes at her, Blaise, but let me just say that the baby was like a pheromone or something.”

“That’s it, mate. Show her how cute and paternal you can be,” Blaise joked, laughing at his friend.

“Not this again…”

“I just think it’s hilarious that you like kids! I mean, look at you! No one would ever suspect that! It’s incredibly amusing,” Blaise got out in between hearty laughs.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about it,” Draco pouted, crossing his arms across his chest.

“It’s a good thing, mate. I mean, with Granger, you’ll probably end up as a stay-at-home father. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of bird to let babies get in the way of her career.” At Draco’s stupid smile Blaise continued, “oh, Merlin. You like that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do! Granger all feisty and professional, holding grown men by the bollocks… metaphorically, of course, as I’d prefer mine to be the bollocks she’s physically holding.” Blaise laughed, but Draco just shrugged and told him, “I’ve always liked it when she gets all swotty. Huge turn on. I don’t mind staying with the kids if she’ll come home in little, muggle business suits and boss me around with that smart mouth of hers.”

“One step at a time, mate. You’ve got to get her to be yours, first.”

“I know it’s crazy, Ginny, and not even remotely logical, but… I fancy him a bit, too. Before it was just attraction, you know?”

“Of course I know. Don’t get me wrong, Blaise is a lovely specimen and I’m glad he’s mine, but there’s no denying that Draco’s fit.”

“But now, it’s not even just about that… He’s smart, Gin. So smart. And when he’s not using his smarts to bully Harry or let Death Eaters into the castle…” Hermione lowered her voice, “well, to be honest, it’s quite the turn on.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Gross.”

Hermione laughed. “I’m gonna make him wait a bit because this has all moved much too fast and we need to get to know one another… but I thought, maybe you could help me…” she trailed off, looking for the right words.

“Tease him?” Ginny offered, and at Hermione’s embarrassed nod, the redhead squealed, “yes! Let’s stop by a muggle clothing store before we head home. Now, come on. We still need to stop by Slug and Jiggers and Wiseacre's before we go see the boys at George’s shop.”

Picking up a pair of lace knickers, Hermione turned to her friend. “I don’t know why we’re here,” she questioned. “It’s not like he’s seeing me in these anytime soon. We’re hardly there.”

Ginny gave Hermione a patronizing look and said, “not yet, but if things keep going like they are now, you intend for him to see them eventually, yeah? It’s best to be prepared.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Hermione nodded, picking up another pair and throwing them into her basket.

“You guys are sharing a common room, too, right?” Ginny asked, a look of pure evil crossing her features. Hermione nodded. “What if you got some tarty pyjamas? Nothing too scandalous, because you want him to believe you sleep like that all the time, but then you could just wander around casually and let his imagination run wild…”

“Ginevra Weasley, you little minx!” Hermione exclaimed with a laugh, and nodded her assent, following her friend to another section of the lingerie store.

After their day of shopping, the two dropped their packages off in their bedroom. Hermione had gone to shower, while Ginny divvied up their purchases and packed their new things in their trunks. When Hermione got back, Ginny was sitting on her bed, reading Witch Weekly. She looked up from her magazine, then excitedly gestured for Hermione to sit on the bed. Drying Hermione’s hair with her wand, she said, “you know, if you’d just take the time to do this, your hair wouldn’t be bushy. The curls aren’t the problem, ‘Mione, it’s the frizz.” Hermione shrugged and let Ginny pull her girls into a quasi-bun on the top of her head. “There,” she said, pulling out a few tendrils, which hung in dainty springs around Hermione’s face, “pretty, but still practical.”

She ordered Hermione into undergarments, while she pulled a dress they had just purchased from her trunk.

“A dress, Gin? Don’t you think that’s a bit… much?” Hermione asked, eyeing her friend, but Ginny just shook her head.

“It’s a sundress, Hermione. It’s pretty casual. Besides, it’s our last night home- I don’t think it’s bizarre for you to want to look a little nice.”

The dress in question was one Hermione had picked out while they were shopping- a simple, white, eyelet sundress with spaghetti straps, that came to mid thigh. Hermione had liked it because it was simple. She pulled it on over her head, and turned to face Ginny, who smiled at her.

“You look lovely, ‘Mione. Like one of those muggle angels,” Ginny told her, gesturing for her to sit again, on the bed. A glamour to her eyelashes, and she was all set. Then Ginny brushed out her own hair and the two headed down the stairs to join the rest of the family.

Draco was sitting with Blaise, George, and Harry in the sitting room. Harry had been trying to teach them to play a muggle board game for the better part of an hour, and they had finally gotten the hang of it.

“Well now, Hermione, don’t you look nice! What’s a bloke like me got to do to have a shot with you?” George called, when Ginny and Hermione came down the stairs.

Draco had his back to them, but heard Hermione laugh and answer, “Not be a bloke like you, for starters!” He turned around, and felt his breath hitch. She was a vision in white. Smiling widely, she looked happy and innocent and beautiful. He realized a moment too late that he had been very obviously staring at her.

“Oi Malfoy! Catching flies?” Harry asked him, while Blaise and George snickered. He was going to send back a scathing retort, but then Hermione shot him a little smirk and a wink, and all rational thought was gone.

“Oh Harry, really? Monopoly? I can’t imagine they understand this at all,” Hermione admonished, coming to stand beside the black haired man. Blaise had pulled Ginny into his lap, but at the glare from her brother, kept his hands where George could see them.

“Yes, well,” Harry explained, pulling off his glasses to clean them on his shirt before replacing them on his face, “we were doing okay until you lot came downstairs. Now these two,” he pointed to Blaise and Draco, “are well and truly distracted!”

“Too right,” Draco agreed, standing up, “fancy a walk with me, Hermione?”

She laughed, but nodded, following him out the back door.

“You don’t want to put on shoes?” he asked her when they got outside, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s nice to feel grass under your toes! We won’t go far,” she told him, wiggling her toes to emphasize her point.

Draco walked in the direction of the orchard. He slowed his pace, as Hermione had to walk a bit faster to keep up with him, but eventually they fell into a comfortable stroll.

“Granger, you look beautiful,” Draco told her, after they’d been walking for a few minutes.

“Thank you,” she replied with a blush. “Did you bring me all the way out here to tell me that?”

He laughed. “I brought you out here to tell you that without those prats giving me a hard time,” he explained, admiring how the slight breeze blew the curls that framed her face.

“That’s fair, I suppose. They just like taking the mickey. Though, in all fairness to them, you were staring,” she said, giggling in a most un-Hermione way.

She’s flirting with me! he thought, and smiled down at her. “Granger, that’s hardly fair. You come downstairs, taking a bloke completely by surprise, with your hair up so I can see that lovely neck of yours that I’m so fond of, looking so innocent and beautiful, like a nymph, and you expect me not to ogle you? This is hardly my fault.”

Hermione looked up at him, puzzled. “You like my neck?”

A slight blush colored Draco’s cheeks. “Well, yeah.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “Men are weird, Granger.”

“I know that,” she agreed with a small smile, “but even still, necks aren’t exactly what most men are interested in…”

“Oh, make no mistake, I’m interested in many other parts of you, as well. I just happen to especially enjoy your neck. That night at your parent’s house I discovered that it’s quite nice for nuzzling.”

“I see,” she said, blushing, and looking down at her hands.

Following her line of vision, he grabbed her hands, running his thumbs over her knuckles. “But like I said, I have other favorites, too. These hands, for example,” he explained, then placed a kiss on the top of first her right and then her left hand. “They’re soft and tiny, which makes me feel macho,” he explained, and she snorted. He smiled down at her and continued, “I like holding them. And your hair, I’ve already told you I quite like your hair,” she rolled her eyes at him, and he continued, “I’m being very serious, Granger. It’s so… you. It’s hard to think of you without thinking of your wild curls.” She looked up at him and he stared into her big, brown eyes. “And those eyes. I like those quite a lot, as well. They’re so open and expressive… it’s easy to tell what you’re thinking by your eyes alone. I could study your eyes for hours, Granger.” She smiled. “And I love that bossy mouth of yours. Always have. It’s my favorite of your features… though I’ll be honest and say that I’ve done a bit of imagining other areas I might enjoy a lot, as well.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she barked out a laugh at his boldness. “I… don’t suppose you’d let me show you just how much I enjoy your mouth?”

She looked up at him for a moment, studying his expression. His face was expectant and he was kindly smiling at her. She knew that if she let him kiss her, there would be no going back. That would be her relinquishing control-- they’d be together. I suppose it’s time to see how serious he is about this.She shook her head. “Not yet,”she told him, backing away and releasing his hand. “It’s still too soon, Draco.”

His face fell, but he nodded and gave her a small smile. “Whatever you want, Granger. You’re the boss.”

“Come on, let’s head back,” she said with a smile. “Dinner will be soon.” She turned to walk back to the house, and he followed.

“So, Granger, tell me what you’re reading,” Draco asked, turning to her. She smiled wide, and launched into a lengthy explanation about How the Mind Works by Steven Pinker. She was so caught up in explanation and discussion with Draco, that she failed to notice she had stepped on a rogue piece of glass from a jar Ron had broken when he had been out collecting insects with Luna.

She shrieked, caught off guard by the sudden stinging, and fell to the ground to examine her foot. Draco quickly leapt into action, sitting beside her and pulling her foot into his lap to investigate. Once he was sure he had the glass out of her foot, he muttered a quick healing spell, touching her with his wand, and then a ‘tergio’ to clean the blood off her foot. He also vanished the stray glass, for good measure.

“You should be all set, Granger,” he told her, standing up, “but I wouldn’t walk on that for a little while; even with the healing charm it’s going to be sensitive.”

“Would you help me back to the house? Just to lean on you a bit?” Hermione asked, grimacing in pain when she accidentally put weight on her injured foot.

Draco reached his hand out to pull her up, and when she stood beside him, he saw her scowl again in pain. “Granger, let me carry you,” he told her.

“That’s hardly necessary. I can do this,” she said in a haughty voice. She didn’t want him to think she couldn’t do things for herself.

“You’re mental. Let me carry you,” he repeated.

“I don’t need you to carry me, Draco!” she exclaimed, accidentally stomping her injured foot, and yelping in pain.

He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, walking back to the house. For the first few minutes, she wriggled about and pounded her fists, putting up a fight. After a while, however, she just gave up, and let him carry her back to the house, flung over his shoulder like a dead deer.

“What have you got there, Malfoy?” Bill called, when the two approached the table. Bill and Charlie were setting the table, attempting to stifle their chuckles at the situation Hermione had found herself in.

“I cut open my foot, and someone seemed to think that makes me an invalid. I would have hexed him a long time ago, except I seem to have left my wand in my room,” Hermione explained, while Draco deposited her in a chair.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a smirk.

She crossed her arms and huffed, “I’m not speaking with you right now.”

Bill and Charlie openly laughed at the two of them, while Draco just shrugged.

Later that evening, Ginny sat between Draco and Blaise, watching Hermione, Ron, and Harry joking around across the garden. Hermione was walking again, admittedly with a slight limp, and still wasn’t speaking to Draco.

“You’re not even together and you’re already in trouble,” Blaise noted, studying his friend, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Hermione.

“I don’t care. I was right. She can be upset all she wants,” Draco said, turning his attention to his friend.

“This has nothing to do with you being right, and everything to do with Hermione being independent, you tosser. She doesn’t want you to think she needs you to take care of her,” Ginny explained.

“Gryffindors are bloody annoying,” Draco said, standing up and moving to the other three. He loved watching Hermione laugh. And while he especially loved Hermione’s laugh when he was the cause, anytime he got to see her face light up, he was pleased. When he approached, however, she quickly stopped giggling.

“Granger, let’s talk,” he said, planting himself down beside her.

“Ready to apologize for manhandling me?” she asked in a snotty voice, and both Harry and Ron got up and left. Cowards, Draco thought, watching them go.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll apologize for ‘manhandling’ you, though I hardly think I was indelicate. I will not, however, apologize for helping you. You’re being difficult for no reason,” he told her, his face firm.

“I didn’t ask for your help!” she told him, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“No, but you needed it! It’s okay to need help sometimes, Granger!” he exclaimed, then took a minute to calm down before saying, “You’re being stubborn for no reason. I know you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself-- we just discussed this the other night at the club after I watched you punch that arsehole. You’re self-sufficient, I get that… but when you care about someone you take care of them. Sometimes you’ll need me, and sometimes I’ll need you.”

She studied his face, which was still very firm with resolve, but was also reflecting something else. Pleading, she realized. He’s begging me to understand him. Slowly, she nodded. “I’m a pain, you know,” she told him.

He nodded. “I’m well aware.”

She laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be wooing me? That’s hardly nice.”

He shrugged. “We established before that I’m not going to lie to you anymore. You can be a pain in the arse. And a perfectionist. And so bloody stubborn. You’re not perfect, and I’m not going to let you walk all over me just because I fancy you.”

She pouted, turning away from him. “I don’t know why you fancy me if I’m such a stubborn, annoying perfectionist.”

He laughed at her. “Granger, if you’re looking for someone who will kiss your arse all the time, it’s not me. I want to be honest with you. So when you’re being lovely and swotty and sexy and adorable, I’ll tell you that. And when you’re being a right pain in the arse and a stubborn chit, I’ll tell you that, too. Just like I fully expect you tell me when I’m being an arsehole and a whiny git.” He moved in a bit closer, to whisper in her ear. “Right now, for example, you are being dreadfully stubborn, but you’re also quite cute when you pout.” She huffed. “And I’m being a pushy git, but I don’t like it when you’re miffed at me. I won’t lie to you, Granger, and I’m not going to stop trying to take care of you when you need it. That’s what being with me means, and you should know that upfront.” When he finished speaking he stood up and walked back to the garden to say goodbye to the other three, before apparating home.

Chapter Text

Ch. 11- On the Hogwarts Express Again

Hermione woke up the next morning well before she intended. She kept replaying the previous night over in her head. Why was I being so stubborn? He was right, relationships are about taking care of one another. I don’t have to be so independent all the time… it’s not like he doubts I can handle myself. She heard Ginny stir.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” the redhead asked, blinking at Hermione.

“I’m an idiot, Gin,” Hermione explained, getting off her bed and moving to Ginny’s.

“You’re hardly an idiot, Hermione. Now, tell me what you did.”

Hermione relayed the events of the previous day and her conversations with Draco.

“Merlin, Hermione. Most girls would love to have some guy fawning over them, much less Draco Malfoy!” Ginny giggled.

“Well I’ve gone and bollocksed it all up, haven’t I? He’s not going to want to be with me anymore now that he knows what a lunatic I am…” Hermione whinged.

Ginny couldn’t help herself- she laughed outright at her friend, and at the brunette’s glare she explained, “I’m sorry, ‘Mione, but that’s ridiculous. He’s known you for years-- he knows what you’re like. He’s mad about you- anyone can see that. He isn’t going to stop fancying you because you got upset with him. Think about it, it’s Draco-- he wouldn’t be interested if you weren’t such a challenge.”

Mrs. Weasley inspected the latches on the girls’ trunks, then pulled them both in for a hug.

“Mum, stop this. You can come visit us in Hogsmeade and we’ll be home in a few short months for the holidays.”

“Thank you for everything, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said, giving the older witch a tight squeeze and grabbing hold of her trunk. Crookshanks basket lay empty in the corner of the room-- he had adamantly refused to leave his beloved garden to return to Hogwarts with Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, and wiped her eyes, as the girls gave hugs to Harry and Ron, who promised to write soon to coordinate a visit. The two girls then grabbed their trunks and apparated straight on to Platform 9¾.

They looked around, taking in everything around them. We’re going back. Hermione’s heart felt full and happy as she watched parents loading trunks on to the train and students greeting their friends. Out of the steam, Blaise and Draco came to join their side, Blaise wrapping his arm around Ginny and kissing her temple.

“Let’s get a compartment, yeah?” Blaise called over the noise, and he made to walk towards the train, leading Ginny. Hermione had intentionally lagged behind a bit, attempting to gauge Draco’s mood with her. When he saw she was behind the three of them, he turned over his shoulder and asked, “Coming, Granger?” She nodded, mood buoyed by his interest. “What are you doing back there, then?” he asked.

“Admiring the view,” she said with a wink, the defiant look on her face undermined by her very apparent blush.

Draco couldn’t even fight the dopey expression that graced his face as he boarded the train. Hermione hadn’t written him off. Nothing could bring him down. Not even--

“What are you doing here, Death Eater scum?” a scrawny Ravenclaw fourth year asked him, sticking his chin up in the air.

Draco was about to retort when Hermione jumped in. “He’s here to learn, same as you. And that’ll be 10 points from Ravenclaw for speaking to your Head Boy like that,” she reprimanded, giving an impressive imitation of McGonagall. The boy glared at her and ran off, slipping into a compartment.

“Granger, you don’t have to--” he began, but she interrupted.

“--we take care of each other, right? That’s how this works?” She gave him a small smirk, and grabbed his arm to drag him down to the compartment Ginny and Blaise had commandeered.

Ten minutes later, when the train departed the station, news had already spread that, yes, Draco Malfoy was on the train and, yes, he was Head Boy and, most interestingly, yes, Hermione Granger had defended him. Hermione and Draco left their compartment to make their way to the compartment at the front of the train for the prefect’s meeting. They slid open the door and found 24 pairs of eyes on them. As always, Hermione took the lead.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Hermione Granger and this is Draco Malfoy. We’ll be your Head Students this year. We’ve already compiled your patrol schedules, so you can have those right away. Draco will pass those around. You’ll see that you’re all paired with someone from another house. That is because this year, inter-house unity is critical, and we expect you all to lead by example. The war is over. Draco, do you have anything to add?”

He nodded. “Prefect meetings will be Wednesday evenings at six o’clock. They are mandatory and misses without a legitimate excuse will result in the loss of your badge.” He cleared his throat, then said in a bit shakier voice, “On a personal note, I want to acknowledge that I know I’m probably a bit of a surprising choice for this post, but I intend to do my best. I’m sorry for my behavior in the past, and I intend to make up for it however I can. I’d like to assure you all that Granger and I,” she wrapped her arm through his and looked up at him, smiling, “are committed to making this a positive and productive school year. If I’ve personally done something to you, please seek me out, as I’d like to atone for that. If you don’t like me simply because of my last name and reputation… well, I suppose I can’t help that, but I hope you’ll give me the chance this year to show you that I’ve changed.”

The compartment was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Desiring to put an end to the awkward silence Hermione said, “Right then, if there are no questions, you’re all dismissed. Please take a piece of parchment on your way out- I’ve charmed them to show you your house’s password.”

Everyone filed out of the compartment, leaving Draco and Hermione behind. She studied him-- his shoulders were set and his jaw was clenched. He looked strained.

“You can breathe now,” she told him, “it’s just me.”

He exhaled deeply. “This is going to be a long year, Granger.”

She nodded in agreement, but leaned up to whisper in his ear, “You’re not alone, y’know? We’ll get through it together,” and she kissed him on the cheek. Draco all but floated back to the compartment he was sharing with Hermione, Ginny, and Blaise, surprised to see that Neville had joined them.

The train ride was longer than Hermione remembered. Hermione read, Draco and Ginny played Exploding Snap, and Blaise and Neville discussed the rebuilding of Diagon Alley. It seemed that Neville had spent a lot of time in Diagon Alley over the past few months, especially taking an interest in a certain new employee at The Leaky Cauldron. At some point, Luna entered their compartment and sat beside Hermione.

“Hello, Hermione,” she intoned in that dreamy voice of hers. “You and Draco seem to be getting on quite nicely. The whole train seems to be talking about it.”

Hermione groaned. “The whole train?”

“Surely that’s no surprise to you. Someone as smart as you are had to know that this would be coming,” she stated, taking special interest in something just outside the window.

“I had hoped to avoid it for a bit. Ah well, nothing I can do about it now. How are you, Luna?” Hermione asked.

“Fine, thanks. Ronald asked me to write to him while I’m at school. I was telling him just the other day that I’m worried veela will use their powers of manipulation to rise to the tops of our new government. That’s what happened last time, you know,” Luna explained.

“Luna… do you like Ron?” Hermione asked.

“Well yes, of course. He’s very nice. Like Ginny,” Luna answered, waving to the aforementioned witch across the compartment.

“Yes, but do you fancy Ron? You know, romantically. Not like how you like Ginny.”

“I suppose I do. I used to fancy Ginny romantically, too, of course, but I’ve since moved on,” Luna explained conversationally.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Luna, I didn’t know you liked girls as well. That was rude of me to assume,” Hermione rushed out, but Luna gave her a wide smile.

“You’re so silly, Hermione. We’re all people. It’s not as if I’ve told you I prefer blibbering humdingers,” she clapped a hand over her mouth, giggling to herself. Then, composed, she explained, “I do fancy Ronald, though. Does that upset you?”

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “Not at all. We weren’t compatible… you and Ron would make a lovely couple.”

“Thank you,” Luna said simply, followed by, “and so would you and Draco.”

Hermione choked. “What?” she asked.

“Draco’s rather fond of you, isn’t he? How long do you think you’ll keep him waiting?” Luna asked and with her big eyes full of innocence and sincerity Hermione knew that this was just Luna’s propensity for stating the truth, and not fishing for gossip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Luna,” Hermione told her.

“That’s why you look a bit nicer than usual today, isn’t it?” Luna asked. “You’re very pretty, Hermione, but you usually don’t really try.”

Hermione looked down at herself. She was wearing denims and a purple vest. Perhaps it was a bit tighter than she’d normally wear, but she hadn’t consciously dressed with Draco in mind this morning.

“Don’t worry,” Luna leaned in and told her, “I don’t think he’s caught on.”

The train continued to wend its way through hills and across fields. At some point, they had all taken time to change into their uniforms, so they were ready for the feast when they finally reached Hogsmeade station. Hermione and Draco helped to get all the first years in boats, and by the time they were sure they had loaded the last of them, all the other carriages had left. The two piled into the remaining carriage and felt the slow pull of being taken back up to the castle they considered home.

“So…” Draco began with a cheeky smirk, “wore that little top today for me, did you?”

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, her face growing red, but she quickly schooled her expression into one of defiance. “I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about,” she lied.

“I may have eavesdropped a bit on your conversation with Lovegood, Granger,” he told her, not even looking ashamed of himself.

“You’re a pompous arse,” she told him, crossing her arms and looking out the small carriage window.

“And you,” he said, leaning over and speaking directly into her ear in a seductive purr, “are a horrible tease.”

He was too close. His spicy cologne was making her head spin and his warmth was making her heartbeat accelerate. What if I just kiss him? she thought to herself, but the other side of her brain immediately scolded back, that’s what he wants! Don’t give in. Stick to your guns! She backed away from him subtly, but he noticed all the same and immediately gave her her personal space back.

“For what it’s worth, Granger,” he told her, smiling his charming smile, “I liked it.” He winked at her and the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach at his proximity began doing a conga.

“I didn’t wear it for you, Draco,” she told him, honestly. His face fell a little, so she added, “But I won’t deny having bought certain other things with you in mind.”

His head snapped back to her and his eyes were pleading for more information. “What kind of things?” he asked. Her answer was a small, self-satisfied smile, and so, in a low, excited tone, he followed with, “Lacy sorts of things?”

Hermione laughed. “You’re hardly charming at all. That’s not what I was referring to, but perhaps yes, lacy sorts of things, as well.”

“You want charming, Miss Granger? I’ll give you charming!” he exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at her and flashing a dashing smile. She rolled her eyes, while he grabbed her right hand in both of his. Looking deep into her eyes, he said, “Granger, in all seriousness, I’ll do whatever I can to earn your affection. You want to be wooed? I’ll woo you. You want flowers, attention, gifts? You’re worth three times your weight in diamonds. If you’ll let me, I’ll lay down the world at your feet. I want this to be a partnership of equals, so I fully intend to respect your independence and the fact that you can beat my arse in a duel, but if you’d like to be spoiled in any way, you just say the word and your wish is my command.” Then he flipped her hand over, still cradling it between his much larger ones, and pressed a long, sweet, gentle kiss on her palm.

Trying not to swoon, Hermione laughed a nervous chuckle and said, “I bet you say those things to lots of girls, hmm?” But he solemnly shook his head.

“I’ve never courted a girl before, Granger. I take these things quite serious. Dating is a rather large deal in the circle I’m from… we don’t court women we don’t have the intention of keeping. My bastard father, for all his faults, loved my mother desperately. She’s the only person he’s ever loved or shown any sort of affection for. And I’ve always sort of aspired for that. I intend to love my children in a way he never loved me, of course, but… I’ve always rather thought that there’s one witch out there who’s soul mine would reach out to. I… don’t mean to scare you,” he said, looking at the rather stunned (and perhaps nauseated) expression on her face, “but I’ve always had rather romantic notions about love and dating. Does that… bother you?”

She sighed. This was all a lot to take in. “It doesn’t… bother me, per say, Draco. It’s just a lot, you know? I’m still coming to terms with the fact that you’ve apparently had feelings for me for some time. I’ve always thought that you were a sort of… well, ladies man, you know? You spend all your time with Blaise, who was quite the notorious lothario before Ginny, and you’re attractive enough to have any woman you want, whenever you want. So to know that your attention, all this time, was geared towards me? Me, whom you’ve never exactly been kind to before? It’s flattering, sure… and certainly romantic in a ‘star-crossed lovers’ sort of way… but it’s also incredibly overwhelming.”

He nodded. “I don’t want to rush you, Granger. We can go as slow as you want- I’m in no hurry. I mean,” he rubbed at the back of his neck and chuckled, “I’m going to continually pester you about snogging me, because I really want to and because you turn this lovely shade of pink when I bring it up, but you should know that I want you to be completely sure of everything we’re doing, every step of the way. I don’t want to… coerce you. I want to woo you.” He looked out the window as the carriage rolled to a stop, “Now then, we’re here.” He opened the door, stepping out, giving Hermione his hand,to assist her dismount as well.

They walked into the castle to see all the older students still waiting in the main entrance. Headmistress McGonagall came barrelling through the crowd towards Draco and Hermione. “There you two are!” she exclaimed, gesturing that they should follow her into a nearby classroom, while Professor Sprout opened the doors to the Great Hall for everyone else to file in. “I’m pleased to see you both survived your ride up here together. Andromeda tells me you’ve established a sort of truce?” At their nods she continued, “Wonderful. This year, we need to focus on rebuilding. I want this school to be an example to the rest of the wizarding world. You two getting along is a fantastic step. I admit, I expected that to be the first hurdle we’d have to cross… we’re already ahead of schedule.”

Hermione nodded. “We gave the prefects the same speech on the train.”

McGonagall turned to Draco. “You should know, Mr Malfoy, that you have my complete confidence. I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t squander this opportunity.”

His expression was guarded as he nodded, the warmth and sincerity he had shown Hermione in their carriage now hidden behind a cool mask of pure-blooded indifference. The headmistress led them out of the room and into the Great Hall. Hermione watched as Draco headed towards the Slytherin table, sitting beside Blaise. Sitting down beside Neville, she made a mental note that she wanted to talk to Draco later about McGonagall’s warning, and about his speech on the train. She turned her attention to McGonagall who was giving a speech at the front of the room.

Draco watched Hermione sitting at the Gryffindor table. She was sitting beside Longbottom, laughing at something that annoying Finnigan bloke said. He briefly got a little jealous, until he saw Thomas lean over and kiss Finnigan’s cheek.

“Draco? Are you even listening?” he heard distantly, and drew his attention back to his table where Pansy was waving her hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, Pans. What?” he replied, putting a healthy serving of shepherd’s pie on his plate.

“I asked why you’ve got your sights locked on to the Gryffindor table,” she said, flipping her long, dark hair over her shoulder. At Draco’s faint blush she said, “Oh no. Not you, too. And here I thought we had only lost Blaise.”

“Oh c’mon, Pansy,” Daphne Greengrass interjected, “Draco’s fancied Granger forever. Surely you picked up on that!”

Taken by surprise at this true, but surprising, turn of events, Draco began to cough, choking a bit on the pumpkin juice he had just taken a sip of. Pansy paid no notice, however, only answering Daphne, “Well of course I noticed, but he’s never been so carelessly obvious about it before.” Then turning to Draco she said, “You’re losing your Slytherin touch, love. That’s hardly subtle.”

“He made a move,” Blaise explained, ignoring Draco’s glare. “This summer, we spent a lot of time at the Burrow. I was getting close to a delightful, redheaded vixen. Draco was kissing arse, hoping that when a certain brunette returned from her travels she’d forgive him easier if her pseudo-family liked him.”

“You know damn well that’s not why I spent time at the Burrow this summer,” Draco told him, warning in his tone.

“Of course not, mate,” Blaise explained with an obnoxious smile on his face, “But that’s a bit less pathetic than the real reason, which is that you were lonely and had no choice but to follow around your only friend, making amends for all your shit decisions.”

Draco growled at Blaise, and turned his attention back to a certain Gryffindor, who was now being chatted up by that prat, Ernie Macmillan, from Hufflepuff. It seemed that Draco was going to have quite a bit of competition this year, but he wasn’t fussed. He knew in his gut that he and Granger were meant to be, and he had the luxury of close living proximity to prove that to her.

“So Draco,” Daphne asked, “are you and Granger dating, then?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. We’ve only really been speaking for just over a week. She spent the summer travelling.”

Pansy grimaced. “Your taste is questionable at best, Draco. I mean not only is she a mud- I mean, muggleborn,” she corrected at his glare, “but she’s all frizzy and scrawny. At least Blaise’s lion is goodlooking.”

“You’re just saying that about Granger cause you like birds with huge tits, Pans,” Blaise told her, intervening on Draco’s behalf. Pansy just shrugged, and went back to her roast chicken.

After dinner, McGonagall showed Hermione and Draco the way to their common room. On the first floor, across from the library, were four, large portraits-- the founders.

“Helga, Salazar, Godric, Rowena- these are the Head Students this year. This is Hermione Granger,” Hermione waved, “and this is Draco Malfoy.” McGonagall turned to her students. “To get into your common room, you’ll need to give Helga the password. Anyone can enter your rooms, as long as they have the password. The other three will only work for the two of you. Salazar opens a secret passage to the dungeons. Godric leads up to the charms corridor. Rowena will take you up to the corridor just outside my office. These passages will help you move around the castle a bit quicker, both for your classes and in the interest of helping your peers. Now, I think that will be all for tonight. I hope you’ll find your quarters to your liking. I’ll see you both in the morning.” She turned on her heel, and left them alone with the founders.

Chapter Text

Ch. 12- On Checking In

Hermione turned to Helga. “Umm, pardon me? Ms. Hufflepuff?”

The portrait smiled indulgently down at the young witch. “Yes, dear?”

“Headmistress McGonagall didn’t tell us the password to get in,” Hermione explained, worrying her bottom lip.

“That’s because you choose it yourselves, dear. Anytime you need to reset it, you both must be here and agree on what the new password is. Now then, what shall it be?” she asked, staring down at them with big, hazel eyes.

Hermione turned to Draco. “Any ideas?” she asked him.

“What about unity?” he offered, but she shook her head.

“That’s too easy to guess. We need something random, like turnip or bean sprout or something.”

“Hungry, Granger?” he asked, chuckling. She blushed. “Lyra?” he suggested.

“Lyra?” she asked.

“She’s my favorite, little constellation,” he answered with a shrug, and Hermione smiled at him, nodding.

“Lyra, it is then, dears,” Helga acknowledged, and swung open to admit them.

Draco indicated that Hermione should walk in first, and she gasped when she took in the sight. Their common room was brilliant. The sage walls were covered in slate-colored, built-in shelves, which were bursting with all manor of books, muggle and wizard alike. On the tops of the high shelves were various artifacts, like vases, a globe, and an armillary sphere. On the wall opposite the door was a large fireplace in river rock that went from floor to ceiling, with large bay windows on either side, surrounded still by those slate colored bookshelves. In front of the fireplace was a large, sage colored couch, bookended by two large maroon armchairs, and two end tables made of dark cherry wood. A rug in a floral pattern covered the wood floors. On the right wall, surrounded by the bookshelves, were two doors in the same dark wood as the end tables that Hermione supposed were their respective bedrooms. On the left side, the room opened into a small, eat-in kitchen, with a sturdy looking cherry wood table and chairs. She looked over to Draco, who seemed to be just as pleased as she was.

“Bedrooms, then?” he asked, indicating that they should open the closed doors. Hermione took the door on the right, and Draco went to the room on the left. They quickly realized their mistake and switched, as she’d opened the door into a silver and green room, and he’d gone into a red and gold one. She walked into her bedroom. It was a decent size with a large, four poster bed in the middle, a wardrobe on the far side facing her door, and a dresser and desk on the wall closest to her. She had a large window opposite her bed overlooking the forbidden forest. On the same wall as her bed was another door which she assumed went to her bathroom. Opening it, she found that she was partially correct-- it was certainly a loo, but it didn’t seem to be hers alone.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Draco joked, smiling at her. There was a double sink with a large mirror hanging over both sides, a toilet, shower, and in the center of the room was the most glorious thing Hermione had ever seen-- a large tub set into the floor. It was similar to the prefects bath, only half the size, but still large enough that four or five people could comfortably use it as a jacuzzi. Faucets surrounded two sides-- making ten in total-- and the bottom was a pearly, blue mosaic.

“You need to get out of here right now,” Hermione told him, seriously.

He laughed. “Why should I do that?”

“I intend to take a very long soak, right this instant, and I can’t very well do that with you here, Malfoy!” she told him in her bossiest voice.

“Oh, Malfoy am I, now?” he said, grinning. “I don’t see why I should take orders when you’re being all bossy and cheeky. Perhaps I wanted to use the bath.” He indicated his seriousness by pulling his shirt up over his head and chucking it in the direction of his bedroom door.

She couldn’t think when he was half-naked and smirking. Merlin, he’s beautiful. “Draco, please?” she asked, giving him her best attempt at puppy dog eyes. “You said you wanted to spoil me… now would be a lovely time to start.”

He mimed consideration, bringing his pointer finger up to his chin. “Tell you what,” he said, “what if we compromise? You go put on that muggle swimming costume that brings me unending amounts of joy, and I’ll put mine on as well.”

“Why should I agree to taking a bath, clothed, with you, when I can take a proper bath alone?” she asked, smirking at him. He’s cute when he’s trying to get his own way.

“I’ll throw in a massage,” he offered, using his most tempting tone of voice.

“Draco…” she warned, but he threw his hands up and donned an innocent expression.

“Nothing lascivious, I promise. I shall be a proper gentleman and only touch you in innocent ways. Nothing indecent.”

She eyed him. “Nothing improper? You promise?”

He nodded solemnly.

“Well… all right, I suppose. I’ll just go change, then,” she told him, laughing at the look of pure joy on his face at her agreement.

It took Hermione a moment to find her bikini, as she wasn’t quite used to where the elves had filed away her things. By the time she changed, she was beginning to have second thoughts. This feels a bit sensual. I’m no prude, but this hardly seems appropriate in keeping with the pureblood dating customs Draco must have grown up being indoctrinated with. She threw on a dressing gown and walked into the bathroom, where she saw Draco playing with the various taps. He looked up when he heard her come in, and gestured for her to pick the scents and bubbles she preferred. When she got the exact mixture she desired, she shed her outer layer, and slipped into the tub, Draco following her lead.

“I’m going to touch you now, all right? I don’t want to startle you,” he said, coming up behind her. At her nod, he lightly placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Draco?” she asked.

“Yes, love?” he replied, pressing his thumbs into the muscles in her shoulders.

“This can’t possibly be in line with any of the courting rules you were taught growing up,” she told him, indicating the tub.

He laughed. “I’m not attempting to win the favor of a pureblood, now am I?”

“So if I was pureblood we wouldn’t be doing this?” she inquired, growing worried that he thought of her as common and easy.

“No, but it’s not what you think. If you were pureblood, your family would take this as a marriage proposal. More than a marriage proposal. This would be seen as something that… I don’t know… impugns your honor, or whatever. There wouldn’t be anything casual about it. Make no mistake, I’m very much enjoying that you’re allowing me to touch you, but ultimately this is just a massage,” he explained.

“I see…” she answered.

“I’m doing a horrible job of explaining myself. I’m quite pleased to rid myself of those silly customs. It’s all a bit antiquated. Why can’t a bloke touch a girl he fancies, so long as she consents? This is all very innocent, right? I’m still being a gentleman, yeah?” She nodded, and he continued, “Exactly. But some pureblood girl wouldn’t see it like that. I like that I have that freedom with you. My feelings about you aren’t casual, but this is allowed to be. Purebloods place a lot of emphasis on… physical intimacy.”

“So… sex?” Hermione asked. She felt Draco falter for a moment at her candor, but then she felt him nod. “So you don’t want it to be a big deal, then?” she asked.

He sighed, and made to move around to face her. “Granger, are you a virgin?” She nodded. “As am I. Now, pureblood custom would have dictated that I go around dipping my wick in whatever I please, building skills so I can please my future pure-blooded wife, who would, of course, be a virgin. I never saw fit to do that, because frankly, you were the only witch I was ever interested in. That’s not to say that the way, say, Blaise lives his life is wrong… just wasn’t something I was particularly interested in. So,” he said, moving closer to her and grabbing both of her upper arms, “in the event that you do eventually decide you’d perhaps like to have sex with me, it will be a big deal. But not because you’re a virgin… just because you’re you. Does that make sense?”

She nodded at him, and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek, laughing at the lopsided smile that found its way to his face. He moved back around to continue his kneading of her neck. “For the record, Granger, I’m looking forward to breaking many pureblood courting rules with you, if you’ll let me,” he told her, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

The following morning, Hermione woke up early, determined to get down to the Great Hall without Draco distracting her. She brushed her teeth, pulled on a clean uniform and adjusted her shiny Head Girl pin, before grabbing her books and heading to breakfast. She sat down at the mostly-empty Gryffindor table and pulled out her book, waiting for the new head of house to hand out the Gryffindor timetables. The hall filled and then emptied, and still Hermione didn’t have her class list, but she didn’t notice until McGonagall cleared her throat that the only people still sitting were the eighth year students.

“You’ll notice that none of you have timetables. While I certainly intend to get to that, I wanted the opportunity to address you all together. There will be several privileges that you all can enjoy, but there will also be several expectations of you as well. First, there will be no curfew for eighth year students. I ask that you not abuse this and set an example for the younger students, however if you’d really like to take a stroll around the Black Lake at four in the morning, I won’t stop you. You’ll also be allowed to go into Hogsmeade on all weekends,not just designated ones. The castle has also seen fit to give you all your own lounge. It’s not password protected, as it has special wards around it that won’t admit anyone younger than eighth year. This common space is available to all of you, whenever you’d like, and has a fireplace in it that is connected to the floo network. If you abuse this luxury, I have no issue in taking it away. Please remember that, above all, you are still students, and as such, my responsibility.” She levelled them all with a look, as if daring them to challenge her. When no one did, she continued her speech.

“We ask that each of you tutor in a subject- prefects will continue general tutoring, but we’d like for each of you to lead a focused session for any students struggling in specific subject areas. Though we’ve never done this before, we’re hoping that it will serve a dual purpose; helping younger students catch up with what they missed out on last year, and giving you all additional preparation for masteries, should you choose to complete those when your time here is finished. In front of you,” she flicked her wand and a piece of parchment appeared in front of all of them, “you will see a piece of parchment. Please list your top three choices for subjects to tutor in. I will do my best to ensure that you all are assigned a subject that you have listed, provided you are proficient enough in it to be of assistance. Please take a moment to make your lists, then bring them up here to receive your time tables. You might find that your schedules are unique- that is merely because there are so few of you. Classes will be smaller, possibly at odd hours or in strange classrooms, and will likely be more practical in nature. You’ll have to forgive us, but Hogwarts hasn’t ever seen eighth years before, so we’re doing our best to accommodate you however we can.”

Hermione immediately wrote down her top three choices- she didn’t have to think about it. 1. Ancient Runes 2. Arithmancy 3. Transfiguration. She got up to take the Headmistress her list, smiling when she saw that Draco’s decision was made just as quickly, as he was the only other person not still considering it. She met him in the center, and they walked to McGonagall together.

“What did you list?” she asked.

“Potions, Arithmancy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. You?”

“Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Transfiguration,” she replied.

“Swot,” he said, though the amused smile on his face let her know that this was meant to be a term of endearment.

“Defense, huh?” she asked, and he nodded.

“You get good at defending against the Dark Arts when you live with Him… I figure I might as well use it for something,” he told her as they approached their Headmistress. She handed them both their timetables and indicated that they should sit at the Hufflepuff table directly in front of her. Slowly the other students gave McGonagall their selections, and the end of the Hufflepuff table filled up.

“Now then, let me explain your timetables. Advanced sections have been created for every subject, and those will be considered eighth-year-only courses. Those of you that don’t elect to take any of those advanced sections will be sharing courses with seventh years. In addition to these advanced courses, we’ve also added two courses for eighth years only-- alchemy and magical theory. While magical theory will take the place of an advanced charms, alchemy is, as I’m sure you’re all aware, a unique branch of magic, and as such, has independent instruction. You have all been placed in courses that we felt best suited your particular strengths and interests, however if you wish to make any additions or cancellations, please see me after this meeting. No student will be permitted to take more than six advanced courses. That includes magical theory and alchemy. You can, however, take six advanced courses and additional seventh year courses, though that is certainly not recommended. Finally, no version of Defense will be offered to eighth years-- you’ve all fought in a war. You’ve had enough Defense. We feel that it’s best to focus our efforts on broadening other aspects of your magical understandings.”

She gave them a firm nod, then dismissed them with a flick of her hands. Hermione and Draco headed towards their common room, comparing timetables.

“Of course they’ve put you in six advanced courses, plus seventh year Herbology. I reckon they put that rule in place for you, Granger,” Draco said, studying her listing.

“Oh please, Draco, you don’t fool me. You’re almost as much of a swot as I am- they’ve got you down for five advanced courses. We basically have the same schedule, except I’ve got Magical Theory and Advanced Runes, and you’ve got Advanced Herbology… Advanced Herbology? Really, Draco?”

He shrugged. “Plants are important for potions. I like potions. I’m no Longbottom or anything, but I still think it’s necessary.” At her smirk he got defensive. “What?” he questioned.

“Nothing. You’re just quite cute when you’re swotty,” she told him, and his pout turned to a seductive smile.

“Like my swottiness, do you? Does it make you randy when I talk about books, Granger?” he crooned into her ear, making her blush from his sultry tone of voice and from the smell of his expensive cologne.

Two can play this game, she thought. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her, but when he went for her lips, she turned her head and whispered into his ear, “Maybe it does.” Then she unwrapped herself from around him and walked away.

Draco watched her walk away from him, no doubt swinging her hips more than she normally would knowing she had an audience. Little minx, he decided, chasing after her.

Chapter Text

Ch. 13- On First Dates

The rest of the first week passed by quickly. Ginny rolled her eyes when Hermione excitedly told her about all the advanced classes she'd been put in and begged for more information when Hermione told her about Draco's massage the first night back. Blaise had surprised everyone, taking his tutoring sessions quite seriously and developing a curriculum for his Charms sessions that impressed even McGonagall. Hermione had spent the majority of her free time reading, though that didn't stop Ginny and Luna from stopping by her common room to force her to socialize with them. Though Hermione insisted that "we've only been here three days", her friends were determined not to let her study herself into a stupor.

Saturday morning found Draco at the first quidditch practice of the year. Though eighth years couldn't be on house teams, they had formed their own team. The headmistress had said that they could scrimmage the house teams and that after the House Cup they could play the winner. Though there weren't exactly stakes, the eighth years still took practice seriously and had organized a team. Draco would play Seeker, while Blaise, Dean, and Susan Bones played Chaser. Seamus and Terry Boot made a surprisingly impressive team as Beaters, and Lisa Turpin was a wonderful addition as Keeper. Early morning practice meant that the team could still make a late breakfast afterwards, but Draco decided to forgo eating in the interest of showering. The refrigerator in their common room had all manner of foods in it, and he thought perhaps if he was really persuasive, he could convince Hermione to make him something instead.

Whistling as he climbed the hill back to the castle, Draco reflected on his first few days of classes. His fellow eighth years weren't especially warm, but were cordial enough, and he had a feeling Hermione had been behind a bit of that. She and Blaise stuck close to him in halls, except for when he went to Advanced Herbology where he'd found an unlikely buffer in Neville. He'd meant what he'd said to the prefects about atoning for his past actions- he'd spoken to Dean after Alchemy on the first day of classes, and at breakfast on Thursday sought out a third year Hufflepuff he'd been forced by the Carrows to use the Cruciatus on. While he knew the peace wouldn't last, and he was bound to deal with his fair share of ridicule, for the time being he was enjoying it.

Entering their common room, he found Hermione reading in one of the window seats, but had to do a double take when he realized what she was wearing: a matching set of an emerald green silk camisole and tiny pyjama shorts, trimmed in black lace.

"Granger?" he asked, finding his voice a bit shaky.

She turned to him, appreciatively taking in how he looked in his quidditch kit. "Good morning! How was practice?"

"Granger, what in the name of Morgana are you wearing?" he asked, ignoring her question completely. She put a marker in her book, then set it down and walked over to him. If he had thought the get up was nice when she was sitting in the morning light of the window, it was even better up close. The silky material hugged her curves and bunched as she walked. The movement of her chest as she moved towards him let him know that she was absolutely not wearing a bra, and he wondered if that meant she wasn't wearing knickers, either. Get a hold of yourself, man! She's just a girl!

"Pyjamas, Draco," she answered him. "I woke up late today and didn't go down to breakfast. I didn't realize that this would offend your high class, pureblood sensibilities… I can go change?" She giggled when he vehemently shook his head.

"Absolutely not. Don't change. Actually, don't ever change. I think you should wear this, and only this, for the rest of your life," he told her, openly staring at this point. "In fact," he said when she giggled, letting him know he wasn't in trouble for being a pig, "would you give me a little twirl?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes, but turned all the same, and blushed bright pink when he applauded her spin. "You're ridiculous. You know that, don't you?" she told him, putting her hands on her hips in that bossy way that he loved. "And, as much as I admire you in this," she said, indicating his uniform clad body, "you stink. Go take a shower," she told him, taking a step back.

"You're being quite rude, you know? You've hurt my feelings," he said in a melodramatic way, clutching his heart and sticking out his bottom lip.

"I suppose I am being rude. How can I make it up to you, then?" she asked.

"How about a kiss?" he asked, left eyebrow raised. She shook her head at him, laughing, and he breathed out a sigh. "Ah, well. I suppose I would settle for breakfast," he told her.

"You go shower, then, and I'll have breakfast ready when you come out," she ordered, bending over to reach into the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. She must know she's giving me the most impressive view of her backside. How would she not, the little tease.

"All right then, love. Whatever you'd like. Pay attention, now. I'm leaving the room and you'll have a wonderful view of my bum," he drawled, smirking at her over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes, but watched him leave, nonetheless.

"Granger," he told her, "have I told you before that you're a divine cook?"

Hermione had been busy admiring the way his wet hair fell in his beautiful eyes- she wanted to run her hands through it. "You haven't," she replied, "but thank you."

"So," he started, sitting down his toast on his plate and smirking at her, "I have to ask. Is this one of those lacy things you mentioned a couple days ago?"

She laughed and shrugged, letting him make up his own mind. She stood up and moved to put her own plate in the sink, then crossed to the couch, settling in with her book. Draco ate the last bites of his breakfast, watching her as she read. He admired the adorable way she scrunched her little nose in concentration and how her eyebrows shot up when she read something surprising. She has completely bewitched me, he thought, bemused. It hadn't quite been two weeks since they'd started over and already he couldn't imagine a life where he didn't get to see her everyday.

He put his own dishes in the sink, then crossed the room to sit on the couch with her. He pulled her feet into his lap, surprised when she let him without argument or hesitation. He squeezed the heel of her right foot, and she let out a little unconscious moan that made him smile and woke up a part of his anatomy that had been on red alert since he'd spotted her in the window in her silky pyjamas.

"Granger?" he asked some minutes into her impromptu foot massage.

"Yes?" she answered, setting her book down on her chest to make eye contact with him.

"Would you consider going somewhere with me tonight?" he inquired, hopefully.

"Going somewhere?" she clarified.

"Like a date," he supplied.

"Yes…" she said, hesitantly. "I would consider going on something like a date with you tonight."

He rolled his eyes. "Granger, you're not making my life easy. Will you, or won't you, go out on a date with me tonight?"

She laughed. "So snippy! That's how all girls like to be asked out, you know."

"Granger…" he groaned.

"Oh yes, all right, fine," she told him, retracting her feet from his grasp.

"Brilliant," he told her, with a smile. "Dinner? At half six?"

She nodded, and he gave her one of those rare, wide smiles of his that reflected just how happy he was. She got up and crossed the room, grabbing her wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" she called, and a ghostly, otter sow appeared from a puff of smoke. Draco saw Hermione's lips moving, but couldn't make out what she was saying to it before it was gone.

"What was that?" he asked, confused, watching as the little, smoky animal disappeared.

She shrugged. "It's a way of delivering messages that Dumbledore created for the Order. Can you make a patronus?"

He shook his head. "They say Death Eaters can't do it," he told her, sadly.

"Well, it's a good thing you're not a Death Eater, then, isn't it?" she responded with a smile.

"I've got the Mark, Granger. Personal feelings aside, I'll always carry his brand."

"I don't care what's on your arm, Draco… I know what's in your heart. I think you can do it," she said, coming to sit beside him. Then, quieter, she confided, "Snape could do it."

Draco looked up, surprised. Staring into those beautiful brown eyes of hers, he'd believe anything she said.

"I can teach you," she assured him. "Harry taught me. I'd… like to be the one to teach you."

He nodded, and she reached over to give him a hug. He was comforted by her warmth, and appreciated her proximity on a purely male level. Definitely not wearing a bra, he thought smugly. He had just buried his nose in the fragrant skin of her neck, breathing in her vanilla and gardenia scent, when there was knock on their common room door.

"That'd be Ginny," she guessed, pulling away from him and padding over to the door.

"I hardly ever see you anymore, Malfoy!" Ginny exclaimed, pushing her way through the portrait hole. "This one shows up and suddenly I'm yesterday's Prophet."

"You know I could never forget you, Red," Draco said, turning around to smile at her.

"With her running around in her night things it's no wonder you've forgotten about me," Ginny pointed out, winking at Draco, who laughed while Hermione turned bright red.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, Red?" Draco asked, getting up to walk into the kitchen.

"Word on the street is you've got a hot date tonight," she explained conversationally, as though Hermione weren't standing right beside her. "Naturally, I'm here to help this one get ready."

Draco looked at his watch and exclaimed, "It's barely one o'clock! You need five and a half hours to get ready?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't, but she insists that I do."

"I quite like her the way she is, Red. In fact, if I had my way she'd stay in that," he indicated Hermione's pyjamas, "all night."

Ginny laughed. "I'm sure you would like that. Don't worry, she'll look even better when I'm through. We don't need that long to get ready, of course, but there's the necessary feminine preparation. An hour to rifle through Witch Weekly and talk about clothing, an hour to rank your best features... you know, the usual," she flippantly cajoled, pushing a giggling Hermione in the direction of her bedroom.

"I'd rather like to be around for that conversation!" Draco called after them, but Ginny poked her head out of Hermione's room.

"Not a chance. Now, be a good ferret and run off and visit Blaise," she bossed, closing the bedroom door.

At 6:30 on the nose, Draco knocked on Hermione's bedroom door. He had decided on an upscale restaurant in muggle London, knowing that they would be free from the scrutiny of their world- he wanted their first date to go off with as few hitches as possible. He'd chosen a simple charcoal suit, white shirt and pocket square, and plain black loafers- though he was nervous about going without a necktie, he'd seen the look on a football player in one of Hermione's muggle magazines and thought she might approve.

When Hermione's door opened, Draco's heart began to race, but he was instantly disappointed when Ginny came through the door.

"What're you doing, Red?" Draco grumbled, not even bothering to hide his frustration.

She smirked at him. "I didn't want to miss your expression when Hermione comes out here."

He shook his head. "Oh, no you don't. You've done enough. We'll take it from here," he told her, pushing her out the portrait hole door.

"Ungrateful ferret," he heard Ginny grouse when he had successfully pushed her all the way out of their common room. He knew she couldn't be too upset- she was more than capable of hexing him to pieces if she wanted to.

Draco rested his forehead on the back of the common room door and let out a loud sigh. He knew that being with Hermione meant interacting with all the people in her life… but dammit if he didn't want her to himself. Reformed Death Eater or not, I'm still a bit of a selfish bastard, he thought to himself with a dark chuckle. At the sound of a throat clearing, he whipped around to see Hermione standing in her doorway.

In a simple black dress- form fitting and sleeveless- she looked lovely. She had on simple black pumps that added some height to her short stature, though Draco was pretty confident that she still wouldn't be any taller than his chin. He was a little confused, though, when he made his way up her (rather enticing) body to her (beautiful) face. A curtain of long, sleek hair hung around her heart shaped face and down her back, hanging down to her bum.

"Your hair…" he said, taken a bit off guard and coming to examine her closer.

"Ginny. She used practically a whole bottle of Sleekeazy's," she explained, tossing her newly straightened locks over her shoulder. Then, examining his face a little longer she asked, "you don't like it?"

"I mean, I suppose it's nice." At her downcast look, he backtracked, "No no no, Granger! Not like that! Hell, you always look bloody gorgeous. It's just... not you. You don't look like my Granger. You're not you without the mess of curls springing every which way. I love your hair."

She smirked at him. "Your Granger? Pretty presumptive, don't you think?"

"You know what I mean. The Granger I'm used to," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "Of course, you look lovely, and if you like it this way, I'll certainly get used to it, because it's on your head and therefore your decision… but I just want to go on the record in saying that I think your curls are brilliant, as well."

"Well," she said with a smile, "now that you've talked yourself out of that hole, why don't you tell me where we're going."

He shook his head. "I'd like to restart, if you please."

She laughed as he pushed her back to her bedroom. "Draco, what are you doing?"

"Restarting. No Red, no putting my foot in my mouth…" he explained, shutting the bedroom door, and then immediately knocking on it.

He could hear her giggling as she opened the door. "Oh hello, Draco. A bit late, aren't you?"

He smirked. "Yes, well, I would have been here on time but I had to stop and make an arse of myself first. Now then," he shot her an appreciative glance, "you look lovely, Granger."

She laughed. "Thank you. You look quite nice as well. Where is it that you're taking me?"

"Muggle restaurant. I figured we'd have a bit more privacy that way," he explained, offering her his arm. She slid hers through it and they made their way to the floo in the eighth-year common room.

Draco led Hermione out of the Leaky Cauldron and into muggle London. He pulled her into a secluded alley, and took a moment to appreciate her softness when he pulled her in to him, close, before apparating them across town. They walked, her hand on his arm, down the streets of London. Hermione wasn't sure where they were going, but Draco seemed very sure of himself, and so she let him pull her along while they discussed the theory presented in Miller's newest book of experimental they finally arrived outside a brick building with a wrought iron fence and many colored flowers, Draco stopped.

"Le Gavroche?" Hermione asked, dumbfounded. Draco nodded. "Draco, you can't possibly be serious."

He gave her a confused look. "Why not? I've only read nice things. Don't tell me you don't like it here?"

"Draco! Do you have any idea how expensive this place is? How did you even get a reservation?" she asked, throwing her arms out in annoyance and then placing them bossily on her hips.

"Granger, you fail to understand what 'Malfoy money' means. I'm not sure if we've discussed it before, but I'm wealthy. Exceptionally so. Positively filthy rich, if I'm being honest." He smirked. "Seriously, love, this isn't a problem. I have money. Let me spend it on you."

She looked up at him with big, nervous eyes. "Draco, this just seems so… unnecessary. You hardly need to do this to impress me. You planned a date in the muggle world. That's impressive enough on it's own."

"Granger... I didn't bring you here to impress you. I brought you here because I've read that it's nice and you're a nice girl. You deserve nice things. Let me give you nice things."

She hesitantly nodded, and he held out his arm again for her to take and led her inside. They were promptly seated, and after Draco had a brief, hushed conversation with a gentleman in the front of the restaurant, a bottle of wine was brought to the table.

"Draco," Hermione inquired, leaning in a bit closer to him and dropping her voice, "you seem to be quite at ease here for someone who hasn't spent any time in the muggle world..."

He blushed. "I asked Potter for a bit of advice."

"Oh?" she inquired, smirking.

"Let's drop this line of questioning. You'll make me blush and ruin the reputation I've worked so hard to cultivate."

"You can pretend all you want, Draco Malfoy… there's quite a lot of good in you."

"Is there?" he asked nonchalantly, but she could see the desperation in his silver eyes.

She nodded. "I wouldn't be here if there wasn't."

Their waiter came and asked for their orders. Hermione decided on a grilled scallop dish while Draco ordered salmon.

"So… how does this compare to places you're used to?" she asked, sipping her wine.

"It's actually quite similar to a place we visit in France. We never dined out all that often, to be honest. My father did, of course, for business, but most of my meals were at the manor," he explained.

"I see. Were eight-course feasts quite common, then?" she joked.

"Only for gatherings; dinner parties, benefits, galas, that sort of thing. Otherwise, just three courses," he told her flippantly, as though everyone was used to having balls hosted in their childhood home.

"Draco, you're serious?" she asked, stunned. He nodded. "Sometimes I forget how different our upbringings were," she told him, shuffling uneasily.

"Yes, well, you got the better end of the bargain as far as I'm concerned. I don't intend to make my children go through such nonsense," he told her, getting suddenly a bit cross.

"You think about your future children a lot, then?" she asked, smiling.

"Don't laugh at me, Granger," he grumbled. "I like kids. So what? They're not as judgmental… more forgiving."

"I've seen you with Teddy. You're good with him. You'll be a wonderful father someday," she told him reassuringly, grabbing his right hand in both of hers.

"I just… want to do everything the opposite of how it was done for me. No strict pureblood rules, no expectations of being little ladies and gentlemen… they'll mind, of course, but they won't be little adults," he excitedly explained, and she could tell he really had given this quite a bit of thought.

"I see. And how many of them will there be?" she asked, smiling and indulging him.

"Oh, I don't care. More than one… it's lonely growing up without siblings. But outside of that I don't care how many there are. I'd be just as happy with two as I would be with ten." She laughed, and he realized how animated he had become. He quickly schooled his features into something a bit more indifferent.

"Why do you do that?" she asked. He gave her a questioning look. "Wear that… that mask. It's like you turn off your emotions. It's okay to be happy or sad or excited, Draco."

He barked out a forced laugh. "Lucius would disagree. He quite disapproves of displays of emotion," he remarked snarkily.

"Yes, well, something tells me that wouldn't be his biggest issue with this situation, would it?" she asked, gesturing to herself.

"I suppose it wouldn't. Still, it's hard to behave in the opposite way of what you've been taught your whole life," he told her.

"Yes, well… that's why we're rewriting Draco's story, isn't it?" she said with a small smile.

"Are we talking about the constellation, Granger?"

Her reply was a smirk and a long drink of her wine. Their food arrived and it was absolutely heavenly. Draco explained to Hermione how to taste each aspect of the different courses to truly appreciate the flavor. Clearly his palate has been refined over years of meals like this, she thought, as he described wine pairings. After three fantastic courses, including a life changing Apricot & Cointreau Souffle, Draco paid the bill, and they headed back out to the street.

"Fancy a walk around Grosvenor Square?" he asked, and she nodded. He offered his arm, but she took his hand instead, and the two walked silently for bit, hand in hand. Draco couldn't remember when he'd ever been so content.

"So…" Hermione finally broke their comfortable silence.

"So?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"We should talk about patronus lessons," she replied.

"Must we?" he asked, and at her excited nod he sighed. "Very well."

"You have quidditch on Saturdays, we have rounds on Tuesdays, Wednesday evenings are prefect meetings, you tutor on Mondays, and I tutor on Thursdays… that leaves us with Friday. Or, I suppose, Sunday afternoon," she rattled off quickly, making his head spin.

"Granger, we live together. Is it really necessary to set aside specific times for this?" he asked, but she nodded emphatically.

"Oh yes. You see, if I don't set aside times, you'll continually put it off," she explained, smiling up at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Sunday it is, then," he decided.

"Wonderful! We'll start tomorrow," she confirmed, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

After some time chatting and joking around, Hermione yawned, and Draco took that as his cue to get them back to the castle. They found a private alley and then Draco apparated them straight to Hogsmeade. They walked back up to the castle, still hand in hand, and then back to their common room. When they reached Hermione's door, she let him pull her in close to him.

"Thank you for a wonderful night, Mr. Malfoy. Who knew you could be so very charming?" she said with a smirk.

"I told you, Granger, I'm a very charming bloke, when I want to be," he explained, then leaned down close to her ear and purred. "And you make me want to be quite charming indeed." She felt a bit weak in the knees at the seductive tone of his voice as he leaned down to place a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek. "I'll let you get some rest, now," he told her, a bit more conversationally, though still soft. "Goodnight, Granger. Thank you for accompanying me this evening." She blinked, and he was gone, his bedroom door shutting behind him.

Chapter Text

Ch. 14- On Birthdays

Draco couldn't have been any more thrilled that September 19th fell on a Saturday. He'd had the brilliant idea, the Wednesday after their first date, to secretly throw Hermione a gathering at the Hogs Head, enlisting Ginny's help to ensure that everyone she loved would be present. He'd gone over and over preparations in secret, making sure that the little brunette didn't get wind of anything he was doing. In truth, it wasn't that difficult, as Professor Flitwick had assigned a three foot long parchment for Magical Theory. Though it wasn't due for two weeks, she had immediately let it consume her focus, writing and rewriting it all week. He was a bit sad that he had hardly seen her, and when he had it was only during prefect meetings or when they revised together, but he knew that school would always be immensely important to his witch and he felt he ought to get used to that.

On the Saturday in question, Draco quietly excused himself from the quidditch practice Hermione assumed he was attending and trod down to Hogsmeade. He was wearing his quidditch kit so he didn't arouse Hermione's suspicions, as she would likely be awake and in their common room by the time he was back to the castle. The last two weeks she had made a lovely show of parading around their common room in her lacy, little pyjamas as she read and tidied up, and he hoped today would be no exception. After going over the plans with Aberforth for (what the man assured the younger wizard was) the hundredth time, Draco made a few quick stops. He still wasn't all that welcome in Hogsmeade, but unlike the open hatred and ridicule he typically endured in Diagon Alley, he was typically avoided outright in Hogsmeade, which he certainly preferred. Timing his excursion perfectly, he headed back to the castle just as the other eighth years were finishing their practice. He was feeling exceptionally proud of himself. Now, all he had to do was get Granger there.

Entering their common room, he only briefly searched for the object of his affection, knowing exactly where she'd be. He wasn't disappointed. Basking in the light pouring in, she sat in the window seat, nose in a book, wearing a deep maroon pyjama set trimmed in white. He leaned in the doorway and studied her for a moment, a smile on his face-- she was so beautiful, and so completely oblivious to the world around her when she was reading. He could parade around starkers singing that song about the muggle queen and she wouldn't even turn her head. He glided, quickly and quietly, over to the window where she was sitting.

"Good morning, birthday girl!" he exclaimed, leaning over her shoulder to peek at what she was reading. She peered up at him with a big smile, her beautiful eyes sparkling with happiness. Happiness, he thought, she's happy to see me. This realisation made him smile wide as well, and they sat there for a moment, grinning stupidly at each other. Finally, Hermione broke the moment.

"What's that wonderful smell?" she asked.

"I went to Hogsmeade after practice and brought some things from Madam Puddifoot's. I'm not much of a chef, of course, but I figured you hadn't eaten yet as you usually stay up here on Saturday mornings," Draco explained, with a self-satisfied little smile, proud of himself for being so clever.

She gave him another wide smile, and a quick peck on the cheek, then snatched the bag from his hand. He grabbed some plates, silently thanking Merlin that he had the foresight to shrink his other parcels down and stuff them in his pocket, as she clearly had no qualms about taking things out of his hands. They sorted out the various still-warm cakes and pastries Draco had brought back- "Honestly, Draco, who did you think was going to eat all of this? There's two of us!"- and Draco rifled through the refrigerator looking for juice, while Hermione made them both some tea. Then, the two settled down at their little table.

When they were finished eating the majority of what Draco had brought back- "See? I told you, Granger. I'm always right."- he cleared the table while she picked her book back up, sitting in afternoon light of the window.

"So, Granger," Draco started, trying his best to come off as casual, "I was hoping you might let me take you out for a birthday dinner? Tonight?"

"You've just given me a birthday breakfast, Draco! You can't just hog the birthday girl all day," she told him, smirking.

"Bratty, little thing, aren't you?" he joked, pulling a kitchen chair over to where Hermione was sitting in the window and dropping himself on to it backwards, resting his arms on the high back. "It's been two weeks since we've gone out, Granger. You've been so preoccupied with that blasted Magical Theory essay, I've hardly seen you. Let me take you out tonight? You can make it up to your friends tomorrow." He gave her a roguish smile, flipping the fringe out of his eyes.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, very well. Do I need to look elegant and refined? Have you found another excessively expensive muggle place? Perhaps you've found the first restaurant with four Michelin stars?"

He laughed. "I understand by that delightfully sarcastic tone of yours that you're being bossy and snarky, but you should know I haven't any idea what Michelin stars are. You," he continued, getting up from his chair and tucking it back into the table, "should wear whatever makes you happy, as I like seeing that lovely smile on your face. I'll pick you up at 6:30? We'll walk down to Hogsmeade and floo out of the Hogs Head, yeah?" She nodded, and he got up, strolling across their common space to his bedroom, slowly, as he was quite sure Hermione had her eyes on his bum.

Hermione had decided to forgo Ginny's help, for once, and got herself ready. She took a long bubble bath, making sure that Draco's door was locked, and used a face mask she had purchased that summer at a market in India- it smelled like flowers and made her skin feel silky and smooth. It was her birthday, and she was determined to pamper herself. She soaked in the gardenia scented bubbles, using her vanilla and pear shampoo and soap, feeling a bit like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, sans the Prince song.

Getting out of the bath, she wrapped a fluffy, white towel around herself, and headed for her bedroom. She lotioned herself, and painted her nails in a bright purple color she was rather sure she had borrowed from Luna, before spelling her hair dry and putting a bit of Ginny's potion in it to tame her bushy mess into springy curls. She stood, still wrapped in her towel, in front of her wardrobe for a long time, trying to decide what to wear. Draco had told her to wear what made her happy, which hadn't indicated his plans for the evening at all. She could hardly wear a sporty jumper if they were going somewhere like La Gavroche, but she didn't want to look overdressed and silly, either.

In the end, she settled on a nice blue sundress and simple, open-toed flats. The dress came to just above her knee and had a scoop neckline, showing a bit of cleavage and making her feel flirty and feminine, but still appropriate. She'd opted to leave her hair down, trying not to fuss with it too much as it really had a mind of its own. She heard Draco's knock on her door, just as she was slipping simple, gold hoops in her ears.

Draco always looked quite nice, but in muggle clothes he made her swoon. The dark denims she found him in were just as tantalizing, in her opinion, as the suits he was so fond of. He was wearing a simple button down shirt in a lovely shade of emerald that made his hair look icy and his silver eyes shine.

"You look lovely, birthday girl," he said with a smile, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"This is all right?" she asked, gesturing to her outfit.

"I mean," he started, bringing his fingers to his chin, "I can always do with a bit less clothing from you, of course, but as we're going out in public, I think this will do nicely." He gave her a wink and a charming smile, offering her his arm.

They walked down to Hogsmeade, chatting about their most recent alchemy lesson. The subject had quickly become a favorite for both of them, combining elements of potions, transfiguration, charms, and even a bit of runes. They were reading a book that was rumored to have been written by Mary the Jewess, and both students found it wildly fascinating. They were so caught up in conversation that when they reached the door to the Hogs Head, Draco had almost forgotten what was on the other side. He caught himself and opened the door, ushering Hermione to go in front of him.

"Surprise!" she heard from a shockingly large crowd. Everywhere she looked were faces she loved: old D.A. members, people from the Order, fellow students, and professors. She was so taken aback by the outpouring of love, she couldn't even register what was happening as Neville pulled her into the room, and George thrust a drink in her hand. Draco watched on by the door, smiling to himself at the happy tears he could see collecting in her eyes.

Hermione was the woman of the hour- it seemed that everyone wanted a bit of her time. McGonagall had given special permission to a few seventh year students to join them past curfew, and all of the eighth years were there, including the Slytherins. She watched as Ron snuck off with Luna when they thought no one was looking, and openly cried when Harry gave a toast calling her his sister. She wasn't sure she'd ever been hugged so much in her life. She spied Aberforth chatting up the headmistress, who was blushing, to Hermione's shock. Also, to her surprise, Oliver Wood had asked if she'd like to go out with him, but when she explained that she was sort of seeing someone, he smiled and quickly set his sights on Cho, newly hired seeker for the Falmouth Falcons.

Draco, for his part, left Hermione to her admirers. He chatted with Blaise and Ginny, had one too many drinks with George, and took Teddy off of Andromeda's hands for the better part of the night. He'd kept an eye on his little witch, and she seemed to be happy- the happiest he had ever seen her. She joked with Neville, and chatted happily with Angelina Johnson and Mrs. Weasley. He'd gotten a bit tense when he overheard Oliver Wood asking her to dinner, but when she told the older wizard she'd been seeing someone, his heart soared.

"You did well, mate," Blaise said, coming to stand beside Draco, who was leaning against the bar nursing a gillywater.

Draco gave his friend a nod, still looking in Hermione's direction. "She seems happy, doesn't she?"

"She does," Blaise agreed, watching the delight painted across the face of his oldest friend.

"Are you happy?" Ginny asked, pressing a glass of pumpkin juice into Hermione's hand.

The brunette nodded emphatically. "It's been awhile since I've been this happy, Gin," she explained, taking a drink from the glass. "I do have to ask, though," she said, pulling Ginny down into a booth beside her, "why the Hogs Head? I mean, I'm certainly not upset by it, but isn't the Three Broomsticks a bit larger?"

Ginny leaned in to speak in a softer tone of voice. "Draco planned all this, and I don't think he's quite on good terms with Rosmerta yet."

Hermione's eyes doubled in size. "Draco planned this?"

Ginny nodded. "Every last detail. Asked for my help in getting people here, of course, from the D.A. and the Order… but he did everything." At Hermione's shocked expression, Ginny continued, "He's got it bad for you, 'Mione. I know what I said before, but… don't make him wait forever."

Hermione looked over to where Draco was leaning against the bar, talking with Blaise. She'd noticed him all night, casually keeping an eye on her wherever she was. They had made eye contact once or twice, and he'd wink at her, but otherwise he'd given her space to mingle with everyone else. I can't believe he put all of this together. She watched as he threw his head back, laughing heartily at something Aberforth said. Neville and Harry had joined them, and the boys all seemed to be huddled together, discussing something intently. She took a minute to admire him- his strong jawline, beautiful eyes, and broad shoulders. No one would ever have thought him capable of being so selfless, she thought with a small smile. He looked over then, and they met eyes. He gave her his standard wink, and she wiggled her fingers at him in a small 'hello' that made him smile, before he turned back to the group of boys who appeared to be caught up in a drinking contest.

"So," Hermione started, as Draco walked her back up to the castle. It was almost midnight, and everything was dark and peaceful. "A little bird told me you organized that whole thing?"

He shrugged. "It's nothing," he told her with a small smile.

She smiled back and grabbed his hand in hers, telling him, "Well, it was quite the second date. I don't know how you'll ever top it, actually."

He laughed. "The night isn't quite finished. I still need to give you your birthday present."

"Draco," she admonished, "that party was more than enough. Really, I can't accept anything."

He rolled his eyes. "Granger, you're being annoying. You will accept my gift because it's your birthday and that's polite."

She laughed. "Ever the gentleman," she said, swinging their joined hands back and forth.

"I heard you tell Wood you're seeing someone," he said, voice much softer than it had been before.

She stopped, turning to look up at him. "Yes, well… I am, aren't I? Are you going around planning surprise parties for other girls?"

He shook his head with a smile. "Does that mean you'll be mine?" he asked, still in that quiet, hopeful tone.

She studied him for a minute, looking up into those beautiful silver eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness all around them. She sighed, knowing her next words would cloud those stunning eyes with hurt. "Draco… it's not even been a month since I've been back. I think… we should still wait before putting any labels on… whatever this is."

He gave her a long, hard look, then nodded. With a long, drawn-out sigh he began to talk again. "As I've said from the beginning, Granger, it's whatever you want."

"Please don't be cross, Draco," she pleaded, pulling him again by their joined hands, making him stand beside her.

He gave her a small smile. "I'm not cross. Disappointed, perhaps, but… you're right. It's not been that long. And you're certainly worth the wait."

She gave him a brilliant smile and continued their walk back to the castle.

When they got back to their common room, Draco escorted Hermione to the sofa, instructing her to sit there while he went to retrieve her present. She rolled her eyes but did as he asked.

Expecting to see a small parcel in the shape of a book, as people always gave her books for her ever growing library, she was quite surprised to see that Draco brought her a rather large, heavy-looking box wrapped in yellow paper. He set it down in front of her, and looked at her with wide, excited eyes.

"Go on then, Granger! Open it," he instructed with an excited grin, sitting beside her and watching her reactions carefully. She slowly pulled the paper off the box, and he snorted at her. "Granger, there's no need to be so delicate," he told her. She continued to take her time opening the package, sticking her tongue out at him. When she opened the flaps of the box and peered inside, she had to admit she was a bit confused.

It was a beautiful, old typewriter-- black and a bit rusted, with well-worn keys and the words "Smith Premier Typewriter" across the top in gold, block letters. She turned to Draco. "Draco, this typewriter is lovely, but I'm afraid I don't understand…"

"Do you remember that day at the Burrow, right when we first started getting to know each other, when we talked for hours about our favorite books while the others played Quidditch?" he asked, and she nodded. "You told me that your favorite book is The Wizard of Oz…" he continued, and again, she nodded. "This is L. Frank Baum's typewriter. It's what he used to write the original manuscript of The Wizard of Oz."

Hermione's hand flew up to cover her mouth, which had fallen open in shock. She was speechless. "Draco… this is…" she shook her head, not even capable of forming words. "This is incredible. I don't even know what to say."

"I know you've got a hard on for books, Granger… but I figure you receive quite a lot of those. I wanted to get you something else. Something a bit different," he told her, taking her hands in his, a wide smile across his face.

She turned back to her beautiful typewriter- the most thoughtful and sensational gift she'd ever received. "Draco, I can't accept this. I can't imagine what it cost you. It's worth a fortune… it belongs in a museum for Godric's sake!"

He rolled his eyes at her. "I thought you might say something like that. See, Granger, I enjoy spoiling you. I like giving you things that make your eyes light up… really, it's quite selfish on my part. I give you nice things because I like to see you happy. I know, however, that you don't always feel comfortable receiving nice things. So, this present has a built in compromise," he explained smugly, crossing his arms and settling back into the couch.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh? What's that supposed to mean, hmm?"

"You accept this typewriter because it's old and historical and swotty, and that makes you happy. You do that as a favor to me because as I've already explained, I'm a bit selfish and enjoy giving you expensive things you don't need. But because I knew that accepting this might make you a bit uncomfortable, I've thrown in a part two of your present--"

She interrupted. "Draco, the party was more than enough! I don't need a lovely typewriter or anything else for that--"

"Don't interrupt me, Granger," he said, holding up a hand to silence the retort he was sure was coming. "As I was saying, part two of your present. I've also made a rather sizable contribution to the war orphans fund in your name. So there, it all works out! You accept this present, which makes me very happy, and I give to the orphans, which you can't possibly feel guilty about."

She worried her bottom lip. "Draco… you're the most irksome man I've ever met," she told him with a small smile.

He laughed. "Irksome, am I?"

She nodded. "Frustrating and stubborn… and unbelievably thoughtful. Thank you. For everything. I can't begin to tell you what it all means to me." He lifted his left arm, and she moved into his embrace, snuggling into his side.

"You're welcome, you cheeky, little bint. I hope you've had a nice birthday," he said, resting his face on top of her head, breathing in her wonderful scent.

"The best I can remember in a long time. Thank you for my party- it was lovely to see everyone," she told him.

"Yes, it was. Of course, most of the guests gave me a bit of space, but I liked seeing Molly and Dromeda. And Teddy's getting so big!" Draco told her, rubbing small circles up and down her arm.

"And thank you for my lovely typewriter. I can't tell you what that means to me… I can't believe you remembered that The Wizard of Oz is my favorite!" she squealed, looking up to give him a delighted smile. He'd buy her thousands of old, used muggle appliances if she'd just keep looking at him like that.

"Don't act so surprised, Granger! I do listen, you know," he said in a mock huff, and she chuckled.

"And Draco, thank you for donating to the fund. As… well, as a sort of war orphan myself, I have a bit of a soft spot for those poor children," she confided, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

"I know, love. Maybe we can go and help out at the orphanage once they get everything up and running? Would you like to do that?" he asked, petting her curls.

She pulled away and smiled brightly at him through the tears that clouded her eyes. "Oh, yes! That's a wonderful idea!"

He smiled at her. "Right then. No more tears, now," he playfully admonished, wiping the tears out from under her eyes. "Is it perhaps time for us to be heading to bed?"

She looked up at him with those big, brown eyes of hers, and a bashful blush covered her cheeks. "Could… would you… well, could we maybe sit here for just a bit longer? This is nice. I like sitting here. With you."

His smile lit up his face as he opened his arms again, welcoming her back to his warmth. "Of course, birthday girl. Whatever you want."

Chapter Text

Ch. 15- On Patronuses and the Lack Thereof

They'd been working for a little over a month now, and Draco was still no closer to being able to conjure a patronus. Once or twice he'd shot blue mist from his wand, and Hermione had told him that he was "So close, Draco, really!" but otherwise, there hadn't been any progress at all.

On this particular Sunday, Draco had been at it for hours. He knew the incantation and really didn't need Hermione there to witness his repeated failure, but there she stood, waiting with an encouraging smile on her face for him to do something spectacular.

"Expecto patronum!" he called, and blue, fiber-like wisps flew from his wand before sputtering out. He groaned in frustration. Hermione walked over and grabbed his wandless right hand with both of hers.

"You know what you need?" she asked, looking up at him with those large, lovely, cinnamon colored eyes of hers.

"A stiff drink?" he retorted, looking away from her. He'd recently found that he couldn't be snarky when looking into her eyes.

"No," she said, dropping his hand and crossing to the window, thrusting it open. A bit of crisp wind blew in at them, and she shivered for a moment before turning to him with a smile on her face. "You need a break. Let's go for a walk! This is my favorite weather," she told him, crossing back to where he was standing.

He looked down at her. Truthfully, he thought this whole endeavor was a lost cause, and no amount of breaks or walks would help him conjure the damn thing, but he couldn't very well tell her that. Especially not when she was looking at him so hopeful and expectant. He hesitantly nodded, and she clapped her hands and ran off to grab a jumper.

Leaves danced around their feet, blown about by the chilly breeze, characteristic of mid-October. Winter will be here soon, Draco thought, making a mental note that he should stop by the manor later today to check on the progress of the rebuilding.

He looked down at Hermione whose eyes were closed, a content smile on her face as the wind blew her hair. She looked radiant and happy. She opened her eyes then, meeting his gaze, and blushed a bit. "Come on then," she told him, grabbing his hand, "let's go."

She pulled him in the direction of the Black Lake. She had released his hand, slipping her arm through his instead. Draco noted, vaguely, that other students on the grounds were studying them and whispering. It was no secret that Hermione and Draco were friends; they were frequently seen together in classes and around the castle, often alone but sometimes with Ginny or Blaise or Neville. He wasn't sure, though, if people had caught on to the fact that he was positively smitten with her. In truth, many blokes were, so it wasn't hard to imagine. What was hard for the Hogwarts population to understand, though, was what she could possibly see in him. Hermione was a war heroine: smart, brave, pretty, and noble. Sure, Draco Malfoy was fit, but Hermione wasn't shallow, there had to be more to it than that. Hermione wasn't the least bit fussed by the attention- "Please, Draco, I've dealt with much worse. When Skeeter wrote that I'd broken Harry's heart, strangers sent me curses!"- but Draco couldn't help but feel guilty.

"People are whispering about us again, Granger," he told her, suddenly conscious that her arm was looped through his. He certainly liked Hermione's attentions but didn't want her to come to any negative scrutiny on his behalf.

"Probably talking about what a fantastic catch you made yesterday against Ravenclaw," she told him in a disinterested tone.

"That's rubbish, and you know it, Granger. They're probably wondering how you can stand to be seen with me," he moped.

"Or they're remarking at how extraordinary it is that you're touching a muggleborn, Draco. You've changed. People might be stubborn, but they aren't all stupid. They can see that," she told him encouragingly. "Give yourself more credit."

"Most days, I'm still amazed you were able to forgive me," he said in a small voice.

She stopped, pulling him to a halt with her and turning to face him. She reached up and grabbed his face with her right hand, and he unconsciously rubbed his cheek against her palm. "We're done talking about this, Draco. It simply won't do to go around and around with the same, tired subject. I have forgiven you, and that's all that matters. Now it's time you forgive yourself and let this go," she said in a hushed, but firm, tone. She took in the dejected frown on his handsome face and the slump of his strong shoulders. "Besides," she continued with a small smirk, releasing his face, "you're hardly handsome when you frown."

He gave her a small smile, then said in his haughtiest voice, "I'll have you know that I'm always handsome."

She laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him along again. "Whatever you say, Narcissus." He smirked at her. Feeling buoyed by his slightly more positive attitude, she asked, "Speaking of Narcissus, or rather Narcissa, I've been meaning to ask… how are your parents? Do you know when they'll be getting out?"

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "It'll be awhile before I have to deal with my father. He's going to be locked up for a few years for his crimes. Mother got off with a much lighter sentence- only six months after her trial in July. She'll be out in January." Hermione nodded, and he continued, "I've been corresponding with her. She understands my reasoning for rebuilding the manor… when Father gets out, she says they'll live at another one of the Malfoy properties, but she doesn't want to move to another country alone. I think she's going to live with Aunt 'Dromeda when she's released."

"That's wonderful, Draco!" Hermione told him. "They've made up, then?"

He nodded. "It would seem so. Apparently Mother wrote to Aunt 'Dromeda, and they've been corresponding. I guess she even went to visit Mother in Azkaban once."

"That's fantastic! I'm so happy that that's worked out for them," she told him. He waited for the inevitable question, and after only a minute or two Hermione asked, in a small voice, "What have you told her about me, then?"

He looked down at her with a smile. "Everything. I was so sick of hiding it from her- Mother and I are quite close, you know. She told me she had always had a bit of a suspicion." At Hermione's raised eyebrows Draco told her, "Apparently I talked about you a great deal as a child."

Hermione laughed at that. "So other than her suspicions… how did she take all of that?" she asked, peering up at him.

He shrugged. "As expected, I suppose. I've dashed her dreams of an obnoxious pureblood wedding and her grandchildren will be half-bloods, but she's told me she'll work on accepting it, and she says she'd like to meet you when she's released."

Hermione paled and stopped moving. "Pureblood wedding and half-blood grandchildren? Draco, you've told her you fancy me, not that we're engaged!"

He shook his head and turned to her, taking her hands in his. "I've told you how these things work in my circle, Granger. My intention to court you tells my parents I'm serious. If things were a bit different, they'd be drawing up some ruddy contract with your parents right now. As it is, Mother is still likely planning our impending nuptials as a show of her acceptance of my decision."

"Draco, this... is a lot," she said, feeling quite overwhelmed.

He could feel her panic. "Relax, Granger. I'm not proposing. Think about it this way, no couple goes into a relationship expecting it will end, yeah? The intention is always that you'll keep the other person around as long as they make you happy?" She nodded. "Well, my family just takes that a bit further. That's all. I don't expect any promises from you. I'd just like to date you, whenever you're ready for that. I'd like to show you I'm worth keeping around."

"I suppose I can understand that," she acquiesced.

"Good," he said, pulling her left arm through the bend of his right. "Now then, let's talk about something distinctly less panic-inducing. I've been meaning to tell you about my latest theory regarding the Elixir of Hope…"

"All right, then, Draco," she told him when they got back to their common room and had resumed their patronus lessons. "Let's give it another go. You know what to do," she said reassuringly, giving him a smile and backing away just a bit.

Draco looked at her, long and hard. Her cheeks and nose were red from the chilly air outside the castle, her hair had been blown all around and was larger than ever, and her sweet smile made him melt as she stood there in her blue, oversized jumper made by Mrs. Weasley. He wanted to do this for her. He'd never known someone to have so much faith in him. He didn't want to let her down again. With that in mind, he called, "Expecto patronum!" but this time the incantation felt a bit different.

A blue-white figure floated out of his wand and around the room. She didn't take the time to see what figure he had conjured, but instead leapt up to wrap her arms around his neck in an excited hug. "Draco! You did it! That was brilliant!" she told him. "If you don't mind my asking, what memory was it that you thought of? You know, that allowed you to conjure it?"

He sighed. "It was you, Granger. I was thinking about the day you asked to teach me how to make a patronus. When you told me you believed in me… I thought of how happy and hopeful that made me feel, and well…" he explained, sheepishly. Hermione studied him. The man in front of her was nothing like the hateful boy she grew up with. Perhaps still a bit arrogant and snarky, but kind and giving and honest. What am I waiting for? she asked herself. Overcome by emotion at his admission of his patronus memory, she pulled him down to her and firmly pressed her lips against his.

Draco was caught off guard a bit,, but quickly caught on, pulling her little body in tight to his, wrapping his arms around her waist and then bringing them up to her face, holding her to him. She kissed him furiously, putting all of herself into it, hoping that it said all the things she hadn't yet told him. I'm proud of you. I'm inspired by you. I'm ready to be yours.

He knew that, if she let him, he'd get caught up in the kiss and take it too far. It's our first kiss, he told himself, and this is a lady we're wooing for keeps. Slow down. Draco slowly pulled away from Hermione, his hands still holding her face and her arms around his waist. He rested his forehead on hers, looking down at her.

"So, Granger... you let me kiss you," he said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Technically, I kissed you," she told him, giggling.

"Does this mean that you'll be mine?" he asked with an excited smile, moving his hands down her shoulders to grab both of her hands in his.

"Draco…" she started, but he interrupted.

"C'mon, Granger. Be mine," he asked, a bit insistently.

She smirked in an impressive imitation of him. "Tell you what, Draco. I'll be your girlfriend if you call me by my proper name."

"Granger-" he warned, but in a perfect reenactment of seconds before, she interrupted him.

"No, Hermione. C'mon. I know you can do it. Her-my-oh-nee. Say it, and I'm yours," she taunted, backing out of his grasp and across the room, giving him a big smile.

"You're a bossy, little thing, aren't you?" he quipped, chasing after her predatorily.

"You can say it, Draco. You did it once before. It's quite easy. Hermione," she provoked him, leaping onto the couch.

"You're asking for trouble, little witch," he warned with a smile, moving to stand in front of her on the floor, looking up at her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Say it, and I'll be yours. You can snog me anytime you want," she replied smugly, resting her arms around his neck.

"Come here," he told her, and pulled her in for another breathtaking kiss. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he spun them around, sitting on the couch with her straddling his lap. He broke the kiss to whisper in her ear. "You're mine now, Hermione, and I'm never letting you go."

Chapter Text

Ch. 16- On Jealousy

The Wednesday night prefect meeting found Draco and Hermione intercepting questions about the upcoming Halloween ball. It had been the idea of a few Slytherin prefects, and once McGonagall had approved, the rest of the group had quickly run with it. Now, with just over two and a half weeks until the holiday in question, plans were being set in stone. The prefects were dividing up tasks, and several of the eighth year students had been recruited to help, as well.

"Should there be a theme?" asked a sixth year Ravenclaw prefect, her quill poised, dutifully taking notes. Hermione was proud. A future Head Girl, if I've ever seen one!

"Isn't the theme Halloween?" a fifth year Hufflepuff responded, slouching in his seat, his arms crossed.

"Well, sure," interjected Pansy, "but it never hurts to be a bit more specific. Haunted Mansion or Monster Mash or something." She studied her nails in a display of casual indifference, but Hermione wasn't fooled-- party planning had Pansy right in her element.

"Why don't you two," Hermione suggested, indicating Pansy and Rebecca, the Ravenclaw prefect, "figure out a theme by next week and report back to us what it should be?" Both girls nodded and Hermione went about confirming everyone else's assignments.

After the meeting, almost everyone cleared out quickly. Pansy went over to Rebecca, and the two worked out a time to meet up in the library to discuss ideas. Draco was going over budgeting with a seventh year Slytherin prefect while Hermione gathered her items, waiting for him to finish so they could walk back to their room together. Hermione hoped she'd be able to convince him to study theoretical Chaldean arithmancy with her before bed as they had an exam on the subject coming up.

"Hermione?"

She looked up to see Ernie MacMillan smiling in what he probably thought was a charming way, his hands in his pockets. "Yes, Ernie?" she inquired.

"I was wondering if you'd accompany me to the Halloween ball?" he asked.

She was about to answer when, quicker than a flash, Draco was at her side, his hand on the small of her back. "She has a boyfriend, MacMillan," he stated flatly, but Hermione could see the spark of something in his eyes. What a jealous prat, she chuckled to herself.

"A boyfriend?" Ernie asked, confusion on his face, looking back and forth between the Head students. "I know you're friendly with this tosser, Hermione, but surely you're not dating him?"

"And why wouldn't I be?" Hermione bristled, standing up a bit straighter and leaning in to Draco.

"He's a Death Eater for Circe's sake!" Ernie exclaimed, throwing his hands up and claiming the attention of everyone still in the room.

"Former Death Eater, Ernie. Reformed Death Eater. As in, no longer believes that rubbish!" she bellowed back, not caring who in particular heard this blow up. Good, she thought, if this gets out, hopefully I won't have to deal with the inane questions of others.

"He called you names! The worst names. He fought on the other side of the war!" Ernie bellowed. Then, in a lower voice he said, "What would Harry think if he knew?"

Hermione laughed humorlessly. "Harry encouraged this! Harry wants me to be happy! Don't pretend to know what Harry would think, Ernie. You're a wanker, and if you can't see that Draco isn't the same person we grew up with, you're an idiot, as well." She rounded on the room, then. "I'd like the record to show that I don't answer to anyone for my decisions. Who I date, regardless of their affiliation in the war, is my business. My relationship with Draco concerns the two of us, and that's it. If you'd like to know what I see in Draco, take a minute to get to know him yourself. Now that that's handled," she said, turning back to Ernie and crossing her arms over her chest, "as I was going to say before, I can't go to the ball with you, Ernie. I'm seeing someone. But thank you for the invitation." Then she stomped out of the classroom, dragging Draco along with her.

The following day, Hermione was heading back from Advanced Runes, reading her notes on the effect of religion on Nordic runestones. She'd been distracted before class helping Ginny with a transfiguration assignment and had therefore missed lunch, so she was looking forward to grabbing something to eat from their refrigerator. She looked up to give Helga a quick smile and to tell her the password before entering her common room, head still buried in her notes- she figured Draco would still be in Advanced Herbology as it often took him much longer to get back from the greenhouses than it took her to get back when she used the shortcut through Godric's portrait. A high-pitched cackle quickly caught her attention, however. Pansy.

"How was class, Granger?" Draco asked, grinning at her over the back of the couch where he was sitting with the black-haired witch.

Hermione didn't like the warm, nasty feeling that welled up in her stomach at the site of Draco's proximity to the other girl. She wasn't a jealous person. She didn't get jealous of other girls. She decided long ago, after Ron and Lavender had broken up, that it was a wizard's world, and witches had to stick together. It seemed that message apparently hadn't been conveyed to her traitorous stomach, however, as jealousy rocketed around.

"Fine," she curtly told him, stalking over to the kitchen and turning her back away from him.

Behind her back, he gave Pansy a confused look to which she replied with an exaggerated eye roll. Getting off the couch, leaving the two to sort it out, she grabbed her bag off the floor. "I'm going to go. I need to get ready for Care of Magical Creatures. Before I leave, though," she said, making her way over to the kitchen where Hermione was rifling around in the cupboard and pointedly not looking at her boyfriend, "I just wanted to… listen, Granger, I still don't like you. I think you're a know-it-all and a teacher's pet, not to mention you're a bloody Gryffindor. Of the three, I don't even know which is worst. But despite that…" she trailed off awkwardly, picking invisible lint off of her skirt. She inhaled deeply. "I just wanted to say that it was nice, what you said about Draco last night. He can be a bit of a prat, but he's a good bloke. I guess I'm trying to say… I guess I'm happy that you make him happy. Even if I don't understand it." She shrugged and quickly made her way to the door before a slack jawed Hermione could reply.

"Granger," Draco said, ignoring Pansy's little admission, "have I done something?"

"No," she said, her back still to him.

He came over to the kitchen. "You're sure?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied simply.

"Because it feels like you're upset with me…" Draco continued, coming around the counter now, gently grabbing Hermione's forearm and turning her towards him.

She continued to look away with him, staring off at the wall on their right. "I'm not upset, Draco. How's Pansy?" she asked.

Draco suppressed a chuckled. "Is that what this is about? Jealous, Granger?"

She glared at him then, and he couldn't help but smirk at the adorable red now coloring her cheeks. "I'm not jealous! I just don't understand why you were all alone up here with her."

He shrugged. "She's my friend."

She rolled her eyes. "She fancies you."

He laughed. "She doesn't fancy me, sweetheart."

"Don't patronize me, Draco," she said, wrangling her arms out of his hold and stomping over to the sofa.

"I'm not patronizing you, love. Pansy doesn't fancy me… Pansy fancies girls," he explained, an ill-concealed smirk on his face.

Hermione felt quite silly, but huffed a bit. "How was I supposed to know that, you tosser?" She wasn't used to the slimy feeling that had taken up residence in her stomach, and didn't anticipate the extreme relief she felt at learning Pansy's preferences. It made her uneasy. Empowered women empower women, Hermione, she chided herself, uncomfortable with her newly realized jealousy and what that insecurity meant about her relationship with Draco. Being leery of other women will get you nowhere, you silly cow. And have a little more faith in Draco!

Draco came to sit beside her. "I didn't take you for the jealous type, Granger," he joked, grabbing her hands in his. His smug response to her sudden bout of possessiveness made her even more defensive.

"You're one to talk," she retorted, pulling her hands out of his to cross her arms. "Last night with Ernie you might as well have marked me!"

He chuckled. "I am what I am, love. I'm an only child and the last scion of an illustrious and ancient house. I've always been a bit territorial about what's mine. I don't especially enjoy sharing." He sat back, and pulled her feet into his lap.

"I'm not a broomstick, Draco," she told him in her bossiest tone.

"Sweetheart, we've been over this. I understand you're a fully independent person who doesn't, in any way, need me. I, however, need you. Which is why I get jealous… and I can admit that. You could have your pick of any bloke," he explained, squeezing her sock covered feet. Her skirt had flipped up just a bit, giving him a lovely view of her gorgeous legs that he was desperately trying to ignore, lest he get distracted and get her more riled up.

"And you couldn't have any girl?" she asked, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

"Even if I could, there's only one I want," he told her, looking into her eyes.

"And I don't want anyone other than you, you prat," she said. Then with a small smirk she added, "Which could be why I got a bit jealous earlier."

"Oh ho! So she admits it!" Draco said, letting go of her feet and moving closer to her, pulling her into his lap.

"You're insufferable," she told him with a laugh.

He kissed her on the tip of her nose. "But I'm yours," he quipped with a smile. Then, "Would you consider getting to know Pansy?"

"I don't think Pansy wants to get to know me," she told him evasively, raking her fingers through his soft, blonde hair.

"Granger, I made nice with Potter and Weasley long before you even came into the picture. I get along with Longbottom and Red and Lovegood… Pansy is one of my oldest friends. It would mean a lot to me. Please?" he asked. She looked into his beautiful, silver eyes and saw just how much this meant to him. She nodded.

"I'll try. But I was serious when I said that Pansy doesn't seem especially fond of me," she explained, nestling into his chest.

"Pansy doesn't always get on well with... people. Just be patient. Her bark is much worse than her bite, I assure you," he said, stroking her arm and resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Can we study a bit before I have to go tutor? I want to make sure we're prepared for the Advanced Transfiguration practical tomorrow," Hermione asked, sitting up straighter in Draco's lap.

He rolled his eyes. "Granger, you and I both know you've been prepared for that practical since class last week," he told her. Waggling his eyebrows, he moved to whisper seductively in her ear, "Let's snog instead." She felt his warm breath on her neck as he started trailing kiss down her jaw. Gods, he's walking temptation, isn't he? she thought to herself, as he moved to nibble on the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder meet. She quickly looked at the clock on the wall.

"I'll give you thirty minutes. Thirty minutes for snogging, and then Transfiguration," she said, pushing him back and straddling his lap.

"Granger," he groaned, "you're killing me."

She smirked at him and batted her eyes. "Thirty minutes is my final offer, sir," she said matter of factly and wound her fingers through the silky hair at the back of his head.

Friday night found Hermione sitting at the foot of Ginny's bed. Ginny was painting Hermione's toes Pygmy Puff Purple and grilling her about Draco.

"I can't believe you and Draco made it official, and I found out through Neville. Neville, Hermione!" Ginny berated, running her thumb nail around the edge of Hermione's pinky toe.

"It's not like I intended for people to find out that way," Hermione told her, flipping through Witchy Weekly disinterestedly. "But then Ernie was being nasty and Draco was acting jealous and--"

"Ugh," Ginny interrupted, "you've got a jealous Draco Malfoy eating out of the palm of your hand. Hermione Granger, you lucky, lucky girl…" Ginny swooned, throwing the back of her hand up to her forehead comically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Either way, I'm sorry you found out like that," she told her friend.

Ginny smirked mischievously and said, "It's okay. You can make up for it with details."

The brunette snorted. "Details?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, you minx. You snagged Draco Malfoy. There have been rumors about his prowess for years. Share!"

"Ginny, rumors about his 'prowess' are just rumors… he's about as experienced as I am," Hermione explained, and Ginny switched over to her other foot.

"And how experienced is that, exactly?" Ginny inquired, wiggling her eyebrows.

Hermione laughed. "We've only kissed, Gin."

"And how was that?" the redhead asked with a smile, delighted she finally had someone to share this with. She hadn't been able to girl talk with Hermione before as Hermione wasn't interested in hearing about Harry, her pseudo-brother, or telling Ginny about Ron, the redhead's actual brother.

"He's lovely," Hermione told her with a sparkle in her eyes, thinking about Draco's delectable arse, their lively debates, and those special smiles he reserved for her only.

"That's not going to cut it, 'Mione! C'mon then. I demand details," Ginny said imperiously, gesturing at her with the little polish brush.

"He's a wonderful kisser and a perfect gentleman. I've been in control every step of the way. He's content to do whatever I'm comfortable with," Hermione explained matter-of-factly.

"No heavy petting, then? All clothing has stayed on?" Ginny asked mischievously, smirking.

"Thus far, all clothing has stayed firmly in place. We've only been together since Sunday, Gin! It hasn't been a week. Draco seems… well, all right, to be frank, he wants to keep me around for awhile, so he's really in no rush," Hermione told her friend, a distinct blush now covering her face.

"Said that, has he?" Ginny inquired, an eyebrow raised curiously.

Hermione nodded, and couldn't keep the ridiculous smile off of her face, remembering all the times Draco had assured her of his intentions. She knew, logically, that this was all happening so quickly, but that didn't stop the warm, bubbly feeling that overwhelmed her everytime she thought about the handsome blonde who continually professed his undying adoration for her, despite her many quirks. "Yes, quite a few times, actually. It made me a bit anxious, at first, but then I realized… well, I have as much say in the longevity of the relationship as he does, don't I?"

"It seems like you have a bit more say than he does in a lot of ways," Ginny noted with a smirk. "You have him thoroughly whipped and it hasn't been a week."

"He's not whipped! That's a horrible term. He respects me and that's just proper," Hermione said, crossing her arms in protest.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. He would do anything for you, and he hasn't even seen your bra yet." Hermione chuckled, and Ginny continued, "But," she paused, sticking the little brush back into the violet bottle for dramatic effect, and staring directly in Hermione's eyes with a playful gleam in her eye, "you'll tell me when he does, right? I won't have to drag that out of you?"

Hermione levelled her friend with a look. "Ginny, you're the only person I can trust to give me advice about all of that. I don't want to be… bad at things, you know? When I'm ready to take more steps, you'll know before Draco does. Trust me on that," Hermione confided with a small smile. Then, curiously, she asked, "How many steps have you and Blaise taken, then?"

Ginny laughed. "All of them, Hermione."

"But you and Harry hadn't, right?" Hermione confirmed, and Ginny nodded.

"No, we never got past a bit of snogging. It just… wasn't right, anymore. We both knew that," Ginny confided with a sigh.

For the first time, Hermione could tell that the breakup had worn on Ginny more than she might have initially let on. Ginny was very happy with Blaise, any fool could see that, but Hermione could see by the slightly crestfallen look in her eyes that she would always be a little upset that she couldn't make it work with the boy she had pined after for years. Not woebegone with regret, or melancholy for lost love… but perhaps a little disappointed that she and Harry just couldn't make the story book romance work, despite the fact that everyone had been pushing for that.

Hermione took her friend's hand in both of her own, but an awkward look quickly crossed Ginny's face. She wasn't comfortable being so vulnerable- she usually endeavored to keep any perceived weakness covered by her "tough girl" exterior. It was a byproduct of having all those brothers.

Hermione released her friend and cleared her throat. "So then… was Blaise your first?"

"No, Dean. Gods, I can't believe we've never talked about this before, 'Mione!" Ginny told her, the smile quickly returning to her face.

"Well I was a bit preoccupied before, wasn't I? Fighting Voldemort and studying and all that," Hermione responded with a chuckle.

Draco came back from Quidditch practice quite exhausted. They'd flown hard this morning, and he felt it in his abs. He was looking forward to a hot shower and Hermione's scrambled eggs. He entered their common room, but his little witch wasn't sitting in her usual window seat. He came over to the kitchen and saw she had her entire upper body in a low cupboard, clearly searching for something.

"Draco?" she asked, "Is that you?"

"Yes, dear," he replied after a second. He'd been quite distracted by the tiny sleep shorts she was wearing that barely covered the swell of her perfect behind. She backed out of the cupboard and turned to face him. Something else distracted him, then, but not nearly as pleasantly.

"What in Salazar's name are you wearing?" he asked, a bit indignant.

She looked down at herself. She'd thrown on an old quidditch jersey she'd nicked from Harry. She'd started her cycle that morning and the oversized, well-worn garment was a bit more comfortable than the silky pyjamas she usually paraded around in on Saturday mornings. "It's Harry's," she said with a shrug, turning around to show him the 'Potter' emblazoned on the back.

"Granger, this simply won't do," he told her, shaking his head. He grabbed her hand and drug her off to his bedroom where he began rifling through drawers. She took in his bedroom. Draco's a bit of a neat freak, isn't he? The room was exceptionally clean and organized. Harry and Ron's room certainly never looked like this, nor the twins'. "Here," he said, thrusting a Slytherin quidditch jersey at her. "I know you're going to roll your eyes at me and lecture about not being my property, but will you please consider my wounded pride just a little? I don't like seeing another bloke's name on you… even if it is just Potter."

She rolled her eyes at him, but took the jersey all the same, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You need a shower," she told him, and he nodded in agreement, pulling his black jumper over his head. She took in his form appreciatively for a moment before asking, "Breakfast?"

"Please, love," he told her with a nod, stretching his arms a bit over his head to give Hermione a little show. She worried her lower lip in that way that drove him crazy, and he realized his plan had backfired. "Granger, you can't do that, or I'll ravish you right here, patience be damned," he told her, indicating her lower lip with a hand.

"You're one to talk!" she said, gesticulating at his exposed torso.

He smirked. "Come here and give me a kiss."

She shook her head with a chuckle. "You smell like sweat and grass," she explained.

"C'mon, sweetheart… one small kiss and then I'll shower?" he bargained, stalking over to her.

"You can have your small kiss with breakfast once you're through showering!" she told him, backing slowly across his room.

"You're a cruel, cruel woman, Granger," he told her, boxing her in between his arms against his door. He looked down at her. Her chest was heaving, but he couldn't tell if it was due to adrenaline from their little chase or if her desire matched his own. Her pupils were dilated and he could barely make out the tiny gold flecks in her coffee colored eyes. He watched as her little, pink tongue briefly flicked out to wet her bottom lip, and let out an involuntary groan that made her giggle. I'm glad someone finds this little game of hers amusing, he thought, grumpily, moving inconspicuously so she wouldn't notice him attempting to shift the growing hardness in his pants.

She smirked up at him. "Eggs?" she asked. He nodded grumpily and she kissed the tip of his nose, ducking out of his embrace and letting herself out of his room.

You'll be the death of me, Granger, he told himself, shucking off the rest of his clothing and walking into the bathroom.

After his shower, Draco walked down the stairs to find that Hermione had changed into his jersey. He got a weird, primal pleasure from seeing his name across her back and snuck up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing small kisses down her neck. She chuckled and inclined her head opposite him, giving him more room to continue his ministrations.

"I smell better, then?" he asked her between kisses, his voice thick with amusement and lust.

"A bit, yeah," she told him, practically purring as he nibbled on her earlobe.

"Can I have my kiss now?" he whispered into her ear as he continued lavishing attention to her lobe.

"I believe you asked me for a small kiss, and I've let you get away with a bit more than that just now, haven't I?" she informed him, turning in his hold to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and threading her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You also teased me and then put me out," he reasoned, grinning down at her. "Utterly heartless of you, if I say so myself." He brought his forehead down to rest on hers, "C'mon, Granger… one tiny kiss?" She chuckled and pressed her lips up to his. The innocent kiss quickly turned heated as she pulled him into her, her hands still threaded through his white-blonde hair. His tongue found its way into her mouth to massage hers as he lifted her onto the counter behind where she was standing. She hooked her legs around his waist, completely wrapping herself around him. His hands wandered from her hips to her lower back, somehow finding their way under the jersey to rub circles on her soft skin with his thumbs. The contact was heavenly and Hermione was about to tell him so when they both smelled it. Smoke.

"Dammit, Draco," she said, leaping off the counter to frantically grab the pan of now blackened eggs.

"'Dammit, Draco?' You were a very active participant in that, love," he pointed out, voice laced with amusement and a wide smile across his face, as she scraped the eggs into the rubbish bin.

"Now I have to start all over!" she told him, but he shook his head.

"We'll do it together. No distractions this time," he assured her, raising his hands in innocence. "C'mon, Granger, teach me how to cook like a muggle."

After they had made and eaten their breakfast, they made their way over to the sofa. Draco laid down and pulled Hermione down on top of him, and they rested there for a bit, chatting aimlessly. Her head was on his chest over his heart, and he alternated between running his hand up and down her spine and plucking at random curls.

"What are your plans for this evening?" he asked her, coiling a curl around his index finger and studying the various shades of honeyed brown and chocolate.

"I'm meeting with Ron and Harry at my parent's house. We're going to watch a film and make dinner," she explained with a bright smile on her face. Then, tentatively, she asked, "Would you like to come?"

He smiled down at her. "That's okay, love. Have fun with your friends- you haven't seen them since your birthday, and you three didn't really get the chance to spend time together then. Maybe I'll see if Blaise wants to go for a drink at the Hogs Head," he told her, kissing her temple.

She nuzzled into him, and he bent to rest his face in her sweet smelling curls. He had the realization, then, that it didn't get any better than this. He could lay there with her until the end of time, covered in her petite warmth, surrounded by her sweet smell, and listening to her happily babble on about a muggle author named Proust. Hermione's chatter stopped suddenly, and she let out a contented hum, placing a kiss on his chest. Draco knew that there was no reason for either of them to be jealous. She was just as happy as he was, and they fit together perfectly.

Chapter Text

Ch. 17- On Revelations

At half four, Hermione flooed to her house and set about tidying. By five o'clock she had set out for the corner store down the street for supplies, and by six, she was almost done preparing lasagna when the boys popped into the living room.

"Hermione?" she heard Harry yell.

"In the kitchen!" she called back.

She heard both boys clomp across the house, and then she hard Harry's, "Hermione!" and Ron's, "Smells good!"

She accepted both of their hugs, then shooed them out to the table so she could put together a salad. When everything was complete, she enlisted the boys' to take the salad bowl and garlic bread to the table, carrying the hot dish of lasagna to the table herself, and the three friends sat down together for the first time in awhile. She smiled to herself, realizing that this was the first time that the three of them had been alone since just after Harry had defeated Voldemort. Sure, they had spent time together at the Burrow, but there had always been other people around. This was the first time, since those months alone in the tent, and their quiet moment together after the Battle of Hogwarts, that the three of them had just been together. Her heart swelled at the realization that it had been months, and still nothing between them had changed. She knew in the deepest recesses of her heart that it would always be like this between them. They could go months without seeing one another, but nothing would ever change-- they would always be each other's constant.

"So, boys, how has training been going?" Hermione asked, spearing a tomato on her fork and popping it into her mouth.

"Oh, it's all right. Harry's top of the class, of course. I think making him go through training was really more of a formality, than anything- the instructor asks him for advice all the time," Ron told her, making Harry blush and Hermione chuckle.

"Oh Harry, that's wonderful!" Hermione said, turning to give him a smile. She turned her smile to Ron, who was doing a good job of being a supportive friend. "Ron, I'm sure you're just being modest," she told him, laying her hand on his.

"Oh, I'm all right. Not the worst in the class by any means… but Harry's the star pupil. It was bound to happen to one of us without you around! I reckon he'll be the youngest Head Auror there's ever been," Ron told her with a shrug and a content smile. Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, but didn't deny it, and she was proud of both of her boys.

"Well, I'm proud of you both. You'll make fantastic aurors," Hermione said, smiling at her boys. They were busily eating and joking back and forth, and her heart was so full at being with her two oldest friends. She might be a bit closer to Ginny now, but they would always be her best friends. She was so proud of them and all they were accomplishing. She turned to the redhead, who was laughing at a joke Harry had just made about a bloke in their training named Jenkins. "Ron, how's Luna?" she asked.

He choked on the mouthful of lasagna he had just swallowed, and Harry thrust a water glass into his hand, encouraging him to drink. Once that fiasco was avoided, Ron took a minute to regain his composure before turning stoically to Hermione and saying, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Hermione giggled. "Ronald, I've known about you two for ages. Luna and I spoke about you on the train to Hogwarts and I saw you sneak off with her for a bit at my party." He gave her a sheepish, embarrassed look at being caught lying, but she just gave him a warm, reassuring smile. "I think you two would be lovely together, Ron. I'm certainly not upset, if that's what you were worried about. You complement each other well. I've always believed she had a bit of crush on you... "

"She did," he acknowledged, with a small smile, his ears turning pink in mild embarrassment. "She's wonderful. We're taking things sort of slowly because she's still at school and whatnot, but…" He shrugged. "She makes me happy. She's got a way of making everyone feel special, you know? Everything, really, now that I'm thinking about it. I never looked at things the way she does, but she opens my eyes to them. Mundane things, you know? That I never appreciated before? She makes me rethink them."

Hermione gave him a wide smile. "I'm so happy for you, Ron. It seems like you're doing quite well for yourself," she told him, before turning her attention to Harry. "And what about you, Harry? Clearly you're doing well at auror training… are you seeing anyone?"

He shook his head, but Ron interjected, "Oh, Harry, go on and tell her about the muggle girl who makes your morning lattes who steams the milk 'just right' and gives you extra foam," he said with an eye roll, continuing, "He won't ask her out, but she's certainly as interested as he is."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "She's a muggle… I can't date a muggle. I love our world too much to hide that part of myself. She's pretty, but it wouldn't work out," he explained, then turned to Hermione and said, "No, I'm not seeing anyone… but I'm told you are." He gave Hermione a smirk that would rival Draco's and she blushed.

"Someone's told you, then, have they?" she asked him, wondering who it could be.

"I received a rather angry letter from MacMillan. Even his owl seemed to be a bit miffed. Seems you're keeping the wrong sort of company and I'm to tell you you're bang out of line," he said, chuckling, but at Hermione's look of rage he quickly amended his attitude, "Hermione, you know I'm not going to tell you that. Malfoy and I get on fine, for starters, but even if we didn't, only a pillock would think it was a good idea to go about telling you what to do."

"Wait, Hermione's with Malfoy?" Ron asked, but Hermione ignored him and huffed.

"I didn't respond, of course," Harry explained. "He's always been a bit of a tosser. MacMillan, I mean. He's lost the plot, but he'll figure it out soon enough.".

"Hermione, you're seeing Malfoy?" Ron again inquired, but he was again ignored as Hermione flew off the handle.

"Harry Potter, you write him back straight away! I'm not dealing with his nonsense, telling me what to do and thinking he's right! You tell him that I do as I please and he should mind his own business!" she bellowed, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth beside the table.

"If that's what you want, I reckon I can," the dark-haired wizard responded with a sigh, pushing his spectacles up his nose.

"Someone explain to me about Malfoy and Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, reclaiming the attention of both of his friends.

Hermione sat down again and leaned toward her friend, grabbing his hand in hers. "Draco is my boyfriend. I had planned on telling you both about it tonight, but I thought you might have had an idea before, what with the party and all…"

Ron shrugged. "I mean, I knew he fancied you… I didn't expect you'd fancy him back. At least, not so quickly… but it sort of makes sense, doesn't it?" She gave him a befuddled expression and he continued, "I mean, this summer you two were always whispering about books and making jokes that no one else really understood. And I suppose he's an attractive enough bloke, as far as blokes go. I can see why you would be good together."

Harry grabbed the hand that Ron wasn't holding, and she looked over at him, then back at Ron. Her boys. She didn't need their approval, exactly, but to know that they weren't against it meant a lot to her.

"Hermione," Harry started, peering at her with a serious expression, "there's one more thing. This is something Ron and I need to talk to you about." She gave him her full attention, but pulled her hands back to herself, sitting them in her lap. "The thing is… there have been a lot of attacks since the school year started. They've all been against muggleborns. We think they might be a sort of retaliation for the war." While he explained, Hermione's mind began to race and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

"We're only telling you because we're worried you might be in danger," Ron interjected, and she turned her attention to him. "You're probably the most well-known muggleborn there is."

"So what should I do about this, then?" Hermione asked, looking between her two friends who had worried expressions on their faces.

"Nothing yet. The Auror department is handling it. Try not to leave the castle alone, but at Hogwarts you should be fine. And… well, we'd like permission to monitor your owls," Harry asked, his voice quiet, but stern. Hermione could see why he was at the top of his auror class.

"Yes, of course. If that's what you need. You'll keep me informed? I don't want to be left in the dark," she told them, and they both hesitantly nodded. They weren't technically supposed to keep citizens abreast with official auror business, but this was Hermione they were dealing with, and even the Minister of Magic couldn't tell her no.

After her night with the boys, Hermione flooed back to the eighth-year lounge and then headed back to her common room. She had a lot to reflect on and was hoping to confide her concerns in Draco. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found, so she headed to her bedroom. He must still be out with Blaise, she thought. I'll just talk to him tomorrow.

After changing into a silky nightie in midnight blue, she settled down in bed with a book, checking the time. Almost midnight. I hope Draco and Blaise are okay. I wonder if they're planning on coming back to the castle tonight. She got her answer not long after when she heard the portrait hole open, followed by a loud crash.

"Damn!" she heard an obviously drunk Draco blurt. She heard Blaise shush him in a comically loud voice that let her know that the Italian wasn't any more sober than her boyfriend.

"You two are idiots! You're going to wake up Hermione!" she heard from Neville who seemed to be the least drunk of them all, though his words were still a bit slurred.

"Hermione…" Draco sighed. "My beautiful, little witch. Where's she at? I wanna give her a kiss!" She heard Neville and Blaise making kissy noises, followed by a persistent knocking at her door. She got out of bed and opened the door, pleased with herself for having put on the tarty pyjamas that Draco was so fond of.

"There's my baby!" Draco exclaimed, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her into him. Burying his face in the soft skin of her neck and inhaling deeply he moaned, "Gods, you smell so good. And you're so pretty. So, so pretty." He had begun petting her hair, perhaps a little rougher than he would have sober, and Hermione stifled a chuckle at his overt fondness. It was then that he seemed to take in what she was wearing. "Oh Merlin, you're trying to kill me. Look at you! You're the most beautiful witch in the world!" Hermione rolled her eyes at his drunken flattery, but that didn't stop a pretty blush from coloring her cheeks.

"And you, Mr. Malfoy, are pissed," she said matter of factly, putting her hands on her hips. That seemed to have the opposite effect she wanted, however, as Draco's eyes only seemed to cloud over with more lust at her bossy tone. "Draco, love, we need to get you a sobering potion."

She grabbed his hand and moved to take him to his bedroom, when she remembered they still had company. Blaise wolf-whistled and Neville quickly averted his eyes.

"No wonder Draco's so smitten, Granger. Look at what you've been hiding under your school robes," Blaise drawled with a mischievous smirk.

"Oi! Don't talk to her like that!" Draco called, seemingly snapping out of his stupor and moving to march over to where the other two wizards sat. Hermione grabbed his arm, and did her best to turn him to face her.

"Draco, you're hardly behaving in a respectable manner. Why don't you go to your bedroom and wait for me to come help you?"

He wilted, giving her a pathetic nod and trudging off towards his room. She turned her glare to Blaise. "It's time for you to go to bed, boys. Neville, can you help Blaise? It seems he's in the mood to get himself into trouble." Neville nodded, standing up and pulling Blaise up with him. The two ambled uncoordinatedly out of the room, and Hermione let out a long sigh before turning to tend to the drunk blonde.

When she opened his door, she found him with his shirt half off, caught around his head, arms flailing with one in a sleeve and one bare. She chuckled to herself before walking over to assist him.

"Thanks, love," he groaned, moving to take off his belt. After a few minutes without success, he gave Hermione a pleading look. At her chuckle he slurred, "Don't laugh, Granger. This is humiliating. Certainly not how I imagined you taking off my trousers for the first time."

She smirked. "Imagined that, have you?" She gasped as a part of his anatomy she was only vaguely familiar with came to a bit more prominence.

He laughed. "Sweetheart, it's safe to assume that, with you, I've imagined it all," he leered, though the provocativeness of it all was severely undercut by the drunken eyebrow raise he gave her, which made him look like a muggle cartoon character. He crossed the room clad in only his pants, and opened a drawer, pulling out a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms.

"You really need a sobering potion," Hermione noted, watching carefully as he tumbled about trying to get both legs into the flannel trousers. He shook his head at her.

"I always sleep terribly when I've had one," he explained, moving back to lay on his bed, resting his head in her lap.

"Sobering potion today or a hangover potion tomorrow, love," she pointed out, and he took a minute to evaluate his options. The hangover potion tasted terribly and made one belch all day. He supposed he would deal with a night of fitful sleep.

"Oh, all right, then," he agreed, gesturing his hand in the direction of the bathroom. "Would you be a dear and get one for me?" He gave her his best puppy dog face and she rolled her eyes, but went to retrieve one for him nonetheless.

She brought him a vial of the pearly green liquid, and he downed it in one go, setting the empty vial on his bedside table. Getting under the covers, he turned to her.

"Will you stay with me?" he entreated, silver eyes suddenly more focused than they had been moments before.

"What?" she questioned, taken off guard.

"Stay? Please?" he beseeched, vulnerably looking up at her. She took in the insecure look in his beautifully mercurial eyes and the anxious way he was playing with the blanket.

She nodded. "I'll stay tonight. But--"

"I know, I know. I'll behave like a gentleman and keep my hands to myself," he interrupted, almost sober at this point. "Have I ever given you a reason to think I wouldn't, Granger? I just feel like rubbish and being around you makes me comfortable. Sleeping with you at your parents house was the most rested I've felt in a while, despite the fact that I slept in an awkward position."

He scooted over in the bed and pulled back the covers, indicating she should lay beside him. She settled in, and he threw the comforter back over them, wrapping his long arms around her like a safety belt with one around her waist and the other over her shoulder and across her chest. He nuzzled her neck with his nose, taking comfort in her smell and warmth pressed against him, placing feather light kisses behind her ear. She sighed.

"Draco," she cooed, turning over to face him.

"Hmm?" he asked, leaning in to place kisses along her jaw.

"Harry and Ron told me some things tonight, and I'm worried," she confided, and at the tone of her voice, he pulled back and looked her in the eyes. Though the room was too dark to make out the color, he could still see all the emotions that lay there clearly for him to see.

"What kind of things?" he inquired tentatively, bringing his hands up to her face to stroke her cheeks with his thumbs.

"We can talk about it tomorrow when you're a bit more clear headed. I just… I want to talk to you about this, okay? I don't need protecting or anything like that, but... I feel safe around you," she told him, moving to nestle against his chest.

He knew that the circumstances weren't ideal, but he couldn't help the joy that flooded through him when she told him he made her feel safe. Warmth was spreading out from his heart to the tips of his toes and fingers, and he felt like he might be sloshed again, only this time he was drunk on the euphoric way she made him feel, and not on fifty year old firewhisky he'd shared with Blaise and Neville. He reached down and tipped her face up to his with a finger under her chin, and placed a sweet, solid kiss on her lips.

"I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe, sweetheart." He leaned in to give her another kiss, this one a bit more lingering, but then he felt telltale wetness against his cheeks.

"Don't cry, baby," he pleaded, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm sorry," she blubbered, "I don't mean to cry. I just… we thought this was all over, you know? I thought I would finally be free. But people are always going to want to hurt me because of who I am."

She cried a bit more while Draco petted her hair and whispered soothing words of comfort. He felt incredibly guilty, because not too long ago, he would have been considered one of the people who hated her for something that she couldn't control. He listened to her cries peter out to whimpers until finally she had calmed herself down.

"I don't know what came over me," she murmured, sniffing and wiping the tears from her face. "It's just… well, things were going so well. And I'm feeling a bit emotional this week. I'm sorry," she repeated, and even in the darkness of the room he could make out a blush forming over her cheeks.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, love," he consoled, kissing her temple and running his hands up and down her spine. "We can talk about it tomorrow. Tonight I think a bit of distraction is in order."

"Draco, I'm not really in the mood for snogging right now," she explained.

He chuckled softly. "That's not what I had in mind, Granger. I just meant talking."

"About what?" she asked, tracing the planes of his naked chest with her fingertips. She thought back to that day at the end of summer in the cinema when she had that decided that Draco was marblesque. She had been right—the man before her could rival the greatest statues. Draco could stand next to David in the finest art museums, and everyone would marvel at how beautiful he is.

"Hermione, love?" Draco prodded, and she realized she hadn't been listening to a word he had said while she had been studying his chest.

"Sorry, distracted. What was that?" she asked.

"Can't keep your thoughts off me, Granger?" he joked. "I mean, it's obvious you can't keep your eyes or your hands off, but I thought perhaps you'd have a bit more focus. Tsk tsk!" She rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from him, but he chuckled and grabbed her around the waist, nuzzling her neck.

"Who can't keep to himself, now?" she pointed out smugly, but he just placed kisses along her shoulder.

"Oh, I've never pretended to be very good at that. Now then, pet," he started, pulling himself off of her with great difficulty and rolling on to his back, pulling her with him to rest on his chest, "as I was saying before when you were clearly not paying attention, let's talk about the ball. What will you be wearing? We should probably coordinate."

"I hadn't given it much thought, yet. It will probably depend on the theme. Ginny and I can go shopping next week," she told him, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. "Or maybe Pansy would like to go with me…" she trailed off.

Draco smiled widely down at her, and she looked up to meet his gaze. "You're something, Granger," he whispered, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

"Yes, I'm quite marvelous," she joked, smiling up at him.

"I know you're joking, but really, you are. Smart as a whip, ambitious, bloody beautiful- Gods, when you parade around in those little pyjamas I think I might just pass out," he told her, grabbing her hand and kissing the palm before continuing, "And you're the kindest, most forgiving person I've ever met, and I certainly don't deserve you."

"Draco… don't say that. I'm not some martyr for the sake of unity. If you didn't deserve me, I wouldn't be with you. I know my worth." She nodded once to reaffirm what she was saying. He looked down and met her eyes, admiring the insistent, fiery look that seemed to burn in her cinnamon orbs. As she gazed into his eyes the look softened, and her whole face filled with warmth. "What did I say before about this self-deprecating nonsense? I don't like to hear it. You're a good man, Draco Malfoy, and you make me happy. It's time you started believing that," she reached up and grabbed his face, pulling him down for a searing kiss. She revelled in the firewhisky taste of his kisses and the feel of his tongue along her bottom lip. At some point, they had switched positions, with her on her back and him hovering over her, showering her face with kisses.

Coming up for air, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her warm, little body into his and resting his face between her breasts. "Thank you for staying with me, love," he murmured into her silk covered chest, "You have no idea what it means to me."

"I enjoy cuddling with you, Draco. Maybe this is something I wouldn't mind repeating," she quipped with a smirk, carding her fingers through his hair, feeling his contented sigh against her stomach as they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Ch. 18- On Halloween & Surprises

Draco woke up wrapped around a soft, warm body, his face buried in a mass of unruly curls. It seemed that Hermione liked to have all of the bed for herself and had pushed him off to a lone corner, while her little limbs shot out across the rest of the mattress, a fourth of it going completely unused. He realized she was also a blanket thief, as he found his comforter tossed off the bed and on the floor by her feet. Despite the crowding, the chill, and the effects of the sobering potion, it was still the best nights sleep he'd had in a long time.

His witch was making sleepy, little groans and whimpers, and the noises, combined with her pert bum, which was pressed resolutely into his crotch, was making a rather male part of him very much awake. He looked down to see that her silky, skimpy nightie had risen up in her sleep, with the bottom sitting around her waist, and her sheer, lacy knickers on display. He wanted nothing more than to run his hands over the swell of her bottom, but she wasn't awake and he didn't think she'd thank him for that. He heard a light moaning noise and felt the object of his interest stirring.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he lilted, pressing kisses down the back of her neck and across her shoulders.

"Mmm, morning," she replied, still clearly half asleep. "Sleep well?"

"Best night's sleep I've had in a long time," he replied between kisses, "even if you are a bit of a bed hog." She giggled in response and began to stretch a bit. When she realized that his very prominent erection was nestled between her buttocks she let out a surprised, little, "oh!"

Feeling a bit embarrassed, he tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, love. I know I said I'd behave but I promise that I really can't help that. It's just my reaction to being close to you like this and, oh--"

He stopped his explanation and let out a low groan when she experimentally rubbed herself up against him. She enjoyed drawing that sound out of him and wiggled her backside against him again, receiving another groan in response. "Good morning, indeed," she quipped, nestling herself against him tighter and rubbing against him once more.

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. "Not that I don't really enjoy that- because trust me, I do- but I don't want to be a pig, love. You asked that I remain a gentleman if you stayed in my bed, and this feels distinctly ungentlemanly." He let out another moan as she languidly rolled her body along his once more before turning around to face him, looping her arms around his neck.

"I think we should talk about this," she explained. At his confused look, she clarified, "Sex. I think we should talk about sex."

"While I'm open to talking about this with you, dear, do you think maybe we could do it at another time? When you're not writhing around in my bed, half naked? Talking about sex now seems a little tortuous…" he explained.

"I just want you to know that I'm not… I don't know. I'm not a frigid prude or anything. I'm certainly open to the idea of exploring things. We've not been together that long, so I'm not necessarily ready for sex now, but we can always do other things," she carefully explained. She didn't want to come off too tarty, but she liked to think she had a relatively healthy and mature outlook on sex.

"I've never thought you were a… what did you say? Frigid prude? I've never thought that. I just want to make sure you're comfortable. I don't want to rush things. I don't want you to feel like you have to grope me before you're ready just because I might like it," he shared, trying to move his legs a bit to relieve the tension now mounting in his groin.

"And I want you to know that it's not taking advantage to try things with me. I'll tell you if you're doing something I'm not comfortable with. And as for groping you," she purred, her fingertips meandering down his neck and chest slowly, "you should know that I'm quite curious about you. All of you. You've never been with a woman before and I have to admit, that turns me on a bit. Knowing I'll be the first woman to get to touch you like that." She had somehow rolled them so that she was on top of him, and she sat up to straddle him now.

She looked down at him. He was so lovely, laying there and looking up at her like she was the best thing he'd ever seen. A slight flush had crept up his chest and he was panting, his silver eyes turned bright and his hands were twitching like they wanted to touch her.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart. Kiss me? Please." It wasn't really a request, and she bent down to give him what he wanted. She ran her hands down his arms, grabbing his hands with her own and placing them on her bum as she intensified the kiss and continued to grind on him. For his part, Draco was happy to follow her lead, alternating squeezing and stroking her taut arse, grinding back up into her. After years of only touching himself, he was sure it wouldn't be long before he came from her attentions as she moved down to suck on the pulse point in his neck.

Hermione hoped this would ease the issue she had caused for him this morning, and she was having quite a lot of fun. She'd marked his neck and then moved on to his ears, which proved to be a weak spot for Draco. She liked that she had the power to affect him this way-- he often left her breathless and shy with his open affection, and she knew she wasn't as good at conveying how he made her feel. She hoped that her actions showed him just how much she had come to care for him.

At once, Draco flipped them over, reclaiming her lips, changing the position of their grinding- a benefit for Hermione, as he was now bumping directly against her clit. She let out a moan, which only spurred him on further, and he increased the speed of his thrusts. Hermione ran her tongue along his bottom lip and, in a moment of pure inspiration, bit down on it and then sucked it into her mouth. This proved to be too much for Draco, who came, with a loud groan and heavy breathing, riding out his orgasm.

"Well," Hermione smirked, quite pleased with herself, "that's certainly one way to wake up."

Still breathing heavily, Draco rolled off of her and on to his side. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he told her, kissing her temple and lacing the fingers of his left hand through her right.

"For what?" she questioned. "I very much enjoyed that." She winked and gave him an adorably mischievous smirk.

"I had hoped I'd be able to, er, make that as pleasant for you as it was for me," he told her sheepishly.

"It was pleasant, Draco. Very pleasant," she told him, smiling.

"I meant that I hoped the first time we did something like this, you might… erm, orgasm, too," he explained bashfully. A blush had started to creep up his neck and was quickly spreading to the flush already on his cheeks from their exertion, but as he looked into her coffee-colored eyes and saw nothing but genuine contentment there, he felt marginally better.

She chuckled. "It was still enjoyable, love. We'll just have to practice that a bit more, that's all," she teased with a wink, "And just so you know, I was quite close."

He nuzzled her neck. "I'm sorry, love- I stopped listening after 'practice more'. What were you saying?"

She lightly swatted him on the chest, laughing. "You're insufferable, Draco Malfoy."

"Perhaps," he responded, smirking, "but I'm all yours."

The theme for the Halloween ball would be Gothic Masquerade. At Wednesday's meeting they had divided up tasks, and with just over a week and a half for planning, they got to work. Draco and Hermione were overseeing everything, and slowly it was all coming together. Pansy had taken over decorations with a team of diligent sixth years who hung on every word she said and it seemed that, come next Saturday, the Great Hall would be transformed with cobwebs, lace, and intricate crystal candelabras.

Pansy and Hermione had also found time, a week before the dance, to go shopping. They had perused around the wizarding shops in Diagon Alley before Hermione had convinced Pansy to accompany her to muggle London. They stepped into a boutique that had a promising display of gowns in the window. When Hermione saw the dress that the mannequin was wearing, she knew she had found 'the one'. It was in a deep, royal blue with a delicate fan of emerald and gold sequined peacock feathers. It was strapless with a corseted back, and a large, poofy skirt filled with layers of crinoline. She'd make a mask in the same royal blue color and afix peacock feathers to it. Pansy tried to argue that peacock feathers weren't exactly gothic, but she didn't care; she felt beautiful and knew Draco would love it.

Draco had made several attempts to steal a look at her dress, but she was steadfastly guarding it, determined to make him wait to see it until the night of the ball. Pansy had given him a small idea of what his witch might be wearing so that he could purchase a suitable gift for her, and so that he could ensure they would match. He'd settled on a black trousers and a white shirt with a royal blue waistcoat. After much deliberation, he'd decided to forgo his traditional black dress robes in favor of a muggle suit jacket as Hermione seemed to be quite fond of him in muggle clothing. They had slept together a few times since their lovely morning adventure, and though things hadn't gotten quite so heated since, Draco simply enjoyed waking up next to his little witch, showering her with kisses first thing in the morning and knowing that he was the only one who got to see her wild hair so bedrumpled.

The day of the ball, Draco had offered to finish overseeing the last details being set up so that Hermione and Pansy could get ready. Beauty products were covering the counter in the Heads bathroom where Ginny and Hermione were getting ready. Ginny pinned Hermione's hair into a low design at the nape of her neck and had gone all out with fancy eye makeup that Hermione normally wouldn't tolerate. They giggled and gossiped, Hermione telling Ginny about her shopping adventure with Pansy-- "She's really not that bad, Gin. And anyway, it's important to Draco…"-- and Ginny questioning Hermione about her sleepovers with Draco-- "Honestly, Hermione, how you haven't shagged him yet is beyond me!"

At 7:45 there was a knock on the door, and both girls turned to each other to give a last minute assessment. Hermione's gown made her look like a fairytale princess while Ginny's was like something out of a Dickens novel (not that she understood Hermione's reference).

"Well now, aren't you two a vision?" Blaise drawled, pulling Ginny into his arms and giving her a delicate kiss.

Draco grabbed Hermione's hand and spun her around, smiling wide at the sight of his beautiful girlfriend. "You must be absolutely mad, Granger," he told her simply.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, a bit incensed. She had not let Ginny prod and pull and poke her for hours so that he could call her mad!

He pulled her in close and kissed along her jaw. "To be mine. Completely barmy, you are. You're the most gorgeous goddess who has ever walked the earth, and I'm a mere mortal who is banking on you remaining ignorant to the fact that you're very much out of my league," he explained, whispering in her ear.

Hermione felt like she could melt. His flowery speech and the strength of his affection for her were overwhelming, and she instantly felt guilty that she'd never be able to make him feel as secure in her feelings- she just wasn't that good at putting her emotions into words. Blushing, she looked up into his handsome face, silver eyes sparkling with delight at his good fortune. "You flatter me, Mr. Malfoy," she told him, reaching up to kiss his cheek. He turned at the last second, capturing her lips with his.

"Oh alright, you two!" Ginny called from the other side of the room, hands on her hips in a wonderful imitation of her mother.

"You two go on without us," Draco told her, gesturing at the portrait hole, "There's something I want to give Granger. We'll meet you there!"

The other couple rolled their eyes but agreed, Blaise offering his arm to Ginny and helping her out the door. Hermione looked up at him in confusion.

"You have something for me?" she inquired, and he nodded.

"Yes. Wait here. I'll be right back," he told her, disappearing into his bedroom. Hermione admired his bum as he left, smiling at her luck in landing a boyfriend who was so nice to look at. Sure, she loved her conversations with Draco, and the time they spent laughing and revising together, but a very female part of her relished in knowing that such a handsome specimen had eyes only for her.

He returned a moment later, a black, velvet box in his right hand. "Here, sweetheart," he said, thrusting the box into her hands, "this is for you."

She lifted the box lid and let out a small gasp. It was a beautiful necklace: a delicate gold chain with a rather large sapphire pendant in middle. The stone was the exact color of her dress and shaped like a teardrop. It was simple and elegant, and conveyed wealth without being gaudy or opulent.

"Draco, what is this for?" she asked, staring dumbfoundedly up at him. The necklace was obviously very expensive with a stone that size.

"Because," he explained, kissing her cheek and pulling the necklace out of the box, "you're lovely, and you deserve to have something nearly as lovely as you are hanging around that pretty neck of yours."

"You're ridiculous. This hardly seems appropriate. Most dates bring flowers, not jewelry!" she lectured, as he moved around to fasten the necklace behind her neck.

"Yes, but most blokes aren't taking Hermione Granger to the ball, now are they?" he countered with a satisfied smirk, admiring the way the sapphire rested between the bones of her clavicle.

"Draco--" she started, but he interrupted her.

"Granger, are we going to do this every time I buy something for you? Because I'm not above bribing you with orphanages and soup kitchens if you'll just accept the things I give you without giving me grief. I like giving you things. Be gracious and give me a kiss so we can go downstairs. I'm quite looking forward to showing you off," he argued, wrapping his arms around her waist.

He's right. I'm being silly and ungrateful. There are worse traits a boyfriend could have than a desire to spoil me. She leaned up and gave him a long, sweet kiss. "Thank you for my beautiful necklace," she told him, pulling away from his lips but leaving her arms around his neck. "You look quite handsome. I'm going to be the envy of all the girls."

He offered her his arm. "That's why I keep you around, Granger. You're good for my ego." She laughed and let him escort her out of the portrait hole and down to the Great Hall.

Dinner had been a lovely affair with an exquisite menu and exciting conversation. Draco and Hermione sat a table with the other eighth year students and their dates. It seemed that while the rest of the school was still determined to give the Head Boy a wide berth, the rest of his year was slowly warming up to him and they all enjoyed a happy meal together, sans Ernie who hadn't showed up. After the meal was complete, the tables were sent to the edges of the room with a flick of the headmistress's wand, and Magician's Assistant, an up-and-coming band, took the stage.

Draco led his witch on to the dance floor and, surrounded by their friends, they danced and sang along to the music. Hermione was quite positive it wasn't what Pansy had in mind for her "gothic masquerade", but she seemed to be having fun all the same, laughing and grinding between Dean and Seamus. At some point in the night, someone passed a secret flask around to the eighth year students, which led to Neville challenging Blaise to a dance off. Terry and Lisa disappeared together, and Draco somehow even convinced a blushing Headmistress McGonagall to share a dance with him. He returned to Hermione's side where she had been sitting with Susan and chuckling at his display with the headmistress.

"Putting the moves on McGonagall, Malfoy?" Daphne joked, coming to sit on Susan's other side. "What is it with you and Gryffindor women?"

He laughed. "There's something irresistible about lions, Daph," he told her with a wink, and Hermione blushed.

As the band announced the last song, a slow melody began to play, and Draco held out his hand to Hermione, who took it and let herself be led out to the crowded dance floor once more. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her a bit closer than the other couples around them, and with her arms around his neck, she rested her head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart and reflecting on their evening.

"Thank you accompanying me tonight," Draco murmured, leaning down to whisper in her ear and placing a light kiss on her neck.

"I've had so much fun, Draco!" she gushed, smiling up at him. He loved the way her gold-flecked eyes crinkled when she gave him a big, uninhibited smile, and chuckled at her hair which was hanging wildly down her back-- it seemed Ginny's sticking and pinning charms were no match for Hermione's mane.

"I'm very glad," he told her earnestly, looking deep into her eyes. He wanted to convey all the things he was feeling- all the ways she made him happier than he'd ever been- but for once, words seemed to be failing him. "You make me so happy, love."

She reached up to give him a kiss. "That's good to know," she said conspiratorially. Then, leaning up to speak directly into his ear, she continued, "I'm wearing something under this dress that I picked out with the exact intention of making you happy. Stay with me tonight?" She gave him a saucy wink and let out a small chuckle at the incredulously stupefied look on her boyfriend's face. He quickly nodded, and she tucked herself back in close to his chest.

After everyone had cleared out of the hall and to their respective common rooms, Hermione and Draco made quick work of cleaning up the Great Hall with a small team of eighth year students. They thanked their friends for the help and made their way to their common room, hand in hand. Draco gave Helga their password, and she smiled widely down at them before opening to their cozy sanctuary.

"Now that I have you all alone, Miss Granger, I believe I was teased with promises of hidden, lacy surprises," Draco cooed, pulling Hermione backwards into his arms, laying sweet kisses all over her exposed shoulders.

"So much for being a gentleman," she chided jokingly, rubbing up against him. Even through the many layers of tulle, she could feel his hardness pressed into her. "What would your mother say if she heard you speaking that way to a lady?"

Draco growled. "Hang being a gentleman! A naughty, little witch promised me improper things, and I'm an opportunist, if nothing else."

Hermione laughed and turned to face the blond man, reaching up to give him a searing, passionate kiss. Then, pulling him by the lapels of his coat, she led him to her bedroom. Once inside, she peeled off his jacket, still kissing him, and began frantically unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his lovely, alabaster skin. Once she had his shirt completely unbuttoned, she pushed him onto the bed and began unlacing the ribbon that held up the corseted top of her dress. Draco watched, transfixed, as the dress slowly pooled at her feet, revealing emerald lingerie- a strapless bra and tiny knickers that revealed her entire bum. With her wild hair, kiss-reddened lips, and sinful lingerie, she looked like she'd been plucked straight out of every wet dream he'd ever had.

"Hermione," he marveled, eyes raking over her form as she slinked towards him, the very picture of temptation.

"See something you like?" she quipped, a smirk painting her pretty features, as she crawled into his lap on her bed.

He tried to catch his breath, but she was so tremendously beautiful and he was so painfully hard that unnecessary things like breathing became impossible. "You," he sputtered, "are so incredibly lovely. How in the bloody hell did I get so lucky?"

"Oh hush," she chided, "I'm the lucky one. Did you see how many girls were eyeing you tonight? You looked so wonderful in your muggle suit; like a prince out of a fairytale book!" She smiled down at him. "I thought tonight we could… maybe try something new," she hesitantly intoned, bashfulness suddenly taking over for the self-assured vixen she'd been moments before.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he told her, pulling her down to for another intense kiss that left them both breathless as she pushed him onto his back and ground down on him. He let out a groan and flipped them over so he could hover over her.

"Touch me, Draco," she beckoned in a hushed tone. He quickly complied, moving to gently run his left hand up the back of her thigh while his right held him up as he continued their kiss. She shivered at his touch and let him continue his innocent roaming of the sensitive skin of the back of her legs and bum. Not exactly what I had in mind, she thought, as his left hand had tentatively found a home grabbing her arse. Perhaps a nudge, she thought, grabbing his left hand and placing it on her stomach. Draco broke away from the feverish kisses he had been placing on her neck to give her a sort of deer in the headlights look. She chuckled a little, as it became clear her hapless beau wasn't quite sure what she wanted from him, and placed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling him down so she could climb atop and straddle him. Here goes nothing, she encouraged herself as she reached behind her back to unhook the clasp of her brassiere.

Draco felt as though someone had cast an immobulus spell on him. The most beautiful witch he could imagine was sitting astride him, giving him a sexy smirk, and then suddenly, before he realized what was going on, she had made quick work of her emerald bra and he was getting his first eye full of her fantastic chest. This must be what Galahad felt like when he discovered the Holy Grail, he thought, mesmerized at the sight before him. He'd seen breasts in the naughty magazines Blaise had nicked from his older half-brothers, but nothing he'd ever seen before could compare to the saucy little witch currently on top of him, whose globes were the perfect size and wonderfully perky, capped with lovely pink nipples that were already hard. He longed to pop one in his mouth. In fact, he wanted to bury his face in between Hermione's lovely breasts and never leave.

"Touch me, Draco," Hermione again prompted, her voice huskier than he had ever heard before. He rested his hands on her hips, running them slowly up her sides until he reached his quest. He took a breast in each hand, weighing them in his palms, and then giving a little squeeze. Hermione let out an excited whimper, which spurred on her Slytherin, who began squeezing more insistently before moving to roll her right nipple between his fingers, making it stand to even more prominent attention. Hermione squealed and bent down to kiss him, hitting her still-covered clit with each motion across the hardness in his pants. Draco pulled Hermione up a bit and began sucking on her nipples, leaving love bites on first the left and then the right, while grinding up into her, meeting her thrust for thrust. It wasn't long before she came, with his ministrations to her chest coupled with the delicious friction on her nether regions, and he soon followed, the sound of him grunting her name muffled into her chest.

After their coupling, Draco pulled Hermione into his side, both catching their breaths. A sheen of sweat covered both of their scantily clad bodies, and expressions of euphoria were on both of their faces. Draco seemed to recover before Hermione and turned on his side, hand propping up his head as he studied the lovely witch laying beside him.

"What're you staring at?" she asked with a satisfied smirk, peering up at him.

"Admiring all the wonderful spots you have covering your chest," he told her, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose. "You look well and truly marked, love."

She looked down at the love bites covering her chest. "Hmm, so it would seem," she told him. "I suppose my boyfriend is a bit of a territorial wizard. Wants to go around branding me, as if anyone else sees me topless."

He laughed. "Oh no, this is all for my benefit. I like seeing you covered in my marks. I don't need another bloke to see them. I know you're mine," he asserted.

"Now wait a moment, Draco. We've talked about this. I don't belong to anyone," she pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine fine, you don't belong to anyone, independent witch that you are. I, however, very much belong to you. And should you decide one day to concede a bit of yourself to me, I would gladly accept it," he said with a quick kiss to her lips. "Now then, sweetheart, let's not go about crossing your arms in bed, okay? I feel like I was just given new toys and to take them away now would be very cruel, indeed."

She snorted. "A toy? Is that all I am to you, then?" she joked.

"Of course not!" he joked, his haughty tone laced with mock indignity. "You're a deity, love. I worship this beautiful mouth, your lovely eyes, and brilliant mind. And I would leave sacrifices at the altar of these breasts. My heart being the first sacrifice. Now leave me to my worship in peace." He winked at her, leaning down to lavish little kisses all over her chest again, tickling her with the scratchy whiskers of his unshaved stubble.

They woke up the next morning completely entwined with each other, wrapped in Hermione's sheets. Draco's light snores were the first thing Hermione heard, and she chuckled at the little pool of drool sitting on the pillow under his mouth. She loved that she got to see little aspects of Draco that he kept closely guarded from the rest of the world. She laid a kiss on his bare chest over his heart and turned to climb out of bed, hoping not to rouse her sleeping beauty.

"Just where do you think you're going?" she heard a sleepy voice question from behind her as two pale arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her back into bed.

She laughed as Draco rested his face on her chest, nestling himself between her breasts. "I'm going to breakfast, sir. I have homework to do today, and I promised Ginny we'd go for a walk by the lake later," she told him in her swottiest voice.

"A walk by the lake with Red, hmm? Discussing anything exciting?" he asked, as he popped a nipple into his mouth and began to suck, running his tongue around the little bud.

"I haven't any idea what you're talking about," she replied indignantly, though she had to admit she didn't sound as menacing as she would have liked to. I need to find a top. I can't get any rational thinking done with Draco's tongue doing that to my chest. She pulled away from him, grabbing his shirt off her floor and quickly pulling it on. Draco gave her an appreciative glance. Naked Hermione was his favorite Hermione, but Hermione in his clothing certainly wasn't a bad alternative.

"No? Not going to discuss your devilishly handsome boyfriend or his love for you in emerald?" he guessed, resting his hands behind his head and looking quite smug.

"Not everything revolves around you, Mr. Conceited," she replied, though she turned away from him towards her window, hoping he wouldn't see the telltale blush on her cheeks that would indicate that those were her and Ginny's exact plans for their walk. "Now, I need you out of bed. I'm going to shower and get ready, and you should do the same. Don't you and Neville have a project you should be working on today in the greenhouses?"

He laughed. "All right, all right- I'm up. No need to lecture any longer, I'll go willingly," he mocked, holding his hands up in surrender. She thought she saw him crossing to the bathroom door, but before she knew it, she was swept up in his arms. "I'll go willingly for a price, anyway," he whispered into her ear. She could hear the smirk in his voice as he pulled her in close to him.

She wrapped her hands around him, grabbing his arse. "What are your terms, Mr. Malfoy?" she inquired, grinning up at him.

"I'm a simple man, Miss Granger," he told her with mock pompousness, leaning down to rest his forehead on hers. "One kiss, please."

She rolled her eyes, but reach up to touch her lips to his in a sweet and simple kiss. "Now then," she said, swotting his behind and sending him towards the door, "I'm a very busy woman."

She corralled him out of her bedroom, and was pulling out clothing to take into the bathroom with her, when she heard Draco's frantic yell from his bedroom.

"Hermione!" he called. "Sweetheart, come here!"

She hurried through the bathroom to his bedroom, to see him standing beside his bed, still only wearing his pants, and clutching a piece of parchment.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned at the look of fear on his face.

He handed her the parchment. In dark, pointed, menacing letters it read, "Involved with a mudblood, Malfoy? I expected better of you. Now you will both pay, blood traitor."

Chapter Text

Ch. 19- On Aurors and Fights

"We have to take this to Professor McGonagall." Hermione had dropped the note on Draco's bed and was moving to head back to her room to get dressed.

"I don't know if we should, Granger," Draco told her, picking the parchment up to read it again. Hermione glared at him.

"Don't be thick. She's the headmistress. She should know that someone broke into her school," Hermione told him, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I think this is something we should give straight to Potter and Weasley," Draco said, moving to his wardrobe to pull out a pair of trousers and a jumper.

She rolled her eyes. "We can floo call them from her office, then. Now," she said, glancing at the clock on his bedside table, "I'll meet you in the common room in ten minutes."

She headed to the loo to brush her teeth, before charging back into her room to get dressed. She took special care to make sure she wore a shirt that was cut high enough that the headmistress wouldn't see the marks all over her chest. She pulled her unruly hair back into a quick plait and headed down the stairs to meet Draco.

The blonde in question was already there, sitting on the sofa, a grim look on his face and the note clutched in his hand. It seemed that he had not had the frame of mind to cover up the marks adorning his skin.

"Draco! You have to change your shirt. We're going to see the headmistress- I don't want her to see your neck," she told him bossily with exasperation in her voice, waving her hand about at the spots adorning his skin.

He looked up when he realized that she had entered the room, and his eyes softened at her exasperation. Trust Granger to be concerned about making a good impression on McGonagall when there's a lunatic after us. "I didn't put these marks here, love. That was all you. You don't think the headmistress will admire your handiwork?" he asked innocently, in contrast to his mischievous smirk.

"If you'd like for her to make us move back to Gryffindor tower and the dungeons then, by all means, leave it. I was under the impression you liked sharing a private common room with me. My mistake," she sassed back, crossing her arms now, and tapping her right foot in annoyance.

Draco paled at the realization that Hermione was probably right and quickly ran off to his room to change. When he came back, he was in a button down shirt that covered distinctly more of his neck, but unfortunately Hermione's marks were still too high to be completely covered.

"I don't know what you want me to do, you little vampire. I can't very well cover these!" He pointed to two marks under his jaw line. Hermione pulled him close and did an impressive glamour.

"There," she declared, satisfied that the marks should stay covered for a while. "You should be set for a bit. Now then, let's go."

The headmistress read the note for, what felt like, the hundredth time, as her Head Students studied her expression intently, sitting in chairs opposite her desk.

"Well, this is certainly something," she finally remarked, setting the parchment down on her desk and lifting her eyes to Draco and Hermione. "I take it this is true, then? The two of you are involved?"

Hermione's cheeks grew red, but she nodded, while Draco let out a clipped, "Yes, Professor."

McGonagall gave them an appraising look for several seconds, and then slowly nodded. "A lot of things Andromeda told me are beginning to make a lot more sense," she told them, giving them a small smile. "Let's wait for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to arrive with the other Aurors before we make any decisions." She got up from her desk and crossed the room to look out the window.

Draco looked over at Hermione, who had her hands folded in her lap and her head downcast. She looked tired, and he knew it wasn't due to lack of sleep. "Hey," he whispered, trying not to draw McGonagall's attention. Hermione lifted her eyes to look at him. "It's all going to be okay, Granger."

She gave him a weak smile and reached her hand out to rest on his knee, watching as he covered her small hand with his own and squeezed it. This is all my fault, she thought. And now I've dragged Draco into this mess, as well. She sighed and looked up at Draco again to find his lovely, silver eyes studying her with concern. When they heard a commotion in the hallway, she withdrew her hand, and they both turned in their chairs to face the door. A minute later Harry and Ron burst through the door, followed by a tall, lanky man with salt and pepper hair and a thick beard. Harry reached Hermione first, pulling her out of her chair and into a tight hug, that Ron soon joined, the two sandwiching her between them.

"We came as quickly as we could, Hermione," Ron explained, releasing her. Harry had yet to let go.

"Harry, this isn't necessary. I'm fine!" Hermione told her best friend, attempting to extract herself from his grip. "Nothing has happened yet. It wasn't really even me that was threatened, it was Draco."

"But something could have happened!" he told her, finally releasing her from his hug but still keeping a grasp on her upper arms.

"Mr. Potter, kindly release the lady and let her return to her seat," the stranger scolded, stepping further into the room. "You are here as an Auror, not as her friend."

Harry sighed and gave the man a quick nod. "This is Auror Windermere," he explained, holding out his hand in presentation. "He's the veteran Auror that I've been assigned to shadow for the rest of my training. Auror Windermere, this is Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy."

Draco stood up to shake the man's hand, and Hermione followed behind him. The man gave her a firm, professional shake and a nod. "Ms. Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you. It's a bit atypical to have two trainees on a case, but Mr. Weasley was insistent. I hope that's alright with you. If this situation escalates, we'll put another full time auror on your case as well, but with the string of recent attacks on muggleborns, I'll admit we're stretched rather thin at the moment."

"You don't think it's a good idea to put two people on her case from the start? She's the most famous muggleborn there is for Merlin's sake!" Draco argued, crossing his arms.

"Draco, hush," Hermione scolded.

"No, Hermione. They aren't taking this seriously. Thank Circe for Weasley and Potter, or they might not have sent anyone out at all," he grumbled, looking down at the Auror who was shorter than the blond.

"Mr. Malfoy, that will do," the headmistress admonished, and Draco sank back into his seat, arms still crossed and muttering darkly under his breath.

"We'd like for you to describe what exactly happened, please," Harry explained, taking out a piece of parchment and a pen.

"This morning, I found the note on my bed. You can read it, it's sitting there," Draco explained, pointing at the note on McGonagall's desk.

Auror Windermere picked up the note to study it, and Harry continued, "And you just found it this morning? It wasn't there last night?" Hermione blushed, realizing Draco hadn't been in his room last night. Professor McGonagall is going to be so upset when we tell her that…

"I didn't go to my room last night. Granger and I fell asleep talking in our common room after the dance," Draco easily lied, shrugging with nonchalance, the picture of cool.

"I see," Harry remarked, smirking just a little at Hermione's unmistakably flustered blush. "So someone could have left the note anytime after you left for the dance?"

Draco nodded, and Harry continued to make notes while Ron asked the headmistress about the school's wards. Hermione shot Draco a grateful smile, which did not go unnoticed by Auror Windermere.

"I must admit, Mr. Malfoy, I am surprised to learn you've taken up with a muggleborn witch," the Auror told Draco, eyeing him warily.

"And why is that?" Draco spat back, crossing his arms again. He didn't like this man and wasn't going to make any attempts to hide that fact.

"I mean no disrespect. I'm just surprised you were able to overcome your prejudices so quickly," he intoned, clearly suspicious of Draco's motives.

Draco was about to retort, when Hermione jumped in, leaning over him. "With all due respect, sir, Draco hasn't done anything to warrant your suspicion and I'd like it if you would stop speaking to him in that tone," she cautioned, taking Draco's hand in hers and drawing the attention of her best friends and headmistress, who had previously been occupied with their own discussion.

Windermere smiled condescendingly down at her. "I do apologize, Miss Granger. You'll understand if I'm a bit… flummoxed by the turn of events that led to your relationship and--"

"Be that as it may," she interrupted, standing now and moving in front of where Draco was still sitting in his chair, "who I date doesn't concern you. Someone is threatening muggleborns, and you're concerned with my relationship status?"

Harry could see this was going nowhere fast, so he decided to intervene. "Malfoy, can you think of anyone who might have sent this to you?"

Draco laughed humorlessly. "Have you spoken to my father? I'm sure he's chuffed about a lot of the choices I've been making lately. He couldn't be out killing people, of course, but maybe he knows something about it?"

Harry nodded. "That's a good idea. We should head out to Azkaban sometime this week," he said to Ron, before turning to seek the approval from Auror Windermere, who was still glaring at a seething Hermione.

Ron cleared his throat. "We should be off. We have to take this, Malfoy," he explained, picking up the note and placing a stasis charm on it, before tucking it into an inside pocket of his robes.

Auror Windermere moved over to shake the headmistress' hand. "Thank you for your help. We'll examine your wards on our way out, and with your permission, I'd like to place two magical law enforcement officers in the castle for the time being," he told her. Then, giving a curt nod to Hermione and Draco, he walked out of the office. Harry and Ron both accepted a quick peck on the cheek from Hermione and exchanged nods with Draco before they followed.

"Well then, I'm sure you both have quite a lot to be getting on with today. Please keep me informed of anything that might occur with this situation. Miss Granger, you're dismissed. Mr. Malfoy, if you wouldn't mind staying behind for a moment- I'd like a word."

Hermione gave Draco a worried look, but he gave her a wink and a small, private smile. "Go on, Granger. I'll see you back in the common room," he told her, and she hurried out of the office.

Well that was hardly a productive meeting, she thought to herself, as she travelled back down the secret tunnel through Rowena's portrait. We didn't accomplish anything! They're placing law enforcement officers here but no one has any clue how some lunatic broke into our common room, and then that prat of an Auror spoke to Draco as if he were a criminal! She opened the door with the password and threw herself down on the couch. Twenty minutes later, she heard the door open and Draco's graceful stride across the floor. She heard him cross to his room and sat up in time to see him leave his room with a bottle of firewhiskey in hand.

"Draco…" she warned, but he continued to cross to the kitchen and grab a glass.

"I'm not going to get pissed, but I need a drink, Granger. It's not even ten in the morning and already someone wants both of us dead. Shall I get you a glass as well?" he asked, giving her an annoyed expression.

"It's ten in the morning! Of course not!" she exclaimed. He rolled his eyes as he poured his glass and then came to sit beside her. She waited until he had settled in and taken a long drink before asking, "So… what did Professor McGonagall want with you?"

He sighed and set his glass down on the table beside him, turning to pull Hermione into his lap and nuzzling his nose into her neck. He mumbled something inaudible that was muffled by her skin, and she gave him an annoyed groan when he started placing kisses on her shoulder over the fabric of her shirt.

"Draco, stop that. I have loads I still need to accomplish today, so if we aren't going to talk about this, I'm going to the library," she scolded, annoyed that he wanted to snog at a time like this. She made to move off his lap, but he pulled her back tighter to his chest.

"Okay okay, fine. We can talk about it. But stay here, please- being near you is helping me calm down," he explained in a quiet voice, and she turned in his lap to straddle him so she could make eye contact with him. She ran her hands through his silky hair, lightly scratching his scalp in the way that he liked, and watching as, slowly, the tense muscles in his shoulders unclenched.

"Now then," she soothed, "would you like to tell me why you're all fired up?"

He sighed. "This whole thing is stupid, really. You're being threatened, the Aurors don't seem fussed, and then you go and make me feel like one of your ruddy house elves in front of that arse of an Auror."

Her nose wrinkled as her face scrunched in confusion."House elves?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Yes, Granger. You take pity on all the poor creatures and rush to their defense. First that mad hippogriff and then the house elves and that SPEW nonsense… now me. I can't help but feel like I'm just another one of your projects."

He saw the fire in her eyes and immediately knew he had said the wrong thing. "You listen here, Draco Malfoy! First, it's S.P.E.W. not SPEW!" She had leapt off his lap to tower over him and was going off on a full tirade now. "Second, wasn't it you that lectured me about taking care of one another?"

He rolled his eyes. "Taking care of each other, sure. But I can't help but feel like you've been doing a lot more of that than I have lately. You don't always have to rush in and defend me! I'm not Weasley or Potter!"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" She threw her hands out in exasperation, a sharp, challenging look across her face, practically daring him to insult her best friends and make the situation worse.

He stood up, then, and she was briefly taken aback by just how much taller than her he was. It hadn't really struck her before, as he typically didn't tower, but now he was looming over her with indignation in his mercurial eyes. "You don't have to mother me, Granger! I'm a big boy who made a lot of bad decisions. There are going to be people who want me to atone for that, and honestly, I probably deserve a lot of the shit that's aimed at me, anyway." He sighed, running both hands through his hair and collapsing back on to the couch as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "I don't want you to put yourself in their line of fire for me all the time. I want to prove to the rest of the world, and maybe to myself a little, that I'm the sort of bloke who is worthy of you, and I can't do that if you go around fighting all my battles for me."

She rolled her eyes. "You're being incredibly thick," she told him, with her hands resolutely on her hips in a perfect imitation of the headmistress.

"Would you come back here, please?" he asked, indicating the couch beside him, and she tentatively moved to sit again. He made to pull her close again, but she shook her head.

"None of that. I'm still annoyed with you," she explained icily, and he groaned, grabbing his firewhiskey and downing the rest of the glass in one pull. He got up to pour himself another, watching as Hermione gave him a disapproving look. Sod it all, maybe I will get pissed at ten o'clock on a Sunday morning.

From his spot at the counter, he apprehensively met her eyes. "I don't know what you want from me, Granger. I'm not going to lie to you and pretend I'm fine. I'm fucking scared for your life and I'm annoyed that I can't protect you." He let out a long breath, and continued in a resigned tone, "Every part of me is convinced my father is involved somehow. Honestly, what good am I?" He wiped his palm down his face, and let it fall to rest on the counter, shoulders slumping.

"Draco," she placated, walking over to the kitchen where he was now refusing to make eye contact with her. "Sweetheart, please look at me," she asked in her most mollifying tone, grabbing his face between her hands, and forcing him to meet her eyes. He took in the gentle curve of her pursed lips and the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, before finally taking in the imploring look in her eyes, willing him to understanding. "I don't need you to protect me. We've been over this before." He made to interrupt her, but she shook her head. "Don't interrupt. As I was saying, I don't need you to protect me. Or to stress about not being able to protect me. But I appreciate that you want to." She leaned up to give him a gentle kiss on the lips and released his face, resting her hands on his broad shoulders. "We'll protect each other, yeah?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "Stop making it sound so easy, Granger. There's a fucking madman on the loose who has chosen to single me out. That makes you a target."

"Oh please," she attempted to joke in a tone laced with false levity, "I would have been a target with or without you. I'm the most famous muggleborn in England, remember?" She smirked at him, but he just continued to sulk. Looking at his pouty face, she instantly became annoyed with him again. "Draco, I'm not going to do this all the time. I'm not going to reassure you that I want you in my life every time something goes wrong. You've got to get over this self-deprecating codswallop. You're not the one out killing muggleborns and breaking into Hogwarts to leave threats. That's not your fault. Stop blaming yourself for everything. I'm getting tired of it." Then she grabbed her bag off the floor and stormed out the door to the library, leaving a dumbfounded Draco leaning against the counter, clutching his empty firewhiskey glass, and wondering what the hell he should do with himself now.

Draco found that sitting on the couch wasn't doing anything to improve his mood, and he had already sent a note to Neville explaining that today wasn't a good day to work on their herbology project, so he found himself down at the quidditch pitch. For a beautiful, but chilly, November afternoon, the pitch was surprisingly deserted. He kicked off the ground and soared into the air, enjoying the way the wind almost painfully licked his face when he picked up speed. He swooped and dived, dipping around the goal posts and then shooting back up into the air at lightning speed. He was so lost in his own little world, pushing everything out of his mind except his broom and the sky in front of him, that he failed to notice another figure had joined him on the pitch.

"Trying to kill yourself, Malfoy?" Ginny called up at him from the ground, clutching her broom in her right hand with a quaffle tucked under her arm. He looked down to where she was standing on the pitch, shielding her eyes from the sun with the opposite hand and smiling up at him. He flew down to see her, hovering 10 meters above the ground.

"What's that, Red?"

"The way you were flying around like a mad man, the best I can make out you have a death wish," she teased and hopped on her broom to fly up to meet him. "Would you like to tell me why you're flying around out here like a wild hippogriff while Hermione's angrily scratching away at a potions essay and refusing to go on a walk with me?"

He sighed. "I think we got into a fight," he explained and Ginny burst into laughter.

At Draco's dirty look she asked, "You think?"

"Well I'm not entirely sure if I should call it a fight. She's pissed at me, that's for sure," he explained, flying off a bit and catching the quaffle Ginny had tossed his way.

"What happened?" she asked, and Draco began relaying the story while they tossed the ball back and forth.

Ginny listened, careful not to interrupt, and waited for him to be done. When it seemed he was finished, she asked, "So you think Hermione's mad that you were feeling sorry for yourself?"

He rolled his eyes. "I wasn't feeling sorry for myself, Red. She deserves better than me on my best days, and today was not my best day. She's always going to be rushing to my defense. I'm a selfish bastard, but even I can't let her live like that."

"You're an idiot," Ginny told him simply, and he glared at her and waited for her to continue, chucking the quaffle none too gently in her direction. She sighed, catching the ball and tucking it under her arm as she flew a bit closer to her blonde friend. "First off, Hermione isn't the kind of girl to stay with someone for the sake of it. If she was, she'd still be with Ron. She's with you because of who you are, and if you keep making her explain that to you, she's going to keep getting irritated. I know I am already." He huffed, but she continued. "Also, I highly doubt that's why she's so miffed. I mean, I'm sure she's a bit annoyed with you, because you're behaving like a needy, spoiled child, but it's not like Hermione to get so worked up about something like this."

Draco fixed her with a beseeching look in his eyes, begging her to connect the dots for him. She sighed, shaking her head at his cluelessness. As much as he'd like to think otherwise, he's really not that different from Ron, she thought. Then again, Harry would be in the same boat. Morons, the lot of them. She gave him a small, sad smile and leaned a bit closer to him.

"Draco, she must be terrified," she explained in a voice much softer than was normal for the spitfire. Draco could see her hazel eyes sparkling with grief and fear for her closest friend and felt a sudden rush of guilt. "Some lunatic is out there targeting people just like her. She won't tell you that she's scared, of course, because she's so used to putting on a brave face and taking care of everyone… but she needs you to be the strong one. She can't be the one always comforting you and your fragile ego. Especially about this." Her expression was firm and honest, and Draco looked down to see her fists clenched in her lap. He took a moment to marvel at the strength of Ginny's affection for his girlfriend, which was evident not just in her worried tone and tense body language, but also in the way that she had taken time to track him down and sort him out for Hermione's benefit.

I made the whole thing this morning about me and how I feel when she defends me. I didn't even think about how she's taking all of this. Draco looked down at the shiny broom handle under his palms. "I am an idiot," he confirmed, and Ginny chuckled.

"Right then," she confirmed, tossing the quaffle back in his direction, "how are you going to fix this?"

"I don't know…" he answered distractedly, missing the quaffle Ginny threw at him and diving for it.

She flew down to meet him, and her heart clenched sadly at the sight of his dejected posture, head hung and shoulders hunched. She reached out and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You'll think of something," she assured him with a smile.

Hermione crept into the common room as quietly as possible. It was close to midnight and she didn't want to wake Draco. After she had finished all of her homework for the next three weeks and helped a group of third year hufflepuffs with a transfiguration assignment, she paid a visit to Luna, and the two had spent several hours chatting about the mating patterns of the Coraniaid- "you know, more recently they tend to migrate to Africa for Yule, Hermione"- and her burgeoning relationship with the youngest male Weasley- "he bit my lip the last time I saw him. He was embarrassed, I think, but I rather liked it". Hermione loved that her moony, blond haired friend was capable of completely distracting her, never imposingly asking what was wrong, but subtly letting Hermione know that she had a friend who would listen if she needed it.

She tiptoed across the floor to her room, but when her hand touched the doorknob she heard the sound of a throat clearing, and she turned to see Draco laying on the couch, reading a book and clearly waiting for her.

"Can we talk, Granger?" he asked, setting his book down and sitting up.

"It's late, Draco," she told him, turning back to her door.

"Sweetheart, please," he asked, and she could hear the desperation in his voice. She took a steadying breath and turned to face him, nodding. She moved to the sofa, careful to sit beside him, but not too close. "I'm sorry," he breathed out the second she sat down.

"What for?" she asked him, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear and giving him her full attention.

"I was a petty child. I know you like to protect people- it's in your nature and one of the reasons I'm mad about you. I made this morning all about me… I'm sorry I was too thick to see past myself." She looked into his earnest eyes, glowing orange by the light of the fireplace, and could see just how guilty he felt.

"It's okay, Draco," she told him, moving into his embrace on the couch.

"I didn't mean to get so worked up. I'm going to do a better job of being there for you, love. I promise," he vowed and placed a kiss on the top of her head. They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the dwindling fire and taking comfort in each other. Then, Hermione remembered something.

"Draco?"

"Yes, love?"

"What did Professor McGonagall want this morning?"

He buried his face in her hair for a moment. Then, quietly, he told her, "She wanted to tell me that she's proud of me."

Hermione turned to face him on the couch. Though half of her face was in shadow, he could tell that she was smiling brightly up at him. "That's wonderful! What did she say?"

"Just that she could tell I was working hard as Head Boy. She said she knew that I was capable of being a good man, and she was happy to see we were working well together."

"Oh Draco," she cooed, leaning up to kiss him sweetly on the lips. He sighed, taking in the light emanating from her lovely eyes and the affection that radiated from her happy smile. He could feel fondness and admiration rolling off of her in waves, and felt that he could bask forever in the glow of her esteem.

He blushed, and gave her a quick kiss on the nose. "C'mon, Granger," he said, standing up and offering her his hand. "Let's go to bed."

She took his hand and followed him into her bedroom, where they cuddled down into her bedding together.

Chapter Text

Ch. 20- On Nightmares and Parents

That night, Hermione had her first nightmare in months. She woke up screaming and sweating, and Draco didn't know what to do. After she realized where she was, and that she wasn't in danger, she began crying and he held her, kissing her temple and petting her hair, reassuring her that she was safe.

"It's been months," she cried into his chest. "I haven't had a nightmare in months!" She continued to weep, covering Draco's naked chest in her tears. After almost an hour, it seemed she had finally cried everything out, wilting against Draco. "I'm sorry," she told him, quietly.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" he asked, kissing the top of her head and adjusting his hold around her.

"Oh, come off it, Draco. I'm behaving rather pathetically."

"You're not--" he started to reassure her, but she cut him off.

"I am so! Having nightmares over nothing…" she shook her head.

A moment passed. Then, " I still have nightmares, Granger. Until very recently, anyway."

She peered up at him. "Really?"

He nodded slowly and let out a long sigh. "Every night until we started sharing a bed." She reached up to stroke his face, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. "You're not pathetic, love. You're coping."

"It was… it's always the same. It's always her. She's on top of me and I can't move. It's so realistic, it's like I can feel her putrid breath on my face and see the murder in her eyes." Her breathing started to get heavier and Draco knew that if he didn't calm her down she'd have a full fledged panic attack.

"It's okay. I've got you. You're safe," he cooed into her ear, rubbing his hand up and down her back slowly.

She snuggled into his arms, nuzzling his neck with her face. They stayed that way for awhile, and she let his comforting smell and the rhythmic patterns he was tracing on her back lull her into a steady calm. Hermione shifted to look up at him, and brought her right hand up to lazily run through his silky hair. "Draco?"

"Yes, love?"

"What are yours about?"

He sighed. "I don't know if I want to share that…"

"I'm sorry," she immediately apologized, "I shouldn't have pried. It's not my business." She unwound herself from around him and turned over, but immediately felt Draco pulling her back into his arms, spooning her. He brushed her hair up to nuzzle the back of her neck, laying a light kiss there.

"That's not what I meant, sweetheart. It's not like I want to keep things from you. You can know whatever about me that you'd like… But my part in the war is a heavy burden, and that's mine. I don't want to put that on you."

"Draco," she whispered into the darkness, "you can share anything with me. I don't want you to shoulder things alone."

She felt him shake his head. "Granger, you can't even begin to imagine the things I've seen. The things I had to do."

"No, I suppose I can't. But I had to do things that still haunt me, too." She began running her fingernails gently up and down the pale arms that were wrapped around her.

They laid there in silence for a moment, and Hermione watched the shadows that danced along the wall, listening to the steady sound of Draco's breathing. The moon was shining in through her window and illuminating Baum's typewriter, where it sat in a place of honor on her bookshelf. She thought Draco had fallen asleep, so when he spoke again, it startled her.

"Do you want to talk about it, Granger?" he whispered so softly she barely heard it.

"Talk about what, Draco?" she asked, just as quietly.

"The things that haunt you. Would it help you to tell me about it?"

She sighed. "It's mostly my parents, Draco."

"You've never really told me what happened, love."

"We don't have to talk about me, Draco. I offered to listen to your story."

He sighed. "I know. I'm not ready to talk about it yet… but as soon as I am, I'll let you know. For now, if you want to talk, I can listen."

She considered flipping over to look at him, but thought better of it, taking solace in the fact that she could stare off into the room. "I had to obliviate them. My parents. I modified their memories so that they would think they were other people and would move away. I removed myself from their memories." She had started crying again, and Draco felt the telltale wetness on his arms, but she kept talking and he didn't want to interrupt. "I sent them away to protect them, but it didn't work, and they were tracked down anyway. Death Eaters found them and killed them and it's all my fault, because if I weren't a witch they never would have been targets."

"Hermione, love…" Draco started, but she interrupted.

"What I did, though? I think that's probably the worst part. I took away their identities. They were buried as Monica and Wendell Wilkins in Australia. Away from family and friends who loved them… away from me." She was full on weeping again. She'd never spoken about this aloud before, having gone away before her friends could pry this much out of her. She'd never told anyone how guilty she felt. Sure, after she had initially done the spell she had admitted to Ginny a small amount of guilt in stripping her parents of their memories and sending them away, but that had been for a purpose and her friend had reassured her of that fact, which made her feel better. But knowing that it hadn't worked made her feel even worse, as it had all been for nothing.

In her months away she had pushed down these feelings, running from place to place, so that her emotions and her memories couldn't get the best of her. She missed her parents, yes, but she felt that she might eventually overcome that. But taking away their identities? That she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to forgive herself for. She attempted to explain this, through her breathy blubbering, to Draco, who understood the gist of what she was saying, even if some of her words were lost or muddled. Huge sobs racked her small body and Draco held her as she cried herself to sleep.

Long after she had fallen asleep Draco lay awake, thinking about her. Her greatest regret is what she had to do to protect the people she loved… my biggest regret is what I didn't do to protect her. He lay there, disgusted with himself, unable to leave her side despite knowing he would never be good enough for her. It was those unsettling thoughts that plagued him as, slowly, he drifted off into sleep as well.

The next morning, Hermione was out of bed, showered, and was already heading down to breakfast when Draco finally woke up. She was packing her sack and almost ready to head out the portrait hole when she heard him stumble out of her bedroom.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty!" Hermione called over to him, as he ambled about, half awake. He groaned at her chipper tone and headed to his own bedroom. She followed, distractedly straightening out her maroon tie and pulling up a knee sock. Walking in on Draco as he attempted to divest himself of his sleep trousers for a shower, she let out a surprised, "Oops!" and shielded her eyes with her hands.

"Can I help you with something, Granger?" he asked grumpily, taking in her pristine uniform, from her shiny black flats to her tidy plait. She's completely ready for classes- how did she get out of bed and rush around her room without waking me?

"You're going to miss breakfast, dear. You were sleeping so soundly, and I didn't want to wake you. Want me to bring you something to Advanced Arithmancy?" she asked, still shielding her eyes with her palm.

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind," he answered. When she made no move to leave he continued, "Was there anything else, or can I take a shower now?"

"I just… I wanted to say--"

"Oh good Godric! You can put your hand down, I'm still wearing pants," he groused, and she put her hand down, raising an eyebrow at his surly tone. "Sorry… I didn't sleep much last night," he explained exhaustedly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"I'll let you get to your shower. I just wanted to thank you for talking to me last night. I know it probably didn't feel very productive to you, given all the tears, but I woke up today feeling… better. So thank you." She turned to leave, but felt Draco grab her arm, turning her back toward him and pulling her in close. He gave her a long, sweet kiss, wrapping his arms around her hips and holding her close to him.

"You're welcome, love. I wish I could do more… but if listening helps, I'll always be here to do that." He kissed her temple and breathed in the smell of her hair, then, "And I'm sorry for my mood this morning. I'm feeling a bit of... self-loathing, and it's put me in a right state. I shouldn't have taken that out on you, and I'll really try not to in the future. No promises, of course-- I've been known to be a bastard."

She laughed. "At least you're honest." She leaned up to kiss him again, quickly, then turned to leave his room. He thought to himself that he'd never deserve her or her easy forgiveness, something he found himself saying all too often, as of late. He heard the portrait hole door open and shut before he took off his pants and headed for the shower.

Hermione sat at breakfast with Ginny and Neville, buttering her toast and listening as Ginny told them about Molly's unwillingness to let her go away with Blaise for the holiday.

"What are your holiday plans, Hermione?" Neville asked her.

"I hadn't really thought about it, to be honest. It's still a month away," she replied, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

"Oh, Malfoy will ask you to come stay with him," Ginny said, knowingly.

"What makes you think that?" Hermione asked, taking a small bite of her toast.

The redhead rolled her eyes. "He's completely enamored with you, Hermione."

"And what makes you think I'll go with him?"

"You're completely enamored with him, as well!" Ginny responded in exasperation, shoving a mound of eggs in her mouth.

Hermione laughed. "You've got it all figured out, don't you, Gin?"

Ginny snorted, setting down her fork. "Just because you're pretending not to notice how smitten the pair of you are, doesn't mean to rest of us are. You melt as soon as he starts speaking, and he can't focus on anything else when you're in the room. Blaise and I aren't even that bad! It would gross if it wasn't so hilarious to watch the Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince that he is, act all gooey." She punctuated her statement with a comically aggressive bite of sausage.

Hermione was about to reply to her sassy friend, when the post owls came swooping into the Great Hall, and a large, brown owl dropped a note in front of her. She gave the bird a bit of her toast, and seeing that he didn't intend to leave without a reply, she quickly unfurled the scroll. She saw Harry's familiar scrawl and smiled.

Hermione,

Let us know when you're free to meet up on Wednesday- we're going to see Lucius tomorrow and we want to fill you in. Stay safe!

Love, Harry and Ron

P.S. The ferret can come, too.

She smiled- of course they wanted to keep her involved. Wednesdays were the easiest days for her and Draco, both-- Alchemy from 12:30 until 2:00, but otherwise nothing until the prefect meeting at 6:00. She quickly wrote back to the boys, letting them know about her availability, and attached it to the leg of the waiting owl, who immediately flew off.

She didn't get much post anymore- between the Aurors monitoring it (she had a feeling Ron and Harry discarded the junk before it could reach her) and having unsubscribed to the Daily Prophet after the first article about her relationship had come out. It was nice to receive a letter every now and then. She thought back to the letters her parents used to send her, though infrequent, as they had been hesitant to use an owl. Sitting in quiet contemplation, despite the chaos of the hall around her, she reflected on her parents for the second time in the last twelve hours. After the emotional night before, she felt the familiar dull ache in her heart and set down her toast, suddenly unhungry.

"Oi! Hermione! Who was that from?" Ginny asked, interrupting her daze by waving her hand in her friend's face.

"Nosy, aren't you?" Hermione tried to lightheartedly joke, coming out of her stupor and handing Ginny the scroll from Harry and Ron. As Ginny read, Hermione got up to leave for class, double checking that she had remembered all of her books for the day and grabbing Draco some toast, bacon, and an apple.

"Well, hopefully they'll get some answers from the evil tosser. I bet he'd know better than anyone what Death Eater sympathizers are still on the loose," Ginny commented, getting up as well, and walking with Hermione to meet Blaise outside the Great Hall.

"Fingers crossed, Gin," Hermione replied.

"I just don't want you to get your hopes up, Granger," Draco explained, looking into a second floor classroom. They had a perfectly honed system for their Tuesday night patrols, which allowed them to chat and still ensure that they didn't miss anything.

"I'm not getting my hopes up, Draco," she replied, closing the door to the storage closet she was inspecting, a favorite haunt for amorous couples. Draco came up behind her, and when she turned around, he took her hands in his, gazing down at her.

He sighed. "You are. And while I find your unfailing optimism endearing, there's no reason to hold out hope where my father is concerned."

She reached up to caress his cheek, forcing his sad, grey eyes to meet hers. He covered her hand with his own, taking comfort in her touch, before removing her hand and lacing her fingers through his own, continuing their walk.

"I just think it can't hurt," Hermione continued, undeterred. She had been trying to convince Draco to go with her to meet Harry and Ron. She had settled on meeting them at the Leaky Cauldron at 2:30, but she hoped Draco would accompany her so that they could get dinner together afterwards. It had been awhile since they'd been out together.

"If it really means that much to you, I'll go. Why Potter and Weasley are having you come to Diagon Alley when it's not even safe for you to leave the castle, I'll never know," Draco huffed, peering around a corner and shining his lit wand into a secluded alcove. Hermione gently nudged him into said corner and tugged him down to kiss her. Pulling away, she could feel his smile against her lips.

"Snogging in dark alcoves, Miss Granger? That's hardly behavior becoming of the Head Girl," he joked in an eerily uncanny impression of Percy Weasley. She chuckled.

"Thank you for agreeing to come with me," she told him, lacing her fingers through the baby soft hair at the nape of his neck. He smiled down at her, looping his arms around her waist.

"Whatever makes you happy, I suppose," he told her with a shrug. Then, lightly swatting her on the bum he said, "Now come on, we still have to do the ground floor and the dungeons. We need to finish rounds if we're going to make it back to our common room in time for you to pick my brain about the Advanced Transfiguration assignment."

"What makes you think I want to talk to you about that?" she asked, stepping back into the light of the hall and nonchalantly smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her skirt. She had been planning on asking him about the assignment, of course, but she hadn't given him any indication that she had those plans.

"Granger darling," he started in his most arrogant voice, peeking into a well used broom closet, "when you're as clever and handsome as I am, you always know what your witch wants." He heard an indelicate snort.

"Is that so?" she asked, eyebrows raised in question, before turning to shine a light into an empty classroom.

"Oh yes," he replied with a smirk. "This has nothing to do with the 'to do' lists that you leave littered all over your bedroom and everything to do with my uncanny intuition." He winked at her.

She laughed at that, turning to lace her fingers with his. "After graduation you should really consider being a Seer, what with those alarming skills of yours."

He smiled over at her, leading her down the stairs to the ground floor. "I had considered it, you know, but it's such a niche market. What with my only being able to divine your needs and all." He winked at her, delighting in the blush that covered her cheeks, and considering other wonderful ways in which he hoped she'd let him 'divine her needs' back in their common room.

"You'll just have to think of something else, I suppose," she joked, lightly swinging their joined hands back and forth.

"What are your plans after we leave here? I suppose you're going to join Potter and Weasley and become an Auror?" he asked, releasing her hand to peer into a vacated office. He hoped his tone came off as steady, and not as uneasy as he truthfully was about the idea of her running headlong into danger at every turn. He'd had enough of her Gryffindor heroics, even if he knew she was fully capable of handling herself. If she was constantly putting herself in harm's way, he'd surely go gray with worry, which would be a waste of perfect, blonde hair.

She shook her head and he felt his muscles uncoil imperceptibly in relief. "I've never wanted to be an Auror. I've had enough of the dark stuff to last me a lifetime. I'm actually a bit surprised Harry wanted to be an Auror. I suppose you don't have much of a choice when you bring down the most evil wizard of all time… but still. I always imagined him teaching. Or perhaps playing professional Quidditch."

He chuckled. "So you won't be joining the ranks of Aurors. What, then?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I want to make a difference, you know. I thought perhaps Healing, but I think that's still a bit too closely related to the War, in my mind. Lately I've been leaning more towards Magical Law. I'd like to be a solicitor, I think. Represent creatures who don't normally get a fair shake because of antiquated wizarding laws. It would give me a chance to expand my work with S.P.E.W."

He pulled her into his arms, smiling down at her in something akin to awe, as if it were Christmas morning and she were the biggest present under the tree. He knew he'd support her in anything that she wanted to do- and she would certainly be brilliant at anything she decided upon (barring the decision to become a professional Quidditch player)- but using her time to fight for the rights of others was so quintessentially Granger, and it made his heart swell with fondness, both for her predictability and also for her big heartedness. "That sounds just about perfect for you," he told her, nuzzling her temple.

She gave him a chaste kiss before pulling away to look into the Great Hall. Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar were playing some ghostly form of Exploding Snap, but it was otherwise deserted. She reflected, briefly, on all the time she had spent in there: all of the meals with friends, listening as Dumbledore announced Harry would be a Triwizard champion, sitting on that rickety stool while the Sorting Hat deliberated which house to sort her into, sleeping on the floor while the staff searched the castle for Sirius, the magic of Yule Ball, the relief of sitting between Ron and Ginny after the Battle of Hogwarts, knowing that the war was over. It always struck her, when she looked at the empty hall, just how much of her life had happened between those walls. As always, an overwhelming affection consumed her, followed by pressing sadness that, in just a few months, she wouldn't have a reason to come back here ever again. She turned back toward her handsome boyfriend, who had his back to her, checking a secret nook behind a tapestry. "Or maybe I'll come back here and teach," she told him, and he smirked at her, knowing how emotional she got when she thought about leaving Hogwarts in a few short months. The two continued on their patrol in comfortable silence, finishing off the level.

As they made their way down the hall towards the dungeon steps, Hermione asked, "What about you?" He gave her a confused look and she chuckled, continuing, "If you're not going to be a Seer, what are you going to do with your free time?"

He grabbed her hand, helping her down the stairs. "I'll go into the family business. Someone has been running it in my place, of course, since my father was sent to Azkaban, but once I'm done here I'll learn the ropes and eventually take it over." He shrugged.

"You don't sound especially thrilled," she pointed out, shivering a little at the chill that always hung in the air in the dungeons.

Draco removed his wool cloak, draping it around Hermione's much smaller frame, as he explained, "It's not too bad. I mean, I've never been especially excited about the prospect of any kind of work. I'm rich enough that I don't have to, but it's what is expected of me, so I'll do it."

She frowned in his direction. "But if you didn't have to run Malfoy Industries, what would you prefer to be doing?"

A distinct red glow covered his cheeks, and he hung his head to hide a bashful smile. She grabbed his hand, smiling at him and giving him a nod, encouraging him to continue. "We sort of touched on this before. On our first date. All I've ever really wanted to be is a father. I can't wait until I have children of my own…" He paused for a moment, thinking about his own father and all the mistakes Lucius made that Draco was determined not to repeat. "I've never cared what I do, so long as it doesn't prevent me from being around my children. But if I could pick any job in the world… I'd love to be a stay at home father."

She chuckled at his enthusiasm, and his blush grew darker. "I'm not laughing at you, Draco!" At his skeptical look she assured him, "Honest!" She smiled brightly up at him. "Why is it that you're so looking forward to being a father?"

He shrugged. "I like children. I always have, but especially since the war ended I have a newfound fondness for them. Children don't sneer at me or hide from me the way that adults do. They're more forgiving. More… I don't know. Loving, I suppose. And aside from that, I've always sort of thought I'd make a good father. After all, I had a wonderful example of all the things not to do." He snickered bitterly at thoughts of his father. He caught the concerned look on Hermione's face, and gave her a smile that he hoped didn't look too forced. "I'm certainly not in a rush. I know I'm only eighteen. But when the time comes, I'll be thrilled."

She smiled sweetly at him, pulling him along with her to check another classroom. "I think that's wonderful. Not a lot of men would be willing to admit that… especially in the world that you come from. It makes me happy that you feel like you can be open with me."

"Yes, well," he started, running his hand through his hair, his distinct nervous habit that let Hermione know he was feeling uncomfortable. "I have to find the right witch first, I suppose."

Hermione gave him a small, disappointed smile and let go of his hands, walking further down the corridor to the deeper dungeons. "I suppose you do."

"Because, you know," Draco continued nonchalantly, watching the reaction on her face, "not a lot of birds would be okay letting a bloke stay at home…"

"Well, that's just rubbish! Why should it just be assumed it's the woman's job to stay home? That sort of thinking is horribly outdated and ridiculous," she argued, hands gesticulating wildly as she sometimes did when she lectured him.

He smirked. "I agree."

She met his eye and realized that he had been testing her. She blushed. "So I suppose you'll just have to land yourself a witch who is more… forward thinking."

He shrugged. "I'm pretty happy with the witch I have," he told her with a wink, turning to shine his wand into the darkened potions classroom.

The Leaky Cauldron was packed. Stuffy, loud, and oddly odorous, the pub felt alive with activity. Hermione and Draco sat at a table near a window, sipping butterbeer and patiently waiting for Ron and Harry. On one side of them, two greying witches were giggling over large glasses of elf-made wine, and on their other side a roudy amatuer Quidditch team clad in purple jerseys was loudly celebrating a successful practice.

Hermione saw Ron first, his tall stature and flame-colored hair made him very visible through the chaos of the pub. Harry came after him, and the two said a quick hello to their friends, before Ron went to the counter to give Tom their orders and Harry settled down into an open seat.

"Sorry we're late," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose, "Kingsley had a meeting with the whole Auror department, and it ran over because this prat, Jenkins, wouldn't stop asking questions."

Ron returned to the table with two butterbeers, setting one down in front of Harry before settling into the seat beside him. "I got some crisps as well. I'm starving!" he exclaimed, lifting his butterbeer to his face and carelessly downing several large gulps.

Hermione attempted to hide her disgust at the messy picture Ron made as Draco turned to her, saying, "How you were ever interested in that sloppy tosser I'll never know, but I'm glad you came to your senses." He shot her a wink and a small smile, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Sod off," Ron retorted, "I'm a catch! Just ask Luna."

Harry snorted, and Hermione turned to him. "What about you? Fancy anyone these days?"

Harry shook his head vehemently. "I don't know why you're so determined to pair me off. I hardly have time to worry about that right now, Hermione. There's a madman on the loose trying to kill you. That's my priority."

"Harry, I'm fine. You're being ridiculous. Take time for yourself!" Hermione assured him, placing her hands over his that were folded on top of the table.

"The case is what I'm worried about. I have the rest of my life to go on dates," Harry told her stoically, clenching his jaw. Hermione studied the dark circles under his eyes, slightly masked by his glasses. She knew he wasn't sleeping well- she hadn't seen him so haggard since their days in the tent.

She squeezed his hand. "Harry… I'll be okay. You'll find whoever is doing this. Please don't get so worked up about this. There are fully qualified Aurors who should be handling this whole situation- you don't have to do it on your own. When you get stressed you get impulsive, and I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me."

He gave her a long, serious look. "We take care of each other, Hermione. That's what we do. I can't even think of how many times you've put yourself in harms way for me."

She gave him a small smile. "I did that willingly. You certainly don't have to repay that- it's not why we take care of each other." She looked over to see Ron rolling his eyes in Draco's direction.

"You two are fouling the mood," Ron said, a goofy grin on his face. "You know you're being pathetic when I prefer the company of the ferret. Lighten up!"

"Eloquent, Weasley," Draco drawled, sipping his butterbeer and resting his hand on Hermione's knee under the table.

Hermione chuckled. "Tell me about your meeting with Lucius," she said, turning towards Ron.

The redhead sighed and she felt Draco's grip on her leg tighten. Ron cleared his throat. "We didn't get anything. He wouldn't speak with us about it."

Harry turned to Draco. "He's asking to speak with you."

Draco shook his head, an angry expression overtaking his face. "I'm sure he is. I'm not going to pander to him. He won't tell me anything, he just wants to control me." Hermione grabbed his hand, lacing his fingers through hers and rubbing circles on his palm with her thumb.

Harry nodded. "I agree, Draco. We don't even know if he has any helpful information. I wouldn't negotiate with him."

"He was, uh…" Ron looked down at the table, nervously scratching at a divot in the wood and not making eye contact with Draco or Hermione. "He saw the Prophet article from a couple weeks ago, outing your relationship." Ron swallowed and looked up and spoke to Draco. "He was not very pleased that the two of you are together, mate."

Draco laughed bitterly. "I figured as much." Hermione took his hand in both of hers, now, willing him to calm down.

The group of four sat together for an hour, drinking butterbeer and eating crisps. They quickly abandoned the topic of Lucius in favor of lighter subjects. Hermione told the boys about her new favorite subject, Alchemy. Harry shared new photos of Teddy that made Draco's face light up, and Ron brought up the upcoming Tornadoes vs. Cannons Quidditch match, casually mentioning that Draco and Blaise should consider coming with him and Harry without outright inviting him (he didn't want to appear too friendly to the Slytherins). They all stood up, and Hermione embraced both Aurors, Ron first while Draco and Harry had a quiet conversation just out of earshot, and then she moved to hug Harry.

"Try not to worry," she earnestly whispered in his ear as she held him close. "It will all work out. It always does when you're friends with the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice."

He chuckled. "Is that what they're calling me now?"

She shrugged, smirking at him. "No, but Draco has called you that before. It's among the kinder names he's used."

Harry let out a full bellied laugh and gave Hermione another hug, pressing a quick kiss to her temple, before stepping into the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace with Ron. Seconds later, Hermione and Draco followed them. Hermione had abandoned her plans for a date night out with Draco in favor of a night back in their cozy common room. She thought that after spending a relatively substantial amount of his week thinking about his father, Draco might not enjoy a trip into Diagon Alley- strangers staring at him was the best outcome of those trips, and there was a high likelihood that he might get hexed. We'll save that type of public wizarding outing for a day when he's less bothered, she thought, dusting the soot off of her robes and taking Draco's proffered hand, making their way out of the eighth-year common room they had just flooed into.

"Draco, put that down," Hermione bossed and watched as Draco sighed, but sat down the firewhiskey bottle he had just retrieved from his room. He crossed the room to the kitchen, where Hermione was standing near the counter, and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him.

"Big plans tonight, Granger?" he asked, looking down at the cookbook that she had open on the counter. It was a magical cookbook that had been gifted to her two Christmases ago by Mrs. Weasley- she would spell it with the ingredients she had available, and it gave her recipe recommendations based on that. He raised an eyebrow at her.

She smirked up at him. "I was going to make dinner so that we can stay up here for the night. Or at least until the prefect meeting. I thought you might like a break from people."

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'd like that very much. It's been a while since we've properly spent time alone together, hasn't it?"

Her nose scrunched in perplexity. She wasn't used to someone wanting to spend time with her so often- she usually just accompanied Harry, Ron, and Ginny without thought, so they didn't seek out her company. It wasn't off-putting, as she liked being with him as well, but that didn't make it any less confusing to her. "The ball was less than a week ago," she told him, but Draco just shook his head.

"That's not the same, Granger. Meaningful time, just the two of us. Outside of bed. We haven't done that since we started dating." He grabbed her hand and led her to the couch. "I want to spend time together," he told her earnestly, sitting on the couch and trying to pull her into his lap.

She giggled, squirming off of him. "We'll spend time together, Draco! But not right now. Now, I'm going to the kitchen. How does toad in the hole sound?"

Hermione busied herself in the kitchen, while Draco made corrections to the agenda for the prefects' meeting that evening based off of the notes Hermione had left for him in the margins. Before long, Hermione set a steaming pan on the table and called for Draco to come sit with her.

"This looks lovely, Granger. Thank you for making dinner," Draco told her, leaning down to drop a kiss on Hermione's cheek before taking his seat. She blushed.

"You're welcome. I hope it's alright. I remember Mum making this a lot before I left for Hogwarts, but I've never tried to make it on my own." She served a portion to Draco, then added some to her own plate and they both tucked in.

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about actually," Draco told her after swallowing a mouthful of his food, "This is really delicious, by the way, love." She smiled and muttered a quick, 'thanks' and then he continued. "I was wondering what your plans are for the holiday?"

Leave it to Ginny- the silly cow knows everything. I'll never live this down. "I really hadn't thought about it yet."

"Would you consider coming to stay with me? The manor's remodeling is done now and the finishing touches should be complete within the next two weeks. By the time term ends, it'll be perfect. I spoke with Potter about it today before we left and he assured me that the Aurors could put the same protective wards around the new manor that they'll put around the Burrow, so between the two places you'll be incredibly safe."

She studied him and couldn't help but be in awe of this lovely, thoughtful man who never ceased to amaze her. She gazed into his beautiful silver eyes, shining with hope and anticipation. "You've really thought this through, then?" she asked him, setting her fork down.

He nodded. "I'd really love for you to come stay with me, Granger. Obviously we could go to the Burrow as well,and have everyone over to see us- I was thinking about having a party with both of our friends to ring in the new year. Aunt Dromeda will want to come check on us with Teddy, and you can show me more muggle films…" he trailed off, running his left hand through his hair and then continuing in a softer, sheepish voice, "I've never had an especially pleasant Christmas. I was hoping we could correct that."

Her face lit up and she clapped her hands. "Oh, I love Christmas! There are so many wonderful holiday traditions my family has... I could show you some of them, if you'd like?"

He laughed. "Is that a yes, then? Will you spend the break with me?" She nodded, and he leaned across the table to kiss her, but didn't get there quick enough, as she had already begun rambling excitedly.

"Draco, we'll have so much fun! There's ice skating and cookie frosting and carols! We can have a snowball fight and bake a yule log! My parents visited France for Christmas when they were first married, and after that trip Mum would always bake a yule log. Oh, and we must decorate the manor!" She got up to retrieve a quill and parchment, continuing her verbal list as she went, and Draco chuckled. Only Granger...

Chapter Text

Ch. 21- On Visits to St. Mungos

Hermione felt capable of murder. She'd never used an Unforgivable before, but she felt like she could probably fire off a Crucio just then as she sat next to Draco's bed in his fourth floor room at St. Mungo's.

They had woken up that morning, a chilly Saturday at the end of November, in a warm blanket cocoon to hear the rain pattering against Hermione's window. It was all her fault, really-- Draco had begged her to stay in bed with him all day, but she told him that she had wanted to go shopping for Christmas. Truthfully, that wasn't the whole reason; yes, she had wanted to get presents before the holiday, but she also had been hoping to speak with the shopkeeper at Flourish & Blotts about a few books she had learned about that she hoped would help her fend off, or possibly even catch, whoever was after muggleborns. The books weren't exactly easy to come by, and she was hoping that she'd have a better chance of persuading him if she requested them in person, as opposed to sending an owl. Despite Draco's numerous attempts to dissuade her, she was persistent, so he had agreed to accompany her to Diagon Alley. For the most part, the crowd had given them plenty of space- Draco had stopped to chat briefly with an antsy Theo Nott outside of Flourish & Blotts, and Hermione had waved at Dedalus Diggle when she saw him clumsily leaving Eeylops Owl Emporium, but otherwise they hadn't even recognized anyone. Despite the whispers that followed them, no one made comment about the former Death Eater or his Golden Girl girlfriend. Hermione had just persuaded Draco to come to Muggle London with her to look for something for Mr. Weasley when it happened.

"Death Eater scum!" they heard a passing witch hiss as her black eyes glittered with anger. "Go back to the hole you crawled out of, you worthless worm!"

Everything had happened in an instant. Hermione hadn't even been able to process the events until they were already in motion. A flash of red light had flown from one direction and Draco had deflected it, followed by a flash of gold from another direction that he'd only narrowly dodged. Then the alley had closed in on them as witches and wizards had descended from every direction, at least a dozen of them, shouting and cursing. Hermione had attempted to shout over the din, to reason with the group, but it was useless. In a moment of clarity, Hermione had sent a patronus to Harry and Ron, which cost her her focus and led to a large gash on her cheek. She ignored the stinging, and had continued to aid Draco in holding off the crowd, as she desperately tried to remember everything that she had brushed up on that summer while dueling with the boys at the Burrow. They'd thrown up shield charms and defensive spells, but finally a curse broke through the fray hitting Draco in the stomach. Hermione had watched in horror as he keeled over, groaning in pain.

Only moments later, Harry and Ron had arrived, along with Auror Windermere and another Auror that Hermione didn't know: a tall woman with golden hair. She had vaguely acknowledged Ron and the woman putting up an anti-apparition ward before she'd realized that Auror Windermere had his arm around Draco and Harry had latched on to her. In a moment, she had felt the familiar pull behind her navel, and then they were standing outside St. Mungos.

"Sorry about that, Hermione," Harry had explained, as they passed through the store window of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. and into the main lobby of St. Mungos, "but only Aurors can apparate through those wards, and we had to put them up to make sure none of your attackers were able to escape."

"It's fine, Harry, really. We just need to find someone to see him, now!" she had responded, running ahead of both Aurors who were propping her boyfriend between them. "Excuse me, ma'am?" she had called urgently to the welcome witch behind a desk.

"All patients must sign in," the witch had drawled in a bored voice, not even looking up from her copy of Witch Weekly.

"Excuse me," Harry had said forcefully as he'd gently pushed Hermione aside, "we'll be needing a Healer. Now." The witch had looked up, first at Harry's Auror badge, then at the scar on his forehead, before finally settling on the angry and determined look in his eyes. She had immediately scrambled to find someone. Several Healers had closed in on their little group before Hermione had even had a chance to thank Harry, whisking Draco off to another area of the hospital for examination.

"Thank you both so much for all of your help," she had distractedly told Harry and Windermere, "but I need to figure out where he went."

Harry had met her eyes to give her a long, concerned look. "I can stay, Hermione, if you need someone? I don't want to leave you here alone."

She shook her head. "You've done more than enough, and I'm sure you'll have your work cut out for you back at the Ministry with all of the arrests from our attack. Honestly, I'll be fine." She had attempted to give him a reassuring smile, but he had been able to see that she was clearly distracted, so he had given her a hug before heading off with Auror Windermere to assist Ron and the other Auror in dealing with the group back in Diagon Alley.

They still hadn't figured out what combination of spells he had been hit with, but they seemed to have staved off the worst of his side effects, and he was now resting. She watched the reassuring rise and fall of his chest, putting her at ease that he was still breathing and safe. She delicately slipped her hand into his much larger one, causing him to stir and awake.

"I must have the prettiest nurse there is," he croaked, attempting to smile over at her, though it came off as a grimace through his obvious pain.

She smiled at him with wet eyes. "I'm glad you're awake."

"I can't have been out that long," he guessed, attempting to sit up but immediately lying back down with a wail of pain. He lifted his shirt to inspect what he was certain was a rather sizable wound across his stomach, only to realize that there was nothing there. From what he could tell, he was completely unmarred, but the pain radiating from his abdomen told a different story.

"All the damage was done internally. It was some unknown, nasty curse... They've healed your injuries, but you're going to be sore for a few days," she told him, nervously eyeing his hands as they ran over his stomach feeling for any deformities.

"How long was I down for, then?" he asked her, attempting to shuffle again in his bed, trying his best to hide his pained expression from Hermione.

"It's been hours, Draco. You need to lie down," she told him sternly, standing up to fluff the pillow around his head. "It was difficult for them to assess what damage had been done while they were trying to get you stable. I'll just go retrieve a Healer and let someone know that you're awake…"

Draco grabbed her arm, stopping her as she made to leave. He looked up at her, attempting to give her a serene smile. "Hey, sit down for a minute," he cajoled. She looked down at him, apparently weighing the situation in her mind before ultimately deciding to acquiesce and sitting back down in her seat beside his bed. "What's the matter, love? Why have you been crying?" he asked, cradling her face in his left hand and using his thumb to wipe away the stale tears that clung to her cheek.

She let out a frustrated sob. "You could have died, Draco! I don't like seeing you here, groaning in pain and confined to a hospital bed."

"Well someone just had to go shopping today, didn't she?" he joked, but quickly realized his mistake when anguish crossed Hermione's features. She stood up and started pacing. "Hey," he called over to her, "I was just joking, Granger. This was bound to happen sooner or later, and this probably isn't the last time, either." He patted the bed next to him, indicating she should sit, but she was crying and pacing now and had worked herself into a right state.

"No, you were right. It's all my fault. You asked me to stay in today and I--"

"Hermione," he cut her off, speaking as sternly as he could through the pain. She looked over at him, and took in the determined set of his jaw and stern look in his eyes. "Today wasn't your fault. If anything, it's mine for all of my shit decisions in the past. Now," he attempted to sit up a little in his bed, letting out a low, painful grunt, but adjusting himself nonetheless, "who is it that has lectured me in the past about not wallowing over things we can't control?" He tapped his finger on his chin in mock pondering, smirking over at where his girlfriend was still standing in the corner of the room.

She rolled her eyes at his antics. "Draco…" she started, crossing the room to sit delicately on the bed next to him.

He shook his head, still smirking. "No, it wasn't Draco." She laughed, and at that joyous sound, he continued, "I do believe that it was my beautiful girlfriend."

She snorted. "She sounds smart."

He leaned back against his pillows, pulling on Hermione's arm until she was nestled against his body, his left arm holding her to him. "Oh, she is. Very smart. A real know-it-all. A bit annoying, really."

"Is that so?" she asked in an amused tone, lightly tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips.

"Oh yes. Quite the irritating, little swot. But I keep her around because she's got a nice arse and great tits," he explained, and she could hear the smile in his voice. She barked out a laugh, playfully swatting him on the chest, but he grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "Easy now, love. I'm convalescing, here. Wouldn't do well to go reinjuring me, now would it?" He looked down at her with his most pathetic puppy dog eyes.

"Prat! We'll just see when the next time is that you get to admire my tits and arse, Mr. Convalescing," she teased, settling herself into his side again and placing a kiss over his heart.

He nestled into the bed, drawing comfort from the warm body pressed against his, and laid his head atop her hair, breathing in the comforting smell of Hermione. She could calm him in a way that no medication, magical or Muggle, seemed to. They laid there for a few minutes, Draco inhaling Hermione's scent and holding her to him while she delicately traced words and shapes across his chest, content to just be near him and know that he was safe.

"Mr. Malfoy?" a voice called, and he looked over to see a Healer entering the room, a middle aged wizard in lime green robes. Hermione sat up and then hopped off the bed, and he instantly missed her at his side.

"Oh good, Healer Taylor! Draco, Healer Taylor is the one handling your case. He did a marvelous job getting you stable earlier," Hermione told him nervously, smiling guiltily over at the Healer as he fluttered around the room, checking things and writing them down.

"I thought you were going to get me when Mr. Malfoy woke up, Miss Granger?" he asked accusatorily, lifting an eyebrow at her. She blushed.

"It's my fault," Draco interjected, crossing his arms in irritation. She already feels guilty enough about this whole thing without that wanker making her feel worse! "I asked her to sit with me for a minute before coming to get you."

The Healer gave him a once over with an unimpressed look before turning back to Hermione. "Miss Granger," he said formally, "I'll need you to leave the room, please. I need to run some tests on Mr. Malfoy to determine the severity of his injuries. I'll let you know when you can come back and sit with him. It should be an hour or so." He turned around and began rifling through a cupboard, clearly dismissing her.

Hermione leaned down to kiss Draco on the cheek, but he caught her arm and met her eyes, trying to convey to her, again, that she shouldn't feel guilty. She gave him a half-hearted smile. "I'll see you in a bit," she whispered into his ear before pecking his cheek and leaving the room.

Hermione headed towards the waiting room, chastising herself for letting Draco distract her. The Healer told you that time is of the essence, you silly cow! she lectured, heading down the hall. She was so distracted that she didn't notice, at first glance, the familiar faces in the waiting room.

"Oh, my dear!" Hermione heard, and immediately felt herself being pulled into a warm, familiar hug. She looked up to see Mrs. Weasley with motherly concern painted across her face. "Ron came to tell us what happened, and I couldn't stand the thought of you waiting here by yourself!" She pushed the hair out of Hermione's face and cupped her cheeks with her soft hands. "How is he doing, then?" she asked.

"Thank you for coming, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said with a smile, registering that George and Bill were also sitting in the room. "He's doing okay. He woke up a few minutes ago- the Healer is running more tests now. You all didn't need to come down here!"

George snorted. "And miss a chance to see that pretty boy in a hospital bed? No way! I intend to get several photos of him looking less than his best for blackmail." Mrs. Weasley smacked him on the back of his head.

"You will do no such thing, George Weasley!" she scolded, but he just smiled up at her.

"Only joking, Mum!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in innocence. Under his breath, he added, "In all seriousness, I figure if the git snuffs it, you'll need a shoulder to cry on which is phase one in my plans to woo you, Hermione." He winked at her, narrowly dodging another whack on the head from his mother as he retreated to the other side of the room, chuckling to himself.

"I, much more innocently, came to offer my services," Bill explained as Hermione came over to sit beside him. "I figured if there were any complex curses that the Healers weren't sure of, it would be good to have an expert on hand. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary for me to be here. It sounds like they have everything under control?" he asked, sounding every bit like the big brother that he was.

Hermione smiled over at him. "They do, but thank you for coming. It means a lot to me."

Bill took her hand and squeezed it. "You're family, Hermione. We'd do anything for you. I hope you know that." He gave her a long, meaningful look, but it was interrupted when Blaise and Ginny burst through the door.

"My best mate gets sent to the hospital and no one thinks to tell me for hours!" Blaise huffed, storming over to Hermione.

"Oi, settle down!" Ginny called, chasing after him. "I'm sure Hermione has a lot on her mind and sending out a bunch of owls wasn't her top priority."

"Well it should have been!" Blaise yelled in frustration. "I'm damn near the only family he has with his parents locked up!"

Hermione sighed. "You're right, Blaise. I should have sent word. I've just been worried and I wasn't thinking clearly." Her eyes started to fill with tears- it had been an emotional day and her feelings of guilt were welling up again.

Blaise studied her as silent tears ran down her face and she quickly brushed them away with the back of her hand. "I shouldn't have yelled," he told her, "I'm sorry, Granger."

Hermione quickly gathered Blaise into a hug, catching him off guard as the Slytherins still didn't seem quite comfortable with the easy way that Gryffindors gave physical affection. She felt him relax into the hug after a moment, returning it with equal fervor. She leaned back, meeting his eyes and giving him a reassuring smile despite the tears on her face.

"He's going to be okay," she told Blaise, watching as he seemed to relax a bit in relief. "The Healer is in there doing more tests now, but he woke up earlier and I spoke with him. He's still the same snarky Draco. Healer Taylor said it would be an hour, but then we can go back in to see him."

Blaise and Ginny accompanied Hermione to the tearoom on the fifth floor where they all obtained sustenance and brought something back for Mrs. Weasley as well. Bill and George had left shortly after Blaise and Ginny arrived, but not before they both assured Hermione that they would be there the second she needed them. Given the recent attacks, as well as the cryptic warnings they had received from Harry and Ron about Hermione's safety, the whole family was on alert.

Hermione, Ginny, and Blaise returned with Mrs. Weasley's tea, and somehow Blaise had found himself immersed in a conversation with Mrs. Weasley about Celestina Warbeck (a singer that Blaise, surprisingly, really enjoyed) while Ginny and Hermione perused a copy of Transformation Today that they had picked up in the hospital shop. Soon after, Healer Taylor entered the waiting room, informing everyone that Draco was doing quite well and should only need to stay at the hospital for a few more hours under observation as long as he continued to remain stable. He admitted Hermione to enter his room first as Draco had explicitly asked for her, but explained that once she had seen him they were all welcome to visit.

Hermione tentatively pushed open the door to Draco's room, finding him sitting up in bed, his arms crossed in a distinct pout. "The Healer said it was all good news, Draco! Why don't you look happy?"

He looked over at where she entered the room, and his expression softened, silver eyes glowing at the site of her. "These ridiculous Healers. I assured them that I feel absolutely fine, but they insist upon keeping me here for a few more hours," he groused, arms still crossed. He looked like a petulant child, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle.

"You're acting like a baby. Do you understand how much worse it could be?" she asked him in reprimand, gazing down at him incredulously.

"I'm not being a baby, Granger," he continued to pout, scrunching up his aristocratic nose.

"Yes, you are, you git!" she lightly admonished, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I get to take you home tonight. And in one piece! The Healers just want to watch you a bit longer to make sure you're alright. Stop acting like it's the end of the world," she told him bluntly, smirking and letting him know that she very clearly wouldn't be tolerating any more of his nonsense. Draco tried a different tactic, grabbing her arm to gently pull her closer to him.

"If I stop complaining, will you be my nurse when we get home this evening?" he purred into her ear, smirking as he watched the goosebumps rise on her arms. She shivered a little.

"I don't know," she cooed back, seductively, "you don't seem to be a very cooperative patient. Give me one good reason why I should."

He pulled her into a breathtaking kiss, passionate and heady. Grabbing her face with his right hand, he wrapped his left arm around her waist, laying back and pulling her on top of him so he could roll his hips into hers, making her aware of his very prominent hardness. She let out a little "Oh!" of surprise, and he took advantage of the opportunity to plunge into her mouth, caressing her tongue with his in a wonderful dance the two were getting quite good at. He kissed across her cheek and up her jaw, taking her ear lobe in his mouth and tugging on it with his teeth.

"Is that enough incentive, or do you need further convincing, Healer Granger?" he growled into her ear, relishing in the wanton, little moan that she let out as he kissed down her neck. He meant to continue his ministrations when a knock interrupted, what he thought had been, his excellent plans for the witch on top of him. She immediately leapt off of him and the bed, and began straightening out her appearance.

"Goodness, Draco!" she lectured, attempting to de-fluff her wild hair. "There are other people who want to see you, and we're carrying on like that… we're in a public hospital for Merlin's sake!" He chuckled, shifting slightly to mask the obvious erection he was now sporting but otherwise looking quite content with his choices. She moved to open his door, and he was delighted to see his other visitors.

"Draco dear, are you quite all right?" Mrs. Weasley asked, coming to sit a plate of homemade fudge on the table next to his bed.

He smiled up at her. "I'm feeling perfectly fine, considering I was ambushed today. Thank you for coming, Mrs. Weasley."

She smoothed down his hair in a maternal way and patted his cheek. "I thought about your mother. I know if it were one of my children… well, I would want someone to come and check on them." She smiled down on him and fluffed his pillows behind his head. "Now then, I know you've got a good group here, so I'll be going. I just wanted to check in. Please write if you need anything at all, alright? I'll expect to see you for the holiday!" She gave him a kiss on his temple and smoothed down the blankets near his feet before turning and heading out of the room, waving goodbye to the other three.

"What are you two doing here?" he called over to Blaise and Ginny with a smile. They were sharing a chair on one side of the room, Ginny in Blaise's lap, and he noticed that Blaise was looking anywhere but at him.

Ginny stood up, heading over to the bed. "We just wanted to make sure you were doing okay, ferret boy," she explained, ruffling his hair. He half-heartedly scowled up at her and she laughed.

"How are you even allowed to be here, Red? Special permission doesn't extend to seventh years." He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her an interested look.

She winked at him. "No, but special permission does extend to McGonagall's favorites."

He barked out a laugh. "Too right." He turned to Blaise who was still firmly planted in the chair. "Hey, mate! Are you going to stay over there permanently, or what?"

Blaise looked over at Draco, then, and neither Hermione nor Ginny could pretend that they didn't see the anxiety in his eyes as he studied his best friend in a hospital bed.

"Gin," Hermione said abruptly, standing up from where she had perched on Draco's bed. "Want to go back to the shop with me? I'm going to grab some gillywater." Ginny followed, taking the hint, and the two girls left their boyfriends to their awkward, male expression of feelings.

"Well that seemed… intense," Ginny remarked, giggling.

"You know how boys are about their feelings. Draco's been threatened before… but no one has ever attacked him like that. I'm sure Blaise is just a little worried," Hermione explained. Then, turning the corner and casting a quick Muffliato to make sure no one eavesdropped, she continued, "Speaking of intense, I need to talk to you about what happened with Draco before you lot came in!"

Draco watched as Ginny and Hermione left the room, very obviously giving him and Blaise some space. Draco shifted in bed to look expectantly towards the chair his best friend still sat in.

"You're a fucking idiot," Blaise grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, still keeping his dark eyes firmly affixed on the door his girlfriend had just walked out of.

"Come again?" Draco asked, hackles rising.

"Someone sends a very blatant threat to you about you and Granger, so naturally the two of you go wandering around in public. Real smart, Draco," Blaise chastised, getting up from his seat and crossing the room to rest near the counter on the other side of Draco's bed, keeping his back to his best friend.

"You try telling Granger no! Imagine Ginny wanted to go out shopping around town. Would you let her go alone, given the circumstances? No, of course you wouldn't! You'd go with her!" Draco retorted, his tone undercut by his inability to raise his voice without being in pain.

He heard Blaise let out a long, strained sigh and watched as he slowly turned toward Draco's bed. "You could have died, Draco," he said in a low, slow voice, and Draco could see the sorrow and anxiety in his best friend's eyes.

"But I didn't," he explained, pushing his blond fringe out of his eyes and bringing his hand around to scratch the back of his neck.

"But you could have." Draco noticed Blaise's hands, both clenched into fists at his sides. The Italian shook his head. "I don't want to sound poncy, or whatever… but I love you, mate. You can't die. You're my brother. Who the hell would I have left if you're gone?"

Draco chuckled. "We've been spending too much time with the Gryffindors."

Blaise groaned in irritation. "I'm serious, Draco- quit laughing at me like this is some fucking joke. Who would tell your mother that you died, hmm? Going to leave that delightful task to Granger?" He met Draco's eyes, glaring in his direction. When Draco began to slowly shake his head, Blaise continued. "Of course you wouldn't. That would fall to me. Potter sent McGonagall to tell me you'd been attacked in Diagon Alley and he didn't know your status and all I could think was, 'How the fuck do I tell Narcissa?' You were reckless. I know Granger doesn't believe in danger because she's a bloody Gryffindor, but I expect you to have a brain and some self-preservational instinct to keep you both out of trouble! For the love of Salazar, Draco!" Draco watched as angry tears slipped down his friend's face, and Blaise quickly brushed them away with the back of his hand.

He sighed, clenching his hands around the sheet on his bed and then unclenching again. "You're right," he conceded, shaking his head and letting it hang in shame. "We didn't think it through. I figured that we were safe from the person threatening us, surrounded by all the people in Diagon Alley… but I forgot to take into account that all those people hate me. We won't go out again alone until all of this has blown over."

Blaise came over to stand beside Draco's bed, thinking back to the War. They'd spent so much time together, constantly in fear that one or both of them were going to die. After coming out of that alive, he thought he'd never deal with that brand of fear again, until McGonagall had come to him today with Potter's message. "I… we… fuck Draco, I was worried about you, mate. Don't scare me like that."

"I really didn't think anything bad would have a chance to happen. We were in such a public place, I didn't think anyone would come after us. You know what it's like, mate. I wanted to stay in bed, but then Granger bats those eyelashes of hers and I'm like putty in her hands."

Blaise laughed. "I'd say there's something about lions, but I'm not nearly as pathetic as you are!"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Ginny called, re-entering the room with Hermione behind her, smirking over at her boyfriend. She took in the sad, vulnerable expression on his face, and the exhausted droop of his shoulders, and felt her heart swell with fondness. She stepped protectively in front of him, and grabbed his arms, wrapping them around her waist.

Blaise sighed and pressed a kiss to the back of Ginny's head. "Whatever you say, love."

"Blaise, if you'll just help Draco to the couch, we should be fine," Hermione called, clearing a path. Blaise had one arm slung around a bemoaning blond who was emphatically declining any assistance.

"Granger, honestly!" Draco called to his girlfriend. "I'm fine! I can walk by myself. You heard the Healer- I'm good as new!" Blaise chuckled as he released Draco onto the couch.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's not at all what the Healer said. He told me that your medication will make you think you're as good as new but that you should still take it easy. No flying for a week and no heavy lifting." Draco crossed his arms over his chest, and Hermione turned to thank their friends and to escort them out the portrait hole. "Thank you both so much," Draco heard her call as they made their way to the exit. "We'll get together, the four of us, after Ginny's Quidditch match next Saturday!"

Hermione then shuffled to the kitchen, clanking around and running water. Draco listening to her noise making for a moment before grabbing a book off the table and laying down across the couch, settling in to read. Moments later, she brought him a cuppa.

"I made you some tea," she told him, looking down at him expectantly as he lounged.

"Thanks, love. You can sit it on the table," he told her, returning to his book.

"Draco," she started in what Draco could tell was going to be a lecture about his well-being. She sat the cup down and put her hands on her hips in that bossy way that he found so attractive. "You need to drink it. It'll--"

"Granger, you know what it does to me when you stand there bossing me around like that," he interjected, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She blushed and removed her hands from her hips, but continued, undeterred, "I'm serious, Draco. You need to start thinking about your health. You didn't listen to a single recommendation from the Healer!"

He smiled seductively up at her, setting his book back on the table. "Why in Merlin's name would I need to do that when my swotty, little nurse was listening to everything he said?" He slowly got up, slinking over to where she stood like a predator sneaking up on its prey. "As I recall, Healer Granger," he continued, bending to tuck a stray hair and whisper into her ear, "you left me in the middle of a treatment, earlier." He placed a string of soft kisses down her neck before taking her earlobe into his mouth and sucking on it. He uttered a slow "tsk, tsk, tsk" and she felt shivers run down her spine. "That's hardly professional…" he added, nuzzling his nose into her neck and placing a line of kisses across her shoulder.

He looked down at her. Her hands were on her hips again, but all pretense of authority was lost at the glazed-over, lust-filled look in her eyes. She shook her head a little. "Draco, I don't think this is a good idea. The Healer said you should relax."

He chuckled lowly. "I'm never as relaxed as when we're in bed."

She looked up at him and pushed the fringe out of his eyes. The lust in those mercurial orbs left her weak in the knees. Something caught her, though. Not just lust… it's pure adoration. She realized, in that moment, just how much he cared for her, and a warmth spread throughout her body that had nothing to do with his suggestive words and sultry behavior of moments before. Against her better judgment, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to snog her fiercely.

"All right, Mr. Malfoy," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him toward her bedroom door, "let's continue with your treatment plan."

He smiled widely down at her before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside as she continued leading him to her door. He pulled her in close, snogging her passionately and walking her backward to her bedroom, her hands in his hair and his cupping her arse. She broke their kiss to discard her own shirt before turning the doorknob and pulling him into her room, shoving him in the direction of the bed.

She climbed on top of him, sucking on the pulse point in his neck, making him let out a long, low moan as he unhooked her bra. They'd done this many times in the past few weeks; so much so, that she knew exactly what he'd do and wasn't at all surprised when he grabbed handfuls of her chest. He pulled back to bury his face between her breasts, humming contentedly and smiling like the cat that got the canary. Hermione ground down on him, feeling his hardness through the fabric of both of their trousers as he took her right nipple into his mouth, sucking while he rolled the left between his fingers. With Draco still distracted by her breasts, and with a boldness she didn't know she possessed, she trailed her hands down his toned stomach and began working on unfastening the buttons of his denims.

"Hermione, whoa whoa whoa," Draco groaned as she ran her hand down his hardened length over his clothing. "What are you doing, love?"

"Relaxing you," she replied with what she hoped was a sultry smirk, finally drawing down his zipper and pulling his trousers off of his body, leaving him lying there, rather enticingly, in only his pants and socks.

"Sweetheart, no," he stammered, shaking his head in stark contrast to what his body was clearly telling her, "that's not what I meant. We don't have to--"

She cut him off bossily. "I know it's not what you meant, but it's what I want. Unless…" she trailed off, suddenly self-conscious, "you don't want to? You don't feel up to it after today?"

He frantically shook his head. "Merlin, no! That's not what I meant at all. I want to do everything with you. I just… we'll go at your pace, okay? Whatever you want- whatever you're ready for."

She smiled down at him. "Right, then. This is what I want."

She climbed back on top of him, kissing him slowly at first, and then intensifying it as his hands slipped into her hair, holding her face to his. She snaked her hand down his pants and felt his body tense as she tentatively wrapped her hand around his member. He let out a hiss against her lips as she experimentally ran her fist up his length. She released him, removing her own trousers, leaving her in just her knickers, before grabbing hold of Draco's pants and shimmying them down his legs.

She took a minute to admire him, all of him, for the first time. She'd never seen a naked man before, but she had a feeling that no one else would ever compare. She took in the corded muscles in his arms, the pink scars adorning his chest, and the trail of golden hair that led from his belly button to the thatch above his member. Her eyes followed that blond trail from his stomach to his pelvis before settling on his weeping cock, hard and standing at attention. It's rather lovely, isn't it? She let her eyes trail back up his body, roaming over his flat stomach, his bobbing Adam's apple, the love bite that was already purpling on his snowy skin, and the sweet dimples in his cheeks. She took in the lone freckle on the bridge of his nose, his lovely high cheekbones, and his perfect corn silk hair that was in complete disarray from its treatment by her own fingers before finally settling on his eyes. Those gorgeous pools of silver that were shining with lust and excitement and, dare she say, the faintest murmur of something akin to love. He's marvelous, she thought to herself, and he's mine.

She slowly made her way back to him, noting how his dilated pupils intently studied her breasts as they bounced with her every movement. She gave him a shy smile, resting herself between his bent legs and making eye contact with him through her dark lashes as she ran her fingers up his thighs. She leaned forward, settling herself on top of him and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Reaching down between them, she grabbed his throbbing member, running the flat of her palm over the head and delightedly watching him shudder, smiling as he let out a low moan.

"I don't know what to do, Draco," she confided, stroking her hand back up and down his cock.

"Sweetheart, you're really doing an incredible job, beginner or not," he panted. He pulled her in for a long, sweet kiss. "Here," he continued, reaching down to cover her small hand with his own, "I'll show you what I like. But please, feel free to improvise."

He guided her hand up and down, twisting and alternating speeds before releasing her hand to grab her face and pull her closer to him. Their snogging intensified, as did her rhythm on his cock, and sooner than he would have liked, Draco came, exploding all over Hermione's hand and both of their stomachs.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he said, sheepishly running a hand through his hair. "I should have warned you before I came all over you. I've never had someone else do that to me…"

He stopped, watching as Hermione studied her fingers, coated in his seed. She brought her hand up to her mouth, her dainty tongue slipping out and running up her pointer finger. He swallowed heavily, transfixed as she slowly cleaned her hand of his cum. When she had finished, she reached for her wand, murmuring a cleaning charm, first on her stomach and then on his. She set her wand back, turning to him with a smile, only to see that he still had a stupid, stupefied look on his face.

"What?" she asked, utterly confused, settling down beside him in bed.

"Your little show there," he answered, gesticulating at her hand.

"What are you on about?" she inquired, still flummoxed.

"Licking… me off of your hand," he answered, flipping on his side to look down on her as she laid.

She chuckled. "I didn't realize that was a show!"

"Gods," he groaned, leaning down to kiss across her collarbone, "you have absolutely no idea how sexy you are."

He kissed across her clavicle and down her sternum, moving to press kisses across her breasts. His hand snaked down her stomach, caressing every inch of her skin he could reach. Hermione felt his fingers tuck into the side of her blue lace knickers, and her breath hitched.

"Draco, stop," she commanded, pulling away from him.

"I'm sorry! I should have asked first," he apologized, looking guilty and ashamed. She reached up to cradle his face between her hands, pulling him down to place a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

"I just… need a little more time, okay?" she told him, peering up at him with big, innocent eyes.

"Of course! I shouldn't have done that. I feel like an arse. We'll wait. As long as you want," he stated, getting up to retrieve his boxers. He slipped them back on and then settled beside her in bed.

"But I don't mind moving forward with you!" she explained, smiling over at him and running her hand up his arm.

He shook his head. "As much as I enjoyed that, love, I'd feel more comfortable waiting to do that again until you're ready. It makes me feel guilty."

A moment passed, and then, "You really scared me today, Draco…"

He sighed. "I know, sweetheart. And I'm sorry. We both need to be more careful from here on out, okay?"

"No one attacked me," she argued, but he met her eyes and gave her a stern look.

"Granger, someone is out there attacking Muggle-borns. Until Potter and Weasley get a handle on this whole thing, I need you to be safe. No more Gryffindor recklessness. Please? For me?"

She sighed but nodded. He placed his head on her chest, nuzzling his face between her breasts as she ran her hands through his silky hair. He hummed as she scratched his scalp lightly with her nails, and before she knew it, he was asleep.

She settled into the bed, kissing the top of Draco's head and smiling as he tightened his hold on her waist. Before she knew it, she was following him into sleep, dreaming of a castle, a princess with a head of unruly curls, and a pale dragon with beautiful eyes who magically transformed into a handsome, blonde prince.

Chapter Text

Ch. 22- On Malfoy Manor

The Christmas holiday came faster than anyone could have imagined. Hermione found herself drowning in Potions homework and Alchemy essays, but she wasn't one to complain. She found that the constant grind of doing work kept her spirits up and kept her distracted. Two more Muggle-borns had been murdered, and security around the castle was increased. Draco did his best to comfort her, but the truth was, Hermione wasn't scared. She knew that it was foolish, knew that she should be terrified. But years of being best friends with Harry and Ron had taught her that things always work out; she simply had faith that they would.

The night before the train was to depart for Kings Cross, Hermione had invited Ginny, Luna, Pansy, and Daphne over for a "girls night," and he was being unceremoniously kicked out of his common room. Though he pretended to be mortally offended, the truth of the matter was that he was so thrilled she was making an effort to include his friends in her life that he would have done anything she asked.

"Draco, come on! One night down in the dungeons won't kill you!" Hermione teased, trying not to get distracted by her boyfriend's well-muscled back as she attempted to push him out the door.

"I just don't understand why I'm not allowed to be here. Junk food? Perhaps a bit of alcohol? Scantily clad pillow fights? These all sound like things I would find perfectly interesting," he joked, turning around and placing a kiss on Hermione's nose while she continued to attempt to push him across their common room.

"It defeats the whole purpose of a girls night if it's not just the girls!" she explained, crossing her arms across her chest and attempting to reason with him.

"That's discrimination, Miss Granger," he declared in a haughty voice, leaning down to wrap his arms around the petite brunette.

"Perhaps it is. I don't care. Get out!" she commanded, rolling her eyes.

He leaned down to kiss her lips, but she turned her head, determined not to give in to his distractions. Very well, he thought mischievously, running his nose down the side of her neck before sucking on the pulse point he was always able to detect with expert precision. He felt her go a bit boneless in his arms. Jackpot.

At once she seemed to come to her senses, pushing him away and extricating herself from his arms. "Oh no, you don't," she reprimanded with a laugh.

He pouted. "Fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted!" He crossed his arms and turned his back to her, but still made no move to leave their room.

"No you can't, you big baby, or you would have left an hour ago!" she joked, coming up behind him to wrap her arms around his middle, while he let out an offended 'humpf!' She kissed his spine. "I'll tell you what. If you go away tonight without complaint and let me have a proper girls night in, tomorrow night at the Manor I'll wear that red thing you so enjoy." She felt a halt in his breathing and before she knew it, he had spun around, trapping her in his arms.

"You promise?" he asked, silver eyes darkened to gunmetal with lust. She nodded with a self-satisfied smirk, and he swallowed. "Will you let me spell it green?"

She chuckled mischievously, trailing her fingers delicately up his arms. "I suppose so. Just this once." She understood by the look in her boyfriend's eyes that he believed had just won their little battle of wits, but she couldn't help but remember Draco's affections the last time she had worn the red lingerie and thought to herself that she was the real winner here.

He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Then I'll be off!" he told her jovially as they both heard a knock on the door. Hermione crossed the room to admit Luna, who had a pillow tucked under one arm. Hermione took a moment to appreciate her friend's attire- a shockingly purple vest stuck out beneath an oversized, maroon Weasley jumper, coupled with neon orange pyjama shorts with some bizarre, winged creature stitched into the fabric and covered in multicolored pom-pom balls. Hermione didn't doubt for a second that they were homemade, as Mrs. Weasley had been teaching Luna to sew the previous summer.

"Hello, Hermione. Hello, Draco," she intoned in that dreamy voice of hers, moving to sit on the couch. "Am I the first one here?"

Hermione nodded. "You are, but I expect everyone else should be here very soon. Draco was just leaving." She turned back to him, and he moved to where she was standing at their open portrait hole door. He looked down at her and smiled.

"A goodnight kiss, and then I'll go. I promise," he told her, crossing his right hand over his heart. She chuckled but nodded, and he leaned down to kiss her, grabbing her chin to tilt her head up to him.

"Ugh," they both heard, breaking their kiss with a smile as Ginny came barreling through the door. "You two are foul."

"You're just jealous, Red," Draco called, leaning down to peck Hermione once more on the cheek before nodding to the girls and heading to the dungeons.

Ginny rolled her eyes, but Luna giggled. "I think they're sort of sweet," she explained as Hermione shut the door, and moved to grab a plate of chocolate biscuits she had made for the evening, taking it to the table near the couch. Ginny was wearing a Weird Sisters shirt that she had inherited from one of her brothers- probably Bill, if Hermione had to guess, based on the punk rock vibe it gave off from the missing collar and frayed hem- and scarlet pyjama bottoms covered in golden snitches. As the other two were already clad in their pyjamas, she decided to go to her room and change into her comfy, plaid sleep shorts and the old Quidditch jersey Draco had given her after he had confiscated Harry's. When she returned to her common room, both Slytherin ladies had arrived.

"I'm so glad you both could come!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling Daphne into a hug. The Slytherin had her long, dirty blonde hair tied back in a plait and wore a pink nightdress made of soft cotton covered in sleepy looking Puffskeins.

"Yes," the blonde gushed back, "thank you so much for having us! I know it means a lot to Draco." Daphne smiled warmly at her, and Hermione felt genuine affection in her kind gaze.

Hermione turned to Pansy. "I know you're not as comfortable with… erm, physical affection, but I'm very happy you're here too, Pansy." Hermione tried not to chuckle at Pansy's sleepwear- silky, navy pyjama shorts and a camisole, similar to what Hermione wore to tempt Draco, hidden under a luxurious, fur-trimmed robe in the same navy silk. Only the best for Parkinson, she mused, thinking that despite the Gryffindor-Slytherin developments that they were all trying to acclimate to, some things never changed.

Pansy nodded in, what she hoped was, a polite way, but Hermione thought she looked quite relieved that no one was going to try to hug her.

"I brought something fun," Ginny told them, an evil smirk crossing her face as she produced a large bottle of Blishen's Best Firewhisky from her overnight bag.

"Ginny…" Hermione warned, but the redhead just rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione. It's just a bit of fun. We're all of age!" Ginny had already begun moving to the kitchen area to retrieve cups, and Hermione noted the challenging glint in her eyes, so similar to the one she had witnessed countless times from Ginny's twin brothers.

Hermione brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Yes, but we aren't supposed to have it in the castle."

"Oh honey," Pansy drawled, setting back against the couch from her spot on the floor, "if you think Draco doesn't have anything hidden in his bedroom, you're sorely mistaken." Pansy appeared to be very interested in her nails, but Daphne knew from experience that she was actually studying Hermione from under her dark, thick lashes.

Hermione went red. "No… I know he does."

"Then what's the problem?" Ginny asked in exasperation, setting cups down on the coffee table and settling in on the floor beside it. Hermione made to open her mouth again to argue, but Ginny interceded. "Come on, Mione… live a little!"

Several hours later found all five women sitting on the floor, gathered around the table, thoroughly pissed.

"I can't believe you're not a virgin, Luna!" Ginny giggled, taking another sip of her almost empty drink. She rested her head on Hermione's shoulder, humming happily when she felt her best friend's head come to lay on hers, returning the comforting gesture.

"Oh, I can," Pansy interjected, leaning into Luna and wrapping a chunk of her long, blonde hair around her finger. "I bet you're a bit naughty, aren't you? It's always the ones you'd least expect." The dark-haired Slytherin chuckled amusedly to herself but noted with curiosity that Luna didn't shy away from the overly familiar touch.

"I enjoy a healthy sex life, yes," Luna confirmed, taking a long drink of her own concoction, a mixture of Firewhisky and cranberry juice that none of the other ladies were even remotely interested in. "I've actually been with several people, Ginny."

Ginny set down her drink and sat up on her knees excitedly. "Well cut my leg off and call me a hinkypunk! I never would have guessed. Who have you been with, then?" Hermione noted the bright, enthusiastic look on the redhead's face, chuckling at how easily excitable she was now that she was well on her way to being sloshed.

Luna shook her head. "I hardly think--"

"No no no," Pansy interrupted with a feisty smirk, "those are the rules of girls night. We already agreed. What happens here, stays here, but you have to share!"

The dreamy blonde giggled playfully, mischief in her eyes. "Well, I lost it to Neville."

"Neville?!" Hermione asked, dumbfounded.

At Luna's nod, Ginny added, "I didn't know he had it in him!"

"Good for you, Luna! I mean, nowadays, he's quite fit," Daphne encouraged with a vigorous nod, sitting up on her knees and leaning her elbows on to the coffee table. Hermione noted how they all had begun slurring their words just a little, and it dawned on her that perhaps she was also drunker than she had initially believed.

"It was the beginning of seventh year," Luna explained, a sad gleam in her eyes that Hermione realized she'd never seen before. "We both saw how things were, and well… frankly, neither of us knew if we'd make it to see this year. We wanted to experience sex before we died because we were fairly certain we were going to. Die, I mean." She let out a melancholy sigh, wrapping her arms around herself. "It wasn't terribly romantic or anything, but I was glad it happened with a friend."

Ginny nodded, leaning into Hermione again. "I lost mine to Dean." They were silent for a moment, and then Ginny continued. "Daphne told us before she's a virgin… what about you, Pansy? Who'd you give it up to?"

Pansy went a bit red, her discomfort rolling off of her in waves. "Oh, erm… Blaise, actually."

Ginny barked out a laugh, reaching for the Firewhisky to refill her glass. "And now you sleep with women. Was he that bad?" Hermione noted that Ginny had spilled some of the cinnamon-scented liquid on to the coffee table and began to wipe it up with the sleeve of Draco's jersey, instantly regretting it when her wrist became wet and sticky.

Relief flooded Pansy's face when she realized Ginny wasn't going to be angry. "No, he really wasn't. I wasn't his first or anything. I wanted Draco, but well…" She gestured to Hermione, who smiled knowingly and couldn't even bring herself to feign guiltiness. "So I settled for Blaise. I knew I liked women, of course, but my parents would never have approved of that. I thought maybe if I slept with a man I'd feel differently. Turns out," she took a long, dramatic drink from her glass, "I didn't. I slept with Alicia Spinnet a week later, and I haven't looked back since." She shrugged.

"Alicia? Really?" Ginny asked.

Pansy nodded. "I like Quidditch players," she told them with a smirk that would rival any Malfoy's. She threw back the remainder of her glass, wincing slightly at the burn.

"Hermione does, too," Daphne pointed out with a wink. All the girls let out a string of silly titters.

"I really didn't do that on purpose!" she argued, red-faced from laughing and perhaps from embarrassment as well.

"Viktor and my prat of a brother hardly count," Ginny argued. "Hermione only kissed them once or twice. Now Draco, on the other hand..."

"Ginny!" Hermione squealed in a scandalized way, but they all broke out in a fit of giggles nevertheless.

"Tell us, then, Granger," Pansy started, raising a perfectly penciled eyebrow, "what's Draco like in bed? Down in the dungeons, we've all always wondered, but he was never up for it. We were all starting to think that maybe he was bent!"

"Pansy! What an awful thing to say!" Daphne scolded, smacking Pansy lightly on the arm, but she turned inquisitive eyes to Hermione all the same.

"Well he certainly doesn't like blokes, I'll tell you that much," Hermione started with a stupid smile on her face. She looked down into her mostly empty glass and watched the last swills of amber liquid spin around and around. The alcohol was definitely starting to catch up with her and she felt her face get hot when she thought of the reverence that Draco showed her in bed. No, he definitely likes women, she thought, smugly.

"Go on, then! Tell us!" Pansy encouraged, reaching for the Firewhisky bottle to refill her glass, tipping more into Hermione's glass as well. The girls had been exposed to an entirely different side of the Head Girl that evening and were all a bit determined to keep her in her alcohol-induced state of honesty and forthrightness.

"We haven't had sex. I'm not ready for that. But we've done other things." She smiled at the four girls giving her a very captive audience, all wondering about the sexual prowess of the Slytherin Prince. "It's not even about the things he does to me, physically… although trust me, that's quite lovely. It's just… the way he makes me feel. I can't explain it." She sighed, thinking about her handsome Slytherin, a warm, happy, private smile adorning her face as she thought about all the things he'd made her feel in the short months he'd been pursuing her. Despite the short nature of their relationship, it felt to her like they'd been together ages- he knew her so well.

Hermione studied her audience. Daphne was giving Hermione her undivided attention, eyes sparkling with encouragement and fancifulness. This was quite comical in stark contrast to the other Slytherin, who wasn't even attempting to hide her obvious grimace at all the emotion being so openly discussed. Ginny was rolling her eyes, but smiling understandingly all the same, clearly pleased that her wonderful friend, who was usually so logical, was letting herself fall for the handsome blonde. Luna appeared to be lost in a world of her own. Hermione knew she was listening, of course, but the dazed look in her eyes also told Hermione that her mind was a bit preoccupied, as well. Preoccupied with a certain clumsy redhead if that gleam in her eyes is anything to go off of, she thought to herself in amusement. "He looks at me like I'm the most precious thing he's ever seen. And he trusts me, you know. I mean, really trusts me. It's probably so silly… but I feel so special that I'm the girl who wakes up every morning in his arms. I'm the one who gets to see his unruly bedhead and who he comes to when he needs to discuss a Transfiguration problem. I'm what he thinks about when he casts a patronus..." She trailed off, ruminating on all of the happy feelings that Draco inspired. "It just… no one has ever made me feel so special before. Cherished, even."

Luna let out a girlish sigh, and Pansy rolled her eyes, but Hermione couldn't help but notice the jealous gleam in her eyes.

"I want that," Daphne added with a moony, melodramatic sigh, sitting her chin on her palm, propped up on the table they were all sitting around. "I hope to have that someday. Love."

Hermione shook her head, eyes wide with concern at their misunderstanding. "Oh no, it's not love. I don't love him. Not yet, anyway. It's much too soon for that."

Ginny laughed, grabbing Hermione's hand and twining their fingers together. "Oh you stupid, silly girl." She gave Hermione a knowing look, patting the back of her hand. "It's the same with Blaise. He makes me feel like me. I don't have to live up to any expectations or fill any predetermined role… he just loves me for who I am." She sighed, and then adopted her signature mischievous look. "Plus, the sex is amazing." They all lost themselves to laughter again. Moments passed, and the group chatted about less private matters, but Pansy was oddly silent and Hermione noticed that she had quickly downed two more cups.

"Listen, Granger," Pansy started when there was a lull in the conversation, slurring a bit now after imbibing so much, "I'm only saying this because I'm steaming drunk… I'm really glad you're with Draco. He can be a bit insufferable, you know? Broody and snarky and the like. But since the two of you got together it's like… well, he's just happy. For the first time in a really long time. Ever, maybe. He deserves that. And I think," she blushed and looked down at her hands, "I think you do, too." Hermione couldn't help herself- she leaned over and pulled Pansy into a hug.

Three hours and two bottles of Firewhisky later, four of the five girls were passed out. Pansy and Daphne were curled up on the couch while Ginny, Hermione, and Luna were squeezed into Hermione's bed. Hermione lay there listening to Ginny's indelicate snores and Luna's light breathing, watching the ceiling spin and trying to remember why she had sent Draco away. I can't sleep without him, she thought to herself. Slowly, she sat up and grabbed her wand, careful not to make any noise that would rouse the others. She slipped through the bathroom and into Draco's pristine bedroom, sitting down on his bed. I wonder if he's sleeping without me. Without thinking, she cast a patronus and sent it off to Draco, asking him to join her in his bed if he was still awake. She had just begun to give up hope that he would arrive when she heard his door creak open, and a blonde head peeked through the open crack.

"Draco," she exhaled on a smile, getting up to cross the room to him, apparently stumbling more than she realized she was capable of.

"Hey there, drunkie," he murmured as she coiled herself around his middle. "Nice shirt you've got there," he drawled amusedly, smoothing down the jersey and preening a bit at the sight of his last name across her shoulder blades. She leaned up to give him a kiss, pulling him down to her. What started as chaste quickly heated up as she bit his lower lip and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. "Whoa whoa whoa," he cautioned, removing his lips from hers and holding her away from him a bit. "Why don't we just go to bed, love?"

She shook her head, still stubbornly attempting to undo his buttons. "No. Need you. Now," she insisted.

He chuckled. "While I absolutely adore hearing you say that, I'd love it even more if you said it sober. Let's just go to bed, beautiful. Come on."

She pouted. "You don't want me?"

He smiled down at her, walking her backward toward his bed. "On the contrary, I want you very much." He leaned down to whisper into her ear. "But when I have you, I want to be absolutely sure you'll remember every second of it." A shiver ran down her spine at his intimate tone, and he placed a kiss on the sensitive skin behind her ear. "Besides, love, there are dozens of things I'd like to do to you and with you before then." He knew she was drunk and wouldn't remember most of this tomorrow, which is the only reason he told her, "I plan on keeping you for the long haul, Granger. There's no rush."

He tucked her into his bed and went to the bathroom to retrieve a phial of sobering potion. When he returned, she had curled herself into a ball under his blankets, a halo of chocolate curls surrounding her head on his pillow, and a fond smile on her face. He looked down at her, smiling up at him happily. He took in the adorable freckles dusted across her cheeks, the warmth emanating from her coffee-coloured eyes, the slight upturn of her button nose… everything about her from her unruly curls to her adorable, purple-tipped toes hidden under his blanket was perfect. How did I go so long without calling this lovely creature mine? he wondered. Overcome with the fondness for the Gryffindor occupying his bed, he bent down to kiss her on her forehead.

"You make me so happy, love," he sighed affectionately, leaning down to help her sit up so he could tip the potion into her mouth.

Draco did his best to stay out of the way the next morning after supplying all the girls (except Hermione) with hangover potions. He was thankful he had forced the sobering potion down Hermione's throat the night before as she was significantly less of a menace than the rest of the ladies scattered about his common room. Ginny, in particular, was a harpy, squawking at him to stop moving around so much and to keep his voice down.

"I'm not the one that forced you to down an entire bottle of Firewhisky, Red!" he teased, bringing her a glass of water as she glared at him.

"Do shut up, Ferret," she growled through clenched teeth, willing the potion to kick in a bit faster so her headache would go away.

"How Blaise puts up with your snark, I'll never know. If Hermione behaved this way I'd--"

"You'd what, Draco dear?" Hermione asked, sneaking up behind him and sharing an evil smirk with Ginny, delighted at the red tint on her boyfriend's cheeks at having been caught in a fleeting moment of chauvinism.

"Nothing, love," he mumbled, shuffling across the common room to sit at their kitchen table while they waited for Pansy to leave the bathroom.

"Oh no," Hermione chastised, tone laced with ill-concealed humor, "you were about to tell Ginny something quite interesting, I'm sure. What is it that you're going to do if I get mouthy, hmm?" She crossed her arms and tapped her toe, raising an eyebrow at him impatiently.

"I was probably going to say something both offensive and untrue, seeing as we all know how firmly you have me wrapped around your finger, Granger." He sighed, and Ginny giggled. He pulled Hermione into his lap and continued in a whisper only she could hear, "If you get mouthy, I'll sit here and take it like a good boy until you finish, and then promptly drag you off to the nearest closet for a snog because you know how randy it makes me when you get all bossy."

It was Hermione's turn to go red, and she could feel her cheeks warming up at his candid and colorful admission. She gave him a small smile. "So long as we're clear about who wears the trousers here," she joked, kissing the tip of his nose and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I'd prefer if neither of us wore trousers, to be honest," he told her with a wink and a lecherous smirk. She threw her head back in laughter and he felt an all-consuming warmth take up residence in his chest at the site. He'd never been so happy to make someone else happy, but he was slowly learning that Hermione was the exception to all the rules he'd ever understood about himself.

"Oh good," Ginny drawled across the room, breaking into Draco's thoughts, "Pansy's done. Let's go eat. I'm starving!"

Draco escorted all five women down to breakfast, feeling rather ignored as they were all engaged in talk about some American wizard on the cover of Witch Weekly with dreamy eyes. Hermione discreetly laced her fingers through his and gave him a small smile, and he found himself suddenly content to listen to the debate about whether his hair or his smile made the cover wizard more attractive.

They trooped into the hall, and Draco turned to place a kiss on Hermione's cheek so she could head toward the Gryffindor table while he went to Slytherin's. It was their morning routine, and Draco now did it without a thought. It came as a surprise to him when Hermione accepted his kiss but made to follow him to the Slytherin table.

"What are you doing, love?" he asked, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm.

"Having breakfast with you and the girls, silly," she told him like it was the most normal thing in the world, indicating toward Daphne and Pansy who had moved on to animatedly discussing the new Seeker for Senegal's National Quidditch team. Hermione joined in their chatting, completely disregarding their analysis of the player's attractiveness to explain that she took great offense to Senegal's use of Yumboes as a mascot. Draco chuckled as his witch explained to the others that she hoped to someday help with legislation to prohibit the use of all magical creatures as mascots.

Daphne and Pansy rolled their eyes, but listened to her ranting as she cited the Yumbo riots at the 1998 Quidditch World Cup as one of the many case studies she had listed in her most recent letter to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Draco looked down at the Gryffindor, gesticulating wildly with her eyes alight with passion, and didn't think it was possible to find anyone more attractive.

She followed him to the Slytherin table, finally through ranting, and sat between him and Daphne and across from Pansy and Blaise, who seemed equally surprised that Ginny was settling in at his side. Draco poured Hermione a glass of pumpkin juice, amused by the tinkling sound of her laughter as Pansy recounted what had happened on holiday last year. He smiled as Hermione unconsciously shoveled eggs on to his plate after putting some on her own. I could get used to this, he thought. Draco watched, happily, as Hermione's nose scrunched up and she snorted at something Daphne said. Overcome with affection for the lovely little witch beside him who was making such an effort to be a part of every aspect of his life, he momentarily lost himself. Before he could think about what he was doing, he leaned down to peck Hermione's cheek, nuzzling her with his nose and sighing like a lovesick fool.

"Oi!" Ginny called, tossing a piece of toast at him, "We're eating here!"

"Yeah, mate," Blaise interjected, giving Draco an amused smirk, "Save your mushy nonsense for a time when we aren't all here to witness just how whipped you are. It's embarrassing!"

Hermione went red, but she smiled up at him all the same, and Draco couldn't help but think that perhaps the embarrassment was worth it if she'd continue to smile at him like that.

"All packed?" Draco asked, levitating his trunk into the common room, where Hermione was sitting on the couch, reading a book.

She looked over at him and nodded. "Yes," she told him, placing a marker in her book and tucking it delicately into her bag. "Unlike you, who waited until the last possible moment, I've been ready to go for days." She rolled her eyes at him but gave him a good-natured smile as she walked over to where he was standing, trunk floating along in the air behind her.

"We can't all be perfectionists, Granger. Some of us have better things to do than sit around packing weeks in advance!" He smirked at her, leading her across the room to the portrait hole door with his hand on her lower back.

"I've only been packed for days, Draco. I wanted to make sure I didn't forget anything! I'm used to staying at the Burrow, where I can borrow something from Ginny if I need it," she explained as they made their way to the main hall where the carriages would take them to Hogsmeade station.

"What, like clothes?" Draco clarified.

"Among other things, yes. Ginny and I borrow a lot of each other's clothes."

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, in his most seductive voice. "You can borrow my clothes, Granger. Any time you'd like. You know how it delights me to see you in my jersey and my oxfords." He watched as a shiver ran down Hermione's spine, quite pleased with himself. She chuckled. "What's so funny, love?"

"Oh, nothing. I just figured you'd rather have me in no clothes, that's all. Perhaps you're losing your touch," she told him nonchalantly as she flounced across the hall to stand with Luna and Neville, leaving her dumbfounded boyfriend standing idly by. She could feel his eyes on her from across the corridor, and mentally patted herself on the back for her efforts in stunning the handsome blonde. Draco always left her breathless and flummoxed. We'll see how he likes being teased, she thought smugly, quite proud of herself for being so clever.

Once Draco was able to pick his jaw up off the floor and shake off the lust-filled ideas her flirting had wrought, he eventually moved to join Blaise. His Italian mate was entwined with Ginny, but the two welcomed him into conversation, and before long the carriages pulled up outside. Draco and Hermione helped the professors corral all of the students into carriages before joining Ginny and Blaise in the last carriage to leave the school grounds.

"I can't believe you're not going to join the rest of us on the train!" Ginny remarked, taking Blaise's hand in her own and moving it into her lap.

"Harry and Ron seem to think it would be safer if Draco and I apparated straight to the Manor's grounds. They're treating me like a child," Hermione lamented.

Draco scoffed. "Far be it from me to agree with Potter and Weasley, but they're right. You're the most famous Muggle-born there is, Granger. There's a giant target on your back." Hermione rolled her eyes and made to argue, but Draco continued, a bit more force in his voice. "Until they round up this psycho, you have to stick to heavily-warded areas: Hogwarts, the Manor, the Burrow. I won't fight with you about this, Hermione. No nonsense, Gryffindor heroics. You leave this to the Aurors."

Hermione glared at him, thoroughly pissed that he had chastised her in front of their friends. Deep down, she knew his words were born of concern- after all, he used her given name quite sparingly, and she'd long ago realized that his use of 'Hermione' meant he was feeling especially protective and emotional. It wasn't that she doubted his good intentions, but she wouldn't stand for anyone talking down to her.

She let go of his hand and crossed her arms across her chest, looking out the window of the carriage. Draco attempted to rest his hand on her knee, but she jerked away from his reach. Ginny and Blaise looked on, thoroughly uncomfortable with the whole scene and silently thankful that they wouldn't have to share a train compartment with the other couple for the hours it would take to return to London.

Soon, but not soon enough for the tense foursome, the carriages pulled up to Hogsmeade station. Draco and Hermione made sure that all of the students were safely aboard the train before she begrudgingly let him take her hand and Apparate them onto the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Hermione made to storm off towards the enormous mansion, but Draco grabbed her hand and held her back.

"No way am I letting you go inside yet, Granger," he told her, looking down at the petite witch who was painstakingly refusing to meet his eyes.

"I'm here, aren't I? Safely inside the wards of your house. What are we waiting for?" Hermione grumbled.

Draco gently grabbed both of Hermione's forearms, willing her to look up at him. "Look, Granger, when we go inside, I'm going to give you a tour. I've put quite a lot of work into making it a lovely home." He paused to let out a melancholy sigh, and she could see the concern quite plainly in his silver eyes and furrowed brows. "I care about you and it's quite important to me that you like it. This feels a bit momentous to me, so I'll not have you fouling it up with your rotten mood."

He smirked down at her, but without his usual mischief in his eyes, Hermione found that the expression looked a bit sad. She'd seen this look in his eyes before. He's pleading with me to understand how important this is to him. She heard him clear his throat.

"We're going to have it out right now so that when we go inside we can make happy memories. You promised me a happy holiday, and I intend to see that through. So," he let go of her arms, holding his out dramatically at his sides, "go on, then. Let me have it."

"I'm angry with you," she told him bluntly, and it took everything inside of him not to laugh at the adorably put-out look on her face.

He settled for an undignified snort. "Well yes, a blind troll could see that. Care to elaborate?"

"I don't appreciate being spoken down to, Draco. And I certainly won't stand for you berating me like a child in front of our friends!" She lightly shoved on his chest, before crossing her arms and turning her back to him.

"Granger, I wasn't--"

She cut him off, back still facing him. "You were. You spoke down to me and raised your voice at me in front of Ginny and Blaise."

He sighed. "You're right. I apologize."

She slowly turned around, her surprise evident in her curious eyes. She studied the crestfallen set of his face, amazed by his defeated tone and his apology, which she knew did not come easily to him. "You apologize?"

He nodded with a dejected sigh, not quite meeting her eyes. "Yes. My tone was uncalled for." His broad shoulders were slumped and he was nervously rubbing the back of his neck, shifting from foot to foot. "I stand by what I said, however. You have a tendency to run headlong into danger and it drives me mad. You need to listen to the Aurors and let them protect you." He took a chance, stepping back into her space and grabbing hold of her upper arms again, pleased when she didn't struggle out of his hold. "Let me protect you. Please, Granger? Don't do anything foolish."

She sighed. "I think you're all being a bit silly."

"Granger, you saw the note, just as I did. You're a target. We both are. Please," he pleaded, running his hands down her arms and capturing her small hands in his own, giving them a squeeze. "Please be sensible. You're a logical girl. You know what's at stake." He paused a minute, looking off in the distance.

Hermione could swear she saw tears glistening in his eyes, but when he turned back to her there was no trace of them, only a determined glint and something else. Something familiar lurked in his lovely silver eyes. Hermione recalled the conversation about love from the previous night before Draco cleared his throat, shaking her out of her thoughts. With a passionate plea in his voice, he continued, "Granger if something happens to you I don't know what I'd do. If you can't stay out of trouble for your own sake… will you please try to avoid it for mine? And Potter's? And for all the Weasleys'? And the countless others who would be devastated if something happened to you?"

She sighed, nodding, and let herself be pulled into a crushing hug. She chuckled, pulling back a bit to give Draco a quick peck as she held his face in her hands. Not love yet, but I'm getting there, she thought to herself, taking in the concerned set of his jaw and the adorable way his too-long fringe fell over his eyes.

"Right then," she said in a business-like tone that was eerily reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, "I believe I was promised a tour."

They'd been through the ground floor: the parlor, the ballroom, the cloakroom, the dining rooms (both formal and informal), among many others. Hermione was pleased that Draco had decided to forgo the dungeons and had instead added in comfortable house elf quarters. House elves had been a fight that they'd had early on in their courtship, but after lengthy research, Hermione had conceded that perhaps Draco was right. She had decided that, so long as the elves were happy and well taken care of, there wasn't any harm in utilizing their services as they appeared to be thrilled when they could be useful. That didn't mean, however, that she'd ever let him get away with substandard clothing or living conditions.

Draco escorted her through the lush gardens, explaining that they were a point of pride for his mother, and something she would no doubt have been devastated to lose had he not kept them.

"But Draco, I thought you said your mother wouldn't be living here when she's released? That's coming up in a few weeks. If she'll be staying here, you really should prepare," Hermione lectured, bending down to smell a beautiful yellow flower that was, miraculously, blooming in December.

"She won't be living here. She's going to stay with Aunt Dromeda and Teddy. Truthfully, she never really maintained the gardens before- house elves took care of that. It's their magic that keeps the plants blooming all year round. She just liked spending time out here, having tea or taking strolls. I think she would have been affronted if she came to visit and found that I excluded something that was so important to her." He took Hermione's hand, lacing her fingers through his own before bringing her hand up to his mouth for a kiss. "My father proposed to her out here. It wasn't a surprise, of course, as he had been negotiating a marriage contract with her father for weeks before that… but still. I think it holds some sort of romantic nostalgia for her."

Hermione smiled up at him. "You're a good son," she admired, swinging their joined hands and letting him show her around the rest of the property.

They went back inside, and Draco escorted Hermione up the stairs. He showed her the study and the billiards room, before taking her to the library, which was three times the size of Hogwarts'.

"Like it, Granger?" he asked with a self-satisfied smile.

"I love it, Draco!" she exclaimed, rushing over to run her fingers along the spines of a shelf of biographies.

"I figure we can spend a day reorganizing it," he told her, walking over to where she stood with his hands in his pockets. "I thought you might like to rearrange it according to your system." She turned to him with a confused look on her face, eyebrows raised and nose scrunched, so he explained, "I've spent hours studying your bookshelves, Granger… I can't figure out how it is you have them organized."

She laughed. "It's called the Dewey Decimal system, Draco. Lots of muggle libraries use it." She pulled a large, red tomb from the shelves and opened it to the first page.

"Yes, well," Draco continued, taking the book out of her hands and replacing it on the shelf, "we'll make plenty of time for you to come back here, love, and you can organize them to Dewey's content." She chuckled and let him hold both of her hands, pulling her away from her beloved books. "For now, I was hoping we could continue the tour."

Hermione let Draco show her the rest of his home, taking note of rooms he was especially excited about or little touches that she knew he had added just for her. The extent of Draco's affection for her was awe-inspiring, if not a little intimidating. They'd only been dating for a few months, but he had factored her into his life and his future like she had a Malfoy family heirloom sitting on her left ring finger. She studied the chiseled jawline of her handsome blond boyfriend as he explained his hopes that his future children would make good use of the music room, and tried not to fawn over his dimples when he bashfully smiled down, admitting that he'd been a terror and outright refused the music lessons his mother had demanded before he left for Hogwarts. She noted that he tensed up a bit when they passed a door on the right, and didn't hesitate in asking him about it.

"Erm, that's the portrait gallery," he explained. "I've got it pretty well silenced, of course, but… I'm not sure how the past few centuries of Malfoys would behave once they found out about your heritage. I don't want to risk it if it's all the same to you. The only reason I kept the portraits at all is that I think it's important to keep the family history."

She made a mental note not to wander into that room alone, and let him lead her further down the hallway to an ornate set of double doors.

"Right, this is my wing. The master bedroom and bath, my private sitting room, the nursery…"

"Nursery?" Hermione asked, confused.

"For my children," he explained, running his hand through his hair in that nervous way that Hermione found adorable. "It's really very commonplace to have a nursery, Granger. Mine was across the Manor in a wing of my own, which is pretty standard… but you don't exactly strike me as the kind of woman who would be happy letting house elves take care of her babies in the middle of the night, so I moved it a bit closer."

She looked at him, a bit shocked. Sure, she knew that he'd given a lot of thought to his future family, and he'd made it abundantly clear that he'd like her to be apart of it, but they'd never really discussed it. She'd given some thought to motherhood when she'd started spending time with Teddy, of course, but Draco was just so certain about things. What if I'm not cut out to be a mother?, she worriedly thought. Would he still want me then? "Draco… while I appreciate the thought you've put into this, you certainly didn't have to make all these changes to your home for me."

He shook his head. "I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be able to see yourself here. Can you?" He looked down at her with a desperate, hopeful look in his eyes. Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded. His smile lit up his face. "I know it probably seems like a lot, and too soon… I don't want to frighten you. I'm really in no rush to get to the future, Granger. I just… I want you in it. I'm factoring you in. That's all I mean to say."

She leaned up to place a sweet kiss on his lips. Truthfully, it was all a bit fast and she knew that, logically, she should feel intimidated. The biggest concern she found herself facing was that she wasn't concerned at all, which was so drastically unlike her that she thought for a moment she should be alarmed. Then Draco wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her into him, kissing her neck, and she instantly forgot that she should be worried. It all just feels so right, she thought. It feels like home.

He escorted her around his wing, showing her the various rooms before they finally ended up in his bedroom. Hermione gasped when she walked through the elaborately carved, cherry wood doors. An enormous bed was the focal point of the room, with a silky, cream-colored canopy all around the mahogany frame. The bed linens were a deep, midnight blue with silver accents, and dozens of pillows were strategically settled across the top in a stylish way. The walls were covered in champagne-colored, damask wallpaper, and the furniture was all the same dark, mahogany as the bed frame. Everything from the elegant lamps on either bedside table, to the handsome, rolltop desk sitting between the large, bay windows, was tasteful, dignified, and exactly her style. She heard Draco come up behind her.

"I… didn't want to be presumptuous," he told her, taking her hips in his hands, "so I had the house elves prepare a guest bedroom for you."

She spun in his arms, nestling her hands in the soft hair at the base of his neck. "That was very sweet of you, Mr. Malfoy, but as we sleep together every night, don't you think it would be easier if my things were in here?" She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him, touched by his careful consideration of her comfortability every step of their relationship.

"Didn't," he started between kisses, "mmm, didn't want to assume…" He trailed off as Hermione plunged her tongue into his mouth. She began trailing hot, wet kisses down his neck and chest, unbuttoning his shirt and letting her mouth follow where her fingers had been. "Merlin, Hermione," he groaned, pulling her even tighter into him and settling his hands on her arse.

"I promised you the red thing, didn't I?" she told him with a smirk, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised.

He smiled down at her, eyes glazed over with lust. She took in the mark on his neck that had already begun to purple on his alabaster skin, marking him as hers. "Think we have time for the red thing before dinner?" he asked her, squeezing her bum and pulling her into him so that she could feel his hardness through their clothes.

"Draco, we have hours until dinner!" she told him with a laugh, placing a kiss on his chest and running her hand down the front of his trousers, taking pride in the way he shuddered and let out a little moan.

"Perhaps," he leaned down to speak directly into her ear, his voice low and husky, "but I might not let you out of bed for the rest of the evening." Without another word, he picked her up and threw her on his massive bed, none too gently.

She let out a high pitched squeal and wiggled to the middle of the bed, pushing the pillows to the floor as she went. Draco was hovering over her in an instant, sucking on her neck as she finished the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders and running her hands down his lean torso.

"I want your blouse on the floor, Granger," he growled into her ear, sucking her earlobe into his mouth and caressing it with his teeth. Goose pimples broke out on her arms and across her chest as she made to quickly comply with his demands, excited by his newfound confidence. They'd been fooling around for months, and while Draco was never hesitant to let her know just how much he wanted her, he tended to let her take the lead.

She attempted to control her breathing as Draco lavished warm, open-mouthed kisses across her exposed stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly with her nails as she felt his tongue trace a circle around her bellybutton, his hands gently kneading her still covered breasts.

"Draco," she panted, trying to get his attention, but he was now pulling down the cups of her bra and running his tongue around one hardened nipple while he massaged the other between his knuckles. "Draco," she tried again, tugging gently on his hair, attempting to pull him up towards her. This, apparently, was the wrong move, as it only seemed to egg him on, and he gently bit down on her breast, sending a jolt of something warm and satisfying between her legs. "Draco," she called once more, a bit louder and more urgent. He looked up at her, wild-eyed, with his hair sticking up in every direction from her mussing, and his lips kiss reddened.

"Sorry, love. I got a bit carried away," he apologized, attempting to compose himself as he ran his hands down her sides, letting them settle at her hips and slipping his thumbs through her belt loops.

She chuckled. "Oh, I quite liked that," she told him with a reassuring smile "I was just going to say… well, I think I'm ready for a bit more. If, you know, you'd still like to." She blushed a little and undid the button and zipper of her denims, wriggling out of them, unaware that her gobsmacked boyfriend was staring down at her in disbelief.

"You're… you're sure, then? Because I don't mind waiting, love," he offered, doing his best not to let his eyes stray down to her barely concealed form, knowing it would cause him to lose all rational thought.

She smiled up at him, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. "Quite sure," she assured him, grabbing his hand and leading him to her covered core with a confidence she didn't know she possessed. Draco smiled at her before bringing his lips down to hers, slipping his hand under the lace of her knickers and trying to remember everything he'd ever read or been told about how to make this enjoyable for the little witch writhing beneath him.

He ran two fingers through her folds, relishing her wetness. At least I'm doing something right, he told himself, mentally patting himself on the back as he found the little button at the top of her slit with his thumb and watched Hermione shiver. He took his time, attempting to tease her while simultaneously learning every inch of her. He committed every moan and squeal to memory, every quickening of her breath and sigh, determined to learn exactly what she liked. After a few minutes, he experimentally slipped a finger inside of her, doing his best not to finish in his pants at the feel of her tight, silky channel around his finger or the thoughts of what she might feel like wrapped around his cock. He pumped his finger in and out of her, watching as her eyebrows furled and mouth opened into a delightful "O", knowing she was chasing her pleasure. The hiss Hermione released when he curled his middle finger and hit that special spot inside of her was something that he was sure he wouldn't forget for the rest of his life. She released a sad, little groan when he removed his hand from her, pulling her knickers down her legs and stuffing them in his pocket.

"Hermione?" he asked, and when she looked up at him with lust laden, cinnamon eyes, he knew he was a goner. "I was hoping... can I use my mouth on you? I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but… I'd really like to taste you, love."

He could see the gears running in her head and slipped his hand back down between her legs, rubbing light circles around her clit that made her shudder and close her eyes. She smiled a relaxed smile and languidly opened her legs to him with a nod, giving him full access to her lower half. He kissed her, and she could feel him smiling against her lips, before he kissed his way down her neck, her chest, her stomach, settling himself between her thighs and slowly running his tongue through her folds. She let out a delighted sigh, which quickly transformed into a loud, pleased moan as his tongue found her nub. Draco always appreciated how vocal Hermione was in bed, never hesitant to let him know when she was enjoying something, and this was no exception. He slipped his middle finger back inside her, rocking in and out of her in a way he hoped wasn't awkward, while she writhed and moaned, and he spelled his name on her clit with his tongue, determined to possess his independent, little witch somehow.

Draco knew her end was near as her breathing got heavier and her moaning got louder. He carefully slipped another finger inside of her and sucked her nub into his mouth. She screamed and unconsciously clamped down on his head with her thighs, keeping his face right where she needed it. He cast his eyes up to her as he tongued her clit, determined to watch her fall apart for him, and losing it himself at the sight of her rolling her own nipples between her dainty fingers, pure pleasure on her face. He rutted against the bed, desperately seeking a bit of friction as he came, lapping up her cream as it coated his hand. Soon after, Hermione had released him from her thighs, her legs falling bonelessly to the sides, as he came up to lay beside her.

She had a beautiful, relaxed, serene look on her face and, while Draco was rather embarrassed about his own untimely end, so to speak, he couldn't shake the feeling of masculine accomplishment as he watched Hermione recover from her orgasm. She turned to him, connecting their mouths in a sweet kiss, and relishing in the salty taste of herself on him.

"Sorry that I, erm… trapped you, there. I didn't mean to," she murmured against his lips, bashfulness in her tone and self-consciousness in her eyes.

"Are you kidding me? That was so hot, love," he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her in close to him. "I love that I made you lose control like that. So sexy." He kissed her again, basking in the glow of what she'd just allowed him to do. "Thank you for trusting me, sweetheart. I can't tell you what it means to me."

"Where'd you learn to do that?" she asked him, studying him with big, happy eyes, and running a hand through his soft hair.

He chuckled. "Lots of books, love."

"So you've never..." she trailed off.

"No," he shook his head. "I told you, you're the only girl I've ever wanted."

She smiled at him, running her hands down his neck, across his shoulders, and down his chest. "Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, running her hands down his stomach to the button of his trousers. "I almost forgot!"
He turned a bit red. "There's no need for that, love." She gave him a befuddled look. "Don't make me say it, Hermione," he pleaded, but she continued to look at him confused and a little rejected. He cleared his throat. "Watching you fall apart earlier was… exciting, for me."

She felt her cheeks color. "Oh!" She paused for a moment. "Really? You liked that?"

He nodded. "Every part of it. I think I might have a new favorite dessert," he told her with a wink, and she chuckled. He looked down her chest, still covered in lacy, red lingerie. "You know, I don't believe I got to take full advantage of this," he explained, running his finger under her bra strap. "In fact, I do recall being promised that I could see you in emerald."

She rolled her eyes at him. "It's not my fault that you were feeling impatient." He ran his hand down her side, tickling her at her ribs, relishing her laughter and happy squeals.

"Draco! No!" she choked out between giggles.

"What was that Granger? You'll model this for me later and let me turn it whatever color I desire?" He smiled down on her wiggling about under his fingers.

"Yes! Yes! Whatever you want!" she called, and he stopped tickling her at once, laying down beside her and pulling her into him to nuzzle her neck. "You great, spoiled prat," she playfully admonished, smacking him lightly on the arm.

"But I'm your spoiled prat," he spoke into her neck, laying a kiss there. They lay there for a while, chatting about nothing of consequence, Draco curled around Hermione like she was his lifeline, her running her hand soothingly up and down his spine. After a bit, Hermione made to get up, attempting to remove herself from Draco's grasp.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her, tightening his hold on her body.

"To freshen up before dinner," she explained, rolling off the bed.

He smiled a contented smile, knowing she'd be floored when she saw the adjoining master bathroom, complete with waterfall shower and a perfect replica of their tub back at Hogwarts. I'll make sure that the next two weeks are the best of her life, he thought to himself, getting out of bed to join Hermione in the shower.

Chapter Text

Ch. 23- On Holiday Break

Draco awoke to an empty bed. He searched the bedroom, the bathroom, and the rest of his wing before determining that Hermione was nowhere to be found and set off to look for her. Still clad in only his pyjamas, he momentarily considered what his mother would say if she had ever caught him wandering around without proper clothing on. He meandered through the hallways of his new home, admiring the smell of new paint and wishing he had remembered slippers as his feet trekked along the cool, marble floors.

He set a course for the library, assuming that the object of his affection had wandered there as soon as she was awake. Draco smiled to himself, imagining her creeping out of bed so as not to wake him and curling up in a wingback chair near the fire, wrapped around a tomb as large as she. He searched the stacks, calling her name and still coming up short. Confused, he had no other idea of where she might have run off to and continued stalking through the Manor to find her. Panicking, he called for Slinky, a wizened, old house elf whom Draco had trusted implicitly since childhood.

"Master Draco called?" he asked, briefly looking up at Draco with big, green eyes, before turning them quickly down to the floor.

"Hello, Slinky. I was wondering if you've seen Miss Granger?" he questioned, noting curiously that the elf was averting his eyes.

"Yes, Master. Her is being in the kitchens, trying to talk the cooks into letting her work. Miss is not understanding that we is doing the cooking, sir," he explained to Draco, eyes still downcast. Draco didn't have any more time to ponder this, however, as he set off to rescue the kitchen elves from his well-meaning girlfriend.

"Granger," he drawled from the doorway, taking in the sight before him. House elves were skirting around the witch, wringing their hands and trying desperately not to make eye contact with her lest she ask them if she could help with something else. He chuckled at the sight as Hermione was happily mixing something in a wooden bowl, completely oblivious to the turmoil she was causing his house staff.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, a wide smile on her face. He loved the way she looked in the morning, wild-haired and fresh-faced. Even though she had dressed for the day in her softest purple jumper and was no longer wearing the silky pyjamas he was so fond of, she still looked like she hadn't been awake that long. He loved that he was the only one that got the privilege of seeing her this way- before she tamed her hair and finished her tea, when she was at her most unvarnished. He returned her smile. "Good morning! I'm making breakfast."

He smirked at her. "You're terrorizing my kitchen staff," he explained, gesturing to the elves who were creeping around her.

"I am not! I'm helping them," she argued, setting her large spoon in the bowl and moving to where Draco stood in the middle of the room.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to figure out how to explain the situation to her kindly so she wouldn't get upset. "Sweetheart, this is very nice, but they really don't want your help. You're stressing them out. They're afraid that you being down here means that they aren't performing their duties correctly." Hermione made to argue, so Draco turned her around and gestured to the large group of elves cowering in the corner and eyeing her warily.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry," she apologized, making her way to the corner where the elves were and feeling even worse when they flinched. She moved back to her boyfriend, who was watching the whole exchange with an entertained smirk. "Draco, how do I make them see that I like to cook? I don't mind taking meals off, of course, but I like to do it every so often."

Draco looked down at her in amusement. His lovely, little swot wasn't used to not being the expert at something, and no amount of research could equate to growing up surrounded by their subject. Even if it was something as inconsequential as dealing with house elves (not that he would ever let her hear him say that), he was happy to give her his guidance, knowing his opportunities to do this were very rare. She had chewed him out when he had first mentioned the Manor's elves, but after a lengthy discussion and a bit of a fight that resulted in Granger storming off to the Hogwarts library, she had conceded that he had been mostly correct, and tentatively deferred to his opinion. She'd never stop trying to make their lives better, but she could accept that they preferred their pillowcases to clothing, that they were appalled by her offers of galleons, and that perhaps Draco knew a bit more than her about their predilections.

"Excuse me," he called in an authoritative voice, commanding the attention of the staff of elves. "Miss Granger didn't mean to offend. She's very pleased with your service, aren't you, Granger?" He looked over to see Hermione nodding her head emphatically, unshed tears in her eyes. "She wants you to understand that she's very happy with you all. You've done nothing wrong. This might be a little confusing, but Miss Granger likes to cook. She's a Muggle-born, you see, and is quite used to being in a kitchen. When she comes down here, it doesn't mean she's upset. Understand?" He looked down to see several little heads nodding, though none of them were directly looking at him. If it had been his father, they would have been punished for not giving him their undivided attention. How dare they behave as though I'm not the Head of this house! "Why in the blazes aren't you looking at me?" he demanded, his tone a bit angrier than he meant for it to be.

Slinky, who supervised the house and had come down to join the kitchen elves, responded bravely, "Forgive us, Master, but yous is not properly dressed. What would Mistress Narcissa thinks if we is looking at Master's chest, sir? Mistress would be most upset, sir." He tugged at his little trousers, eyes still averted.

He heard a little chuckle and turned to see Hermione attempting to stifle her laughter. "Think this is funny, Granger? I have decades of pureblood brainwashing to undo!"

She let out a real laugh, then. "I'm sorry, Draco, but it's funny! You're scandalizing your staff. Go put on a jumper like a proper gentleman."

He shook his head, wiping his hand down his face in frustration. "All right, everyone, listen here. My parents are no longer the heads of this house. I am. While you should certainly show my mother respect when she visits, I need you all to understand that this is going to be a vastly different household than what you're used to." He looked down at their little faces, all struck with varying degrees of horror. "I don't intend to take away your work. You can rest assured that there will always be plenty for you to do here. But the rules of decorum are going to be a bit more relaxed, okay? So from now on, if I'd like your attention, I want it whether I'm starkers or wearing dress robes. Understood?"

Hermione tutted. "You're being rude. At least say 'please', Draco. Honestly," she scolded, arms folded across her chest.

Draco rolled his eyes at her indignance, but turned back to the elves all the same and continued, "Thank you for your attention, everyone. Now, I'll be taking Miss Granger away so that you can get back to your work. We'd like breakfast in the library, please, in an hour."

He grabbed his girlfriend's hand and pulled her out of the kitchen, smiling at the relieved sigh of his cooks he could hear as they exited. He tucked her into his side, admiring the feel of the soft, purple jumper she was wearing and the smell of her hair.

"You left me alone in bed this morning," he accused, leaning down to speak right in her ear. He smiled to himself when he felt her shiver.

"I thought you might like a lie in," she explained, turning out of his grasp to walk backward in front of him. "Besides, I thought I'd make you breakfast in bed. Clearly my morning did not go as planned."

"Neither did mine," he told her, grabbing her front belt loops to pull her into him, leaning down to kiss her neck. "I had plans of ravishing you before breakfast," he whispered in his huskiest voice, still kissing down her neck. She enjoyed his ministrations for a moment before pushing him away.

"Draco!" she giggled, "Draco, stop it. You've already traumatized the house elves enough. What would they do if they caught us in the hall fooling around?"

He leaned down again to speak right into her ear, and she could feel his growing hardness pressed into her stomach. "You have two minutes to get to my bed. After that, I'm undressing you and burying my face between your legs, and I don't give a damn what room it happens in." He licked a line down her neck, reveling in her excited shudder of anticipation before she pushed him away a bit. Concerned he had taken it too far, he looked down to study her face, but she quickly extricated herself from his arms and took off down the hall with an excited peal of laughter. He smirked, admiring the curve of her arse in the muggle denims she wore, and took off after her, stalking her to his bedroom like a predator hunting his prey.

"Granger, I don't understand the point of this at all," Draco explained to her, taking a biscuit in hand and eyeing it warily. They had been staying at the Manor for three days now, and Hermione was determined to complete a holiday tradition every day, explaining that Draco had simply missed too much. He had happily gone along with whatever she wanted because she was insistent about filling his days with as much holiday cheer as possible, and he couldn't bring himself to deny her the happiness it seemed to inspire.

"We make biscuits, Draco. Mum and I, we used to make dozens of different varieties every year. Then, on Christmas Eve, you leave some out for Father Christmas. I understand that it's a bit different because the elves insist upon doing all of the baking, but we can at least decorate some of them!" She gestured at him with her icing-covered knife, brandishing it like it was her wand. She had a glob of pink on her cheek and a bit of blue on her chin, but Draco found her mess endearing and had yet to inform her of the color adorning her face.

"The biscuit bit I can understand. Who doesn't love sweets?" Draco shoved a whole biscuit in his mouth before Hermione could scold him. He turned to her as he frantically chewed, and she laughed at the wild look on his face and his attempt at defiance. He swallowed and kissed the tip of her nose before continuing, "It's this Father Christmas business I don't get. Muggles believe that some bloke dresses up in a ridiculous costume and takes toys to all the children of the world?" She nodded with a small smile, further baffling him. "But how is anyone supposed to accomplish that? Even Apparation would take too long- how is a muggle supposed to accomplish this in a sled? Not to mention it would be bloody expensive."

Hermione laughed at him. "It's just… Christmas magic. That's what muggle parents tell skeptical children. That's what my parents told me." She sighed, and Draco could tell she was thinking about her parents again. She'd taken to falling quiet and moping for a few hours each day, and it didn't take an accomplished Legilimens to know what was on her mind. Sure, they'd had fun ice skating and decorating the Manor- she had especially loved when Blaise, Ron, Ginny, and Harry came to visit and they had all had an impressive snowball fight, followed by hot chocolate in the library- but Draco knew that her parents would always haunt this time of year for her, and he only hoped to lessen her grief as time went on.

"Hey, love. Why don't we finish up in here, and then we can watch more Christmas films?" Draco had added an in-home cinema to the Manor's blueprints on a whim, but since they had been staying there, he found that he was thrilled he had. They had spent several nights curled up into each other in the comfortable seats, watching dozens of Christmas films that Slinky had retrieved from Hermione's parents' house. He found films to be delightfully entertaining and would never turn down an opportunity to have Hermione pressed close to him so he could hold her and breathe her comforting smell.

Hermione nodded, instructing him on the best way to spread icing with his knife. They worked for an hour, transforming the bland little blobs in front of them into stars and bells and trees. Or at least, Hermione did. Draco found that his looked more like random, colorful shapes with icing uneven and dripping over the edges, but Hermione didn't poke fun at them, and for that he was grateful.

The two settled into the plush, red fabric of the sofa in the cinema, and Draco pulled a blanket up over them. Hermione was relaxing into his side, resting her head on his chest, and he could feel the chill of her cold fingers through the thin material of his shirt.

Draco had found that the best way to deal with Hermione's melancholy was to tackle it head-on. He'd learned so much about her parents in the short week they'd been at the Manor together. She was attempting to explain to him why the American film they had just finished was a classic in her childhood home.

"I just don't understand, Granger," he argued, coiling and uncoiling an errant curl around his index finger and watching it bounce. "Why is it called 'It's A Wonderful Life' when the bloke's whole life seems quite pathetic? It's all in grey for Salazar's sake!"

She chuckled at him for a moment before explaining, "It wasn't actually grey, Draco. That's how they used to make films. You can't tell me wizard photography has always been done in color?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I've never taken the time to look into it." He leaned down to kiss her temple. "So your parents really like this Frank Capra bloke?"

She leaned into his embrace. "No, not especially. My dad loved Donna Reed. Said she was the perfect woman- it used to annoy Mum to no end!" She chuckled in her memory, and Draco loved the sound. "Mum and Dad were always so happy this time of year. I think it's why I feel the loss the most now. They had their issues and bickered sometimes, like any married couple, but none of that mattered during the Christmas season."

Draco sighed, rubbing his fingers slowly up and down Hermione's arm. "I'm sorry you lost them, love." He heard her sniffle and turn her face into his side. "I wish there was something I could do. Just know that I'll always be here. You can always tell me about them." He bent to kiss the top of her head, saying into her curls, "I like listening to your happy memories."

"You don't have any happy memories with your parents?" she asked, pulling at a loose string at the bottom of his muggle t-shirt. She felt him shake his head, and when he spoke, it was more vulnerable than she'd ever heard from him.

"Not really. I mean, you've met them. I love my mother more than anything, but she wasn't ever especially affectionate. My father…" Hermione thought she heard his voice break and shifted out of his hold, leaning back and pulling him with her. She moved to hold him instead, wrapping her arms around his much larger body and attempting to communicate to him just how much she cared for him. "Lucius was always awful. To me, I mean. They loved each other. I've told you this before, but my father reserved affection exclusively for my mother."

Hermione turned her face to kiss his ribs. "We can make happy memories now," she told him and felt him gently pull out of her arms.

"I'm glad you're here, Granger," he told her, kissing her sweetly. Then, gesturing to the stack of films he asked, "Another one?" He moved off of her as she nodded and got up to pick a film from her VHS collection sitting in the corner.

Later that night, after a hearty dinner of shepherd's pie, they sat side by side in the library, reading their respective books and absorbing the warmth of the fire. Hermione was sitting at one end of a soft, suede sofa, her feet in Draco's lap. He was absent-mindedly squeezing the balls of her feet while reading about the effect of Sopophorous beans on the limbic system. A faint pop from the fire brought Draco's attention away from his book, and he looked over at the pretty brunette sitting on his couch. He studied her furrowed brow, the wild curls piled on top of her head, and her chocolate eyes flying back and forth as they danced across the page of her book detailing an account of a Veela mate from the 1600s. Smiling to himself, Draco had a stray thought that he could stay this way for the rest of his life and be perfectly content.

"Granger?" he asked, closing his book and setting it on the side table. He waited for her to acknowledge him, knowing she wouldn't give him her attention until she had finished the paragraph she was in. Sure enough, she held up a dainty finger, signaling him that he would need to wait a moment before tucking a marker in her page and setting her book beside her.

"Yes, love?" she asked, smiling at him and stretching her arms over her head, twisting in her seat and groaning a little.

"Want to go on a walk?" he asked, standing up and brushing out the nonexistent wrinkles in his trousers.

"It's dark out there, Draco," she told him, getting off of the sofa to stand beside him and gesturing out the window.

He smiled down at her, taking her hands in his. "Scared? I'll keep you safe, love," he told her with a wink and a roguish smile. He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before drawing her into his arms. He brought his mouth to her ear. "Come on a moonlit stroll around the grounds with me, Granger."

She looked up at him, rolling her eyes. "Wait until I tell Blaise what a soppy romantic you've become."

He chuckled. "You just keep pretending like you don't enjoy it, you sassy bint." She giggled and he ushered her out of the library, one hand on the small of her back. "I'm the very paradigm of masculinity, my dear. My romantic advances leave you weak at the knees. You can't help but wonder how so much thoughtfulness and romance are wrapped in such a fetching package. You swoon whenever I'm near. Let's be honest, Granger, you've truly got the full parcel."

"And so very modest," she told him, smirking up at him. She studied his sharp jawline, his flawless, porcelain skin, and the rakish way his hair fell into his eyes, making him look like a fallen angel. Belatedly, she thought to herself that he was right, of course, and she was a lucky witch indeed.

"Who has time for modesty when you look like this?" he joked, wiggling his eyebrows at her comically.

She laughed out loud and followed him to the cloakroom, where they bundled up in warm hats and gloves, Hermione throwing on snow boots before Draco wrapped her in a fur-trimmed cloak made of deep purple wool. He took her hand, threading her arm through the crook of his elbow and leading her through the house to the ornate French doors that opened to the back gardens.

They walked in contented silence for a while. Hermione admired the frozen tree branches glinting in the moonlight and the way their crunchy footprints tainted the perfect blanket of white as they moved across the gardens. Even the flowers in the ever-blooming garden were tipped with frost, making their colors wonderfully pearlescent-- Hermione didn't know if she had ever seen something so beautiful. For his part, Draco knew he certainly hadn't ever seen anything as beautiful as the little witch whose fingers were tangled with his own. She was transfixed, staring at the crystals swirling on various flower petals, dark eyes alight with wonder. He took in her wind-nipped cheek, rosy nose, and the way her curly hair was matting up with the moisture from the snow that had begun to fall around them. She smiled up at him then, and his stomach did a little flip at the pure delight painted on her pretty features. He pulled her along through the garden and on to the snow-strewn lawn.

"I have a surprise for you, Granger," he told her, his deep voice clear in the hush of the world around them. It was easy for Hermione to imagine that they were the only two people on the planet.

"A surprise?"

"You mentioned a while ago that you like the ballet. I thought you might like to accompany me to The Nutcracker?" He paused for a moment to study her expression, which was both slightly confused and intrigued. "I've never seen it, but in the spirit of accomplishing all things Christmas I thought--" his explanation was cut off as Hermione finally seemed to process what he was offering, as she squealed in delight and threw herself into his arms, catching him off guard and sending them both backward into the snow.

She peppered his face with kisses. "I would love to go to the ballet with you! I can get a gown and we'll dress you up in a muggle tuxedo! You'll look so handsome."

"Of course I will, I look handsome in everything," he told her, sitting up with her still in his lap.

She rolled her eyes at him, but took his face between her gloved hands, placing a sweet, lingering kiss on his lips. A concerning thought suddenly occurred to her. "How did you get Harry to agree to this?"

"Right… about that, love," he told her, rubbing his neck and not meeting her eyes. "I promised a private guard could accompany us."

"Is that really necessary?" she asked. "I mean, we'll be in the muggle world."

"I'm not willing to take any chances with your safety, Hermione," he told her firmly, noting the use of her first name.

She gave him a hesitant nod and smiled at him. "Very well. I'll accept the private guard with no complaint because it still means a night out with you." She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him again.

A few days later found Hermione and Ginny in the master sitting room. Hermione, being unable to venture out to shop for herself, had requested that Ginny find a few dresses to choose from for the ballet. The girls had promptly kicked Draco out of his wing, sending him to search for Blaise, so that he didn't see Hermione's choices- she wanted to surprise him as she had done for the Halloween masquerade.

"This place really is gorgeous, Hermione," the redhead raved, sitting back on a chaise lounge made of mint green silk. "I can't even begin to imagine what Draco spent on renovating it."

"I know," Hermione agreed from the bedroom where she was wiggling into another dress. "I don't like to think about it." The brunette headed back out to the sitting room, where her friend was waiting.

Ginny shook her head. "I still like the red one better."

Hermione nodded, looking down at the mess of indigo fabric wrapped around her body. "I agree, but I'm worried the red is a little cliche."

"How so?"

"On top of my being a Gryffindor and red being exactly what Draco would expect, it's also a yule color. Everyone will wear red." She surveyed herself in the floor length mirror Ginny had conjured, taking in the unflattering way the silky fabric bunched on her hips. "Not to mention it looks like Julia Roberts' dress in Pretty Woman."

Ginny gave her a puzzled look as she exited the room to put the red dress back on. "What is Pretty Woman? Some muggle reference, no doubt?"

Ginny heard Hermione's muffled chuckle from the other room. "Yes. It's a film my mum used to love. I wasn't supposed to know about it, of course, as it's not really appropriate for children. But there's a scene where the couple goes to a ballet and the leading lady wears a tight red dress…"

Hermione stepped back into the sitting room, and Ginny surveyed her beautiful friend. Delicate straps held the gown up, though they both agreed that even without them the dress wasn't going anywhere as the crimson fabric clung to Hermione's body like a second skin. There was a generous dip in the front exposing a bit of cleavage and a slit in the front that ran just above her knee. It was tasteful, but sexy, and exposed enough skin that Hermione felt naughty without feeling cheap. She knew that with tall, white gloves and her hair smoothed out, she'd feel quite proud to hang on her stunning boyfriend's arm for the night.

"You look beautiful, 'Mione," Ginny reassured her, taking in the happy, confident smile on her friend's face.

"You don't think I should wear the slinky green one?" Hermione asked, turning away from the mirror to look over her shoulder at her friend.

"I think this is more appropriate for the occasion," Ginny explained, shaking her head. "You looked lovely in the other dress, of course, but this is more sophisticated. Maybe wear the other dress for Draco's New Year's party?"

Hermione's face lit up. "You're a genius, Gin! That's perfect." She bent down to hug her friend before making her way out of the room to change back into her black stirrup leggings and one of Draco's white oxfords. After she was done, she went back to the sitting room, settling into the chair opposite Ginny's chaise.

"How has your holiday been?" the brunette asked, laughing at Ginny's eye roll.

"Fine, I suppose, but there's never any privacy. There's always someone around. Usually an overbearing brother. The few times I've snuck over here to visit you have been some of the best parts of the break, honestly."

"Ginny!" Hermione admonished. "You don't mean that. Your family misses you!"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, and I missed them as well, of course. But cramming all of us into a tight space for a fortnight wasn't the best remedy as I'm now ready to murder them all. What I need is a long nap, an uninterrupted shower, and a good shag."

Hermione snorted at Ginny's candor. "Well, I'm sure Draco wouldn't mind if you and Blaise wanted to stay the night. You wouldn't even have to interact with us- we could stay in Draco's wing for the night and give you guys some time together."

Ginny looked at her, awe-struck. "Hermione Granger, you're an angel. Let's go find the boys and ask them."

Hermione chuckled, but let Ginny pull her through the winding hallways of the Manor. They giggled as Ginny pointed out the various ways in which the Manor could clearly use a woman's touch, and Hermione went red when Ginny joked that Draco must have been hogging all of Hermione's "touches". They finally found the boys in the library, swilling 70-year-old Firewhisky Blaise had filched from his mother's newest boyfriend while Draco attempted to explain all he understood about rugby. He had taken an extreme interest in the telly, and when Harry had come over a few days before to discuss Hermione's case, the two had gotten quite distracted as Harry walked Draco through the world of muggle sports.

"Hello, ladies," Blaise crooned as Ginny sat on the arm of his chair and he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Draco," Hermione began, sitting next to the blonde on the sofa and leaning into him when he pulled her closer, "would it be okay if Gin and Blaise stayed with us sometime soon?"

"Of course it's okay. You don't have to ask before you invite someone over," he answered. Turning to his friend he said, "You should have said something, mate."

Blaise chuckled. "I didn't know this was happening."

"I just thought that--" Hermione started, but Ginny cut her off.

"I need a break from my family... and a chance to shag my boyfriend," the redhead explained in a matter-of-fact voice, completely ignoring her surprised boyfriend, who was choking on his drink.

"A little warning next time, love," Blaise said, wiping the distressed tears that had briefly poured from his eyes.

Draco barked out a laugh. "You're my favorite Weasel, Red. Of course you guys can shack up here for a night. Stay for two, if you'd like!" He wrapped his arm a bit tighter around Hermione, squeezing her hip and laying a quick kiss on her temple.

"That's settled then. Best you come tomorrow," Hermione explained, "Thursday is Christmas Eve and we'll be at the ballet, and after Christmas time will go so fast! Before we know it we'll be back at Hogwarts."

Hermione was amazed at how quickly her break was blowing by. She wasn't sure if she had ever experienced such a brief holiday, and that included the years she spent skiing with her parents-- she hadn't ever wanted those Christmases to end. She was quite amazed that she and Draco hadn't killed one another yet. They'd bickered, as they always did, but she found it truly remarkable that, thus far, they'd made up and moved on rather quickly. She was used to spending a great deal of time with him at school, of course, but there were always others around and they had taken breaks from each other's company for classes and time alone. The past week, though, had been extended exposure between the two of them with no reprieve. Their friends had come to visit, but Draco and Hermione had remained almost completely in each other's company. Hermione knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that this was a momentous step in the right direction for the two of them, but she was too content to evaluate what this step could possibly mean. As far as she was concerned, they still had a fledgling relationship, and she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But for now, she was determined to enjoy her time with him as much as possible.

The two spent their days occupied with whatever holiday activities Hermione had decided on. They had watched more Christmas films than she realized she even owned and had numerous snowball fights. Their friends had joined them in tobogganing down the many hills of the Manor's grounds and in ice skating on the frozen pond in the back garden. Hermione delighted in being the only one to know just how much Draco had loved decorating the Manor, and he blushed with pride when Hermione had complimented his singing voice when she'd caught him singing God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs under his breath. He'd sang a bit more openly after that instance, hoping to catch her attention again. Hermione was making good on her promise that this would be Draco's best holiday ever.

Every night they'd gone to bed wrapped in each other's embrace, usually after exploring each other's bodies and bringing each other endless amounts of pleasure. Hermione was slowly becoming more comfortable with being unguarded in bed, allowing Draco to learn her body as well as he knew his own, and she was growing more and more confident in giving just as good as she got. One particularly memorable morning, Draco had awoken to Hermione's tongue on the underside of his shaft-- it hadn't taken her long to learn exactly how Draco liked to have his cock sucked, not that he was surprised, swot that she was. Draco couldn't believe he'd waited so long to pursue his little witch, reflecting on how much time they'd wasted, and knowing that he couldn't ever be with any other witch like this for the rest of his life.

Hermione woke on Christmas Eve to the sound of Draco's light snores. She smiled to herself, taking in the strained expression on his sleepy face and the line of drool running from the corner of his mouth to his pillow. Clearly, he was having an intense dream, as he would mutter a nonsense word every so often, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowed. She pushed the fringe out of his face, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, before slowly getting out of bed, determined not to wake him.

She pulled on her favorite black jumper of Draco's and a clean pair of knickers, then made her way to the library. She had made strides over the course of the previous week and a half in organizing the books, finally finishing the day before when Ginny and Blaise had disappeared for the night and Draco had excused himself to his study. She'd relished the mindless labor as it wasn't something she normally had the opportunity to do and taken pride in knowing that, no matter what Draco did to prepare the rest of the house, the library was hers. Draco had come to help her once or twice, but typically left her alone to her work, and she was grateful. She'd tried to explain to Ginny her system-- a variation of a standard Dewey Decimal system-- but her redheaded friend had very clearly not been interested and had instead pressed her for information about her and Draco's bedroom progress.

Padding along down the hallway, she stopped briefly to look out a large window overlooking the property. This is so surreal, she mused, admiring the vast, snow-covered grounds. I'm staying at Malfoy Manor- admittedly, a new Malfoy Manor, but still… There's no way anyone could have foreseen this a year ago.

Hermione grabbed a biography about Artemisia Lufkin, the first female Minister of Magic, and settled into her favorite seat in front of the fire. At some point, Slinky popped in with tea and toast, setting it in front of Hermione and eyeballing her until she picked up the toast and took a bite, smiling her thanks. She had long suspected that Draco had the elves monitoring her eating habits, and Slinky wasn't even remotely subtle about it. She'd assured him that she ate plenty, but Draco insisted that she was frail and needed to be reminded to eat or she would forget.

Hermione sat there reading and nibbling on her breakfast for a little over an hour. She was so engrossed in reading about how Lufkin established the Department of International Magical Cooperation that she didn't hear the library door open or sense the Slytherin making his way over to where she was lounging on the sofa. He watched her, always amazed by how attractive he found her when she was reading, before coming up behind the couch and laying a kiss on the top of Hermione's head. She jumped in surprise before looking up at her boyfriend hovering over her on the sofa.

"Draco!" she scolded, "You scared me, you prat!"

He laughed. "Good morning to you, too, love," he told her, kissing her hair again and moving to sit beside her on the sofa. "What're you reading?"

She went into an explanation describing her interest in Lufkin and all she had learned in the few short chapters she had already consumed. Draco smiled at her, loving the way her eyes lit up when she yammered on about something she was passionate about. His eyes raked over her messy curls, her freckled nose, her swan-like neck, and landed on her willowy, little body, covered in his black jumper. She had taken to wearing his clothes lately, a habit he certainly wasn't upset about. Hermione was still insistent that she belonged to no man, but a certain primal, primitive part of him still felt its ego stroked seeing her covered in his clothing, bits of her bare skin revealing his love bites. He realized that she was still talking to him and tuned back into the conversation before she could accuse him of not paying attention.

She had marked her book and was gesturing at the library now. "...and besides, I finished up sorting the books last night. It makes much more sense now, I think. I can show you around if you'd like."

He shook his head. "You can show me later. We should work on getting your books here, love, so you can add them to my collection."

She gave him a dumbfounded look. "My books?"

"Yes. Unless you don't want to mix them? We could probably set up a separate space for them in the bedroom or study?" He looked around, taking inventory of the remaining space in the library, completely oblivious to Hermione's confusion.

"But Draco… my books coming here… I'd have to take them from my parents' house. That's rather permanent, isn't it?"

He looked at her in bewilderment, suddenly aware that she wasn't on the same page as him. "It is, of course. I'm sorry, love, I shouldn't have been so presumptive."

She smiled at him. "That's not to say I wouldn't like to move my books in here someday… but perhaps let's wait until we've been together a bit longer, yeah?" She reached out to him, where he sat beside her, grasping his right hand between both of hers, squeezing it tightly.

He looked at her, aware for the first time in a long time that she truly had no idea the extent of his affections or the longevity of his intentions. He nodded at her, placatingly. "Of course, love. Whenever you want. You've got a bit here to keep you occupied in the meantime." He gave her a warm smile and reminded himself that they'd only really been together three months. Of course she's hesitant, you dolt. Five months ago she still believed you hated her! She needs time.

Hermione took in the internal warring that was evident on Draco's face. He'd fallen into a habit of letting his impartial facade slip when they were alone, and she delighted in those brief moments of reading his thoughts on his face. "Draco," she cooed, speaking in her gentlest tone and moving to sit in his lap, "I want to be very clear that that wasn't a rejection of you or your home. You just… you move very fast sometimes." She sighed and took his face in her hands, willing him to meet her eyes as she felt his arms twisting around her waist. "You have to understand that this is all still quite new to me. You say you've had these feelings for me for years, but I've only had them for months. I just need time to catch up, that's all. I do care about you."

He nodded and reached to give her a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose. "I don't mean to overwhelm you, sweetheart. I'll work to…" She felt his hand trailing up and down her spine, as he appeared to be searching for the right words, steadfastly refusing to meet her eyes, before continuing, "...rein in my affections. You've got to understand that this is a serious thing for me. Courting in my world is rather significant. We don't do the casual dating thing that's rather common for muggles. I'm more than happy to give you whatever time you need to adjust to me and to 'us' but… I just want you to understand that I don't take this lightly. My feelings aren't casual."

She laughed. "Yes, you've made that abundantly clear." She felt she needed to mollify him when he blushed. "The way you treat me is any girls dream, Draco. I'm just not normal. I need more time. I have to convince myself that this is all real, you know? None of this is logical." She kissed him sweetly to ease the blow of what she knew she had to say next. She took his face between her hands and forced him to meet her eyes, pleading with him to understand where she was coming from. "I think some part of me is worried that, as soon as I let myself get completely invested in this, in us, you'll call me a 'mudblood' and hex me. I know that's not who you are anymore… but you can't blame me for being cautious."

He sighed, and his disappointment and self-loathing was painfully evident on his face and in the dejected droop of his shoulders. "Of course I don't blame you," he told her, hating himself for the small kernel of resentment he felt that she still couldn't trust him. He pushed it down, detesting himself even more, knowing she had every right to distrust him. He swallowed. "You've given me more of a chance than any other witch would have in your position. I'm grateful for any tenderness you're willing to give me because it's certainly more than I deserve. I know you don't like it when I get self-deprecating and whiny, so I'll stop." He buried his face in the crook of her neck, reveling in Hermione's comfort as she wrapped her arms around him, taking a calming breath in and letting her scent flood his senses. "Just… just know that I don't blame you. And that if I'm overzealous in my endearment or displays of devotion, I don't mean to be. I don't want to overwhelm you. All you need to do is tell me."

She shook her head, pulling his head off of her neck and smiling at him in a way that she hoped was reassuring. "I don't want you to stop being who you are. I appreciate your devotion and all the thought you've put into our relationship. I don't even mind your endless considerations of our potential future... or the fact that you're biting your tongue right now because I said 'potential' and you're so certain of us that you want to correct me." She paused, chuckling softly, pleased that Draco was smiling genuinely at that statement as well."I'm glad you are certain of us and of this relationship. That's heartening. I'm just… not there yet. And I need you to understand that, because I don't want you to get that sad, kicked Kneazle expression every time I hesitate and take it as a personal rejection. Because it's not."

He pulled her in closer to him, resting his hands on her arse and giving her a long, passionate kiss. He lost himself in her for a moment, trying to quell her uncertainties with his lips and his tongue and his passion. He heard her release a little moan and knew he had, perhaps, taken the kiss a little too far- he'd never meant it as foreplay, only as reassurance. He pulled away, his grey eyes softening as they met her amber ones, so content with the care he saw reflected there. He felt like he could study them forever- cinnamon swirls set in walnut colored eyes, so warm and comforting, the complete opposite of his own cool eyes. He smirked down at her, tightening his hold around her waist.

"Enough of that seriousness now. It's Christmas Eve. What activity has my delightful Gryffindor decided we should occupy ourselves with before the ballet tonight?"

Hermione stood in front of her mirror, double checking her appearance. She'd used her wand to straighten her hair and pulled it into an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck, leaving a few elegant strands of hair framing her face. She slid into her tight, red dress, and pulled on long, white gloves. If I'm gonna do Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman,' I might as well fully commit, she thought with a chuckle, slipping a pair of delicate pearl earrings on her ears. After doing a quick glamour to her eyelashes and lips, making her look sultry but not overdone, she tucked her wand into a red clutch, noting her perfect timing when she heard Draco's knock on their bedroom door.

"You look gorgeous, Granger," he told her, eyeing her appreciatively and taking her hand, twirling her in a circle for his full inspection. "I'll be the envy of every bloke there tonight."

She smiled at him, taking a moment to appreciate his appearance. His blond hair was disheveled in a carefree, roguish manner, but she knew he'd spent an inappropriate amount of time fixing it to look just so. She took in the purpled love bite on his pale neck that he hadn't properly glamored and the perfect cut of his Armani suit, the source of their first real fight over the holiday. She had lectured that he shouldn't have spent so much money on a simple black suit, and he had argued that if he was going to wear muggle clothes, he wanted the best muggle clothes he could get his hands on. Their spat fizzled out, never really resolved, and Hermione hated acknowledging just how sinful he looked in his black suit, crisp white shirt, and sleek, black bowtie.

"See something you like?" he asked, looking down at her with his most devilish smirk and noting the glazed over, lust-filled look in her eyes.

She had the grace to blush but met his eyes with a defiant look. "I suppose I do. You look quite handsome, love," she told him, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek. He preened a bit at her attention before escorting her through the halls of their home to the Floo room.

"I've never been to a ballet, Granger," he told her sheepishly, slipping her arm through his as they came through the fireplace at The Leaky Cauldron. He dusted off his trousers and his posh cloak before turning and giving her cloak-covered shoulders the same treatment. He then laced his fingers through hers and pulled her out the door onto Charing Cross Road. Hermione hailed a cab, and he continued, "Mother has been, of course, but I've never attended. Potter warned me that this isn't something I'm going to enjoy. Should I be concerned?"

She snorted, pulling him into the car with her. "You'll be fine, Draco. You're a bit more cultured than Harry, aren't you?" She gave him a playful wink, lifting an eyebrow at him in challenge. She felt quite proud of herself, using what little Slytherin cunning she possessed. She patted him on the arm, subtly urging him to shut the door behind him.

He smirked over at her. "Nice try," he whispered in her ear, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and trying to pretend he was completely comfortable with his first experience in an automobile. Truthfully, he wasn't, but Hermione had assured him it was perfectly safe, and he knew it would be a quick ride as they were just driving down the street.

She rolled her eyes, leaning into him. "Behave yourself tonight," she whispered in the most seductive tone she could muster, "and when we get home you can see the surprise I have for you under my dress."

His eyes widened and he swallowed heavily. "What kind of surprise?" he asked, unsure of what to do now that the car had stopped outside the Royal Opera House. Hermione leaned forward to pay the driver before discreetly showing Draco how to open the car door.

She let him help her out of the car and as he threaded her hand through his elbow, escorting her inside with the grace born all of his impressive pureblood breeding. Her curls brushed his shoulder as she leaned in to whisper, "You'll find out later if you're a good boy." Draco was quite certain he could be a good boy.

He led her to their grand tier seats, pleased with her excited tittering, and casually noted the put-upon looking Aurors clad in muggle dress clothes, who had been inconspicuously following them since The Leaky Cauldron. He made a quick note about where they had stationed themselves before they were hidden under a disillusionment charm, thinking that Potter was probably lurking about under that damned cloak of his. He couldn't find it in him to be annoyed, however, as Harry was determined to keep his best friend safe, and she looked happier than he'd seen her in a while now that she was out in the muggle world and not cooped up in the Manor.

When the lights went down and a hush fell over the audience, Draco turned his attention to the stage. He watched as party guests twirled about in old-fashioned gowns, quickly realizing that watching the ballet wasn't nearly as fun as watching Hermione. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the colorful costumes and impressive set pieces, chuckled when Fritz was spanked for breaking Clara's toy, and gasped theatrically when the Mouse King appeared, though Draco knew she had seen this very show before with her parents. He registered, briefly, that the muggle ballerinas pranced about the stage in costumes akin to underthings and wondered how his prim and proper mother had tolerated that, returning to the ballet more than once. Draco felt no extreme desire to repeat this experience, but he could tell by the look on his girlfriend's face that he would be finding himself at the ballet again. And if that look stays on her face, he mused, watching as the lights came up and Hermione clapped for the end of the first act, perhaps I'll continue to be rewarded with naughty surprises.

Hermione looked over at him, smiling and pushing a rogue lock of hair out of his eyes. "What do you think?" she asked him, nibbling on her lower lip in the alluring way she knew drove him wild.

"I think if you keep that up I'm dragging you to the loo," he whispered scandalously, delighting in her amused giggle.

"Draco, be serious!" she playfully admonished, tapping him lightly on the arm.

He smirked over at her. "Granger, it's fine. I don't find it especially inspiring, but I can tell you're very pleased. I like it when you get all dressed up anyway. I get to escort you around and glare at all the men who look too long."

She shook her head at his candor, rolling her eyes but still smiling. "You're incorrigible. No one else who looks at me gets to take me home tonight," she told him, reaching over to kiss his cheek. He caught her off guard, turning his head at the last second to catch her lips with his. Their kiss was brief but hardly chaste, and Hermione felt in it all his wicked promises for later.

He leaned in to nuzzle her ear, whispering, "What's my surprise, Granger? Just give me a little hint. What're you wearing under that lovely dress of yours?"

She turned to him with a smirk of her own, one he was thoroughly proud of. As the lights began to go down again, signaling the start of the second act, she leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Absolutely nothing." She gave him a saucy wink, silently praising herself for the flabbergasted look he was making absolutely no attempt to conceal.

As the music began and Clara arrived at the Land of Sweets, Draco leaned over to her. "Wicked witch," he chastised, and she only laughed.

Draco tried, desperately, to pay attention to the performance. He watched as numerous dancers representing various countries leapt and spun in colorful costumes, noting faintly that what they were doing was surely impressive. Unfortunately, he had no appreciation for it, as all he could think about was the tempting witch beside him. Shifting in his seat and routinely checking his timepiece, he counted down the minutes until he could get Hermione home.

Draco watched as Hermione gazed in wonder when the Sugar Plum Fairy took the stage, clad in a sparkling tutu of pale pink and a glittering tiara . Her brown eyes were big and innocent, alight with fascination as the ballerina completed an impressive series of pirouettes. Watching her merriment and relishing in the effervescent joy so evident on her pretty face, Draco felt a warm, glowing feeling in the pit of his stomach, spreading out through the rest of his body and threatening to suffocate him with its intensity. Like apparition, the thought just popped into his mind- he loved her. He'd been trying to suppress the realization, pushing it down so as not to overwhelm her, but in that moment he was quite certain he'd never love anyone the way he loved the brilliant, beautiful witch sitting next to him.

The rest of the night passed in a bit of a blur for Draco. He escorted Hermione home, snogging her in the back seat of the cab like some common chav and all but dragging her through the Floo at The Leaky Cauldron. She giggled as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck and throat, lifting her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He was quite aware that he was being frantic and frenzied, but he couldn't help himself-- he was bound to be a bit uncontrollable after hearing Hermione's declaration. But following his own realization, he had absolutely no handle on his control. He carried her to their bedroom- for as much as she liked to call it his, he knew he'd never be able to share it with anyone else- threw her down on the bed and climbed on top of her. Taking great care to slowly unwrap his present, he peeled the red dress off of her, dutifully occupying Hermione's attention for the rest of the night.

Sometime later in the early hours of the morning, the two lay twisted in blankets, talking in blissful whispers about nothing of consequence, unashamed in their nakedness with one another. Draco ran his hands through Hermione's hair, taking advantage of the fact that she had straightened it for the ballet (normally, if he tried to card his fingers through her soft curls, they'd get painfully tangled and she'd get mad). He'd tried cuddling with her, but she would squirm away with a giggle, content to talk in hushed whispers, both afraid to upset the quiet tranquility of nighttime at the Manor.

"Draco, ow, move your elbow out of my back!" Hermione groaned, twisting away from Draco's tangle of limbs.

"This wouldn't happen if you'd cuddle like a regular bird and just lay on my chest, Granger," he teased, rolling to his back and ungracefully pulling her with him.

She rolled her eyes. "I love sleeping beside you and waking up next to you, but you're all skin and bone and lean muscle, which makes you the least comfortable pillow in the world."

He barked out a laugh at that, flipping them over so that she was beneath him. "Well then," he told her, settling his face between her breasts, "I suppose you'll just have to be my pillow, won't you?"

She let out a girlish giggle, attempting to wiggle away from his hold. "Draco, get off!"

He burrowed further into her, wrapping himself tightly around her waist. "What? Why? I don't have that excuse! You're all soft and squishy…"

She let out an indignant snort. "Squishy, am I?"

He chuckled, kissing his way down her sternum. "You know what I mean, love. You're soft in all the right places. Womanly. I like it."

She giggled as the light stubble on his face rubbed into her stomach, tickling her sensitive skin. "Yes, well, see that you don't call me squishy or you won't get to see my squishy body ever again." She carded her fingers through his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp, relishing his hum of appreciation. He placed another lingering kiss at the top of her abdomen, and she took a moment to memorize the warmth of his lips on her skin.

"It's certainly past midnight at this point. Happy Christmas, Granger," he whispered into her stomach, stroking her sides with his thumbs.

"Happy Christmas, love," she responded, equally quiet, and let the feeling of his strong thumbs on her ribcage, his silky hair in her fingers, and his warmth all around her lull her to sleep.

Chapter Text

Ch. 24- On Christmas

Hermione loved Christmas- she always had. She had glorious memories of racing down the stairs before the sun was up, wild-haired and toothless, determined to examine what had been left under the tree. Her parents would join her, though they made her wait until a respectable hour to wake them, and the three would sit cross-legged on the floor clad in red, flannel pyjamas. Her parents would 'ooh' and 'ahh' when she ripped shiny wrapping paper off of packages of all sizes revealing books and chemistry sets and baby dolls. When the paper had been cleared and the presents tucked away, the real holiday fun would begin. They would spend the whole day together, laughing, eating, and singing. Her best Christmas memories involved her parents. It was the only day of the year she ever saw them eat sweets in excess, and she still chuckled at the memory of her Herculean father daintily nibbling on Maltesers and Jelly Babies. The best tradition, though, was the music. She would sit beside the grand piano with her mum, playing yuletide duets, her father's melodious voice ringing out throughout their home, warming Hermione in a way nothing else could.

Over the past eight years, Hermione had spent Christmases at the Burrow and Christmases at Hogwarts. At the time, it had seemed so important to stand by Harry and Ron, though if she had known she had a limited number of Christmases with her parents, she might have done things a little differently. Last year, she had been on the run, and Christmas had almost passed without her knowledge. After the episode with the godforsaken snake at Bathilda Bagshot's house, she wished that it had passed without her knowledge. Hermione knew that this year would be different. It would certainly be different than the Christmas on the run, and for that, she was nothing but thankful. It wouldn't be a Christmas with her parents- warm, familiar, and simply happy- and it wouldn't be a Christmas at the Burrow or at Hogwarts- full of boisterous merriment and commotion. Still, she had high hopes for this year. Draco had made the entire holiday break memorable thus far, even when they weren't doing much of anything; she just loved being around him.

Hermione woke on Christmas morning to Draco's silver eyes studying her from his pillow. He smiled when he noticed her stirring and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She leaned in to place a kiss under his jaw and felt him nestling into her hair as he muttered a faint 'good morning'. It then occurred to Hermione that their bedroom was bathed in sunshine. She'd never slept so late on a Christmas before.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, rolling away from him and taking the blankets with her. "Why didn't you wake me up? It's Christmas!"

"You looked peaceful," he replied with a shrug and a small smile.

She groaned, crossing the room to a chest of drawers. "You can watch me sleep some other time, you creepy prat!" she lectured, pulling on a red flannel pyjama shirt from Draco's drawer that she was certain she'd never seen him wear. Stepping into a pair of knickers, she continued her scolding. "It is not proper to wake up after the sun is up on Christmas morning."

He chuckled, rolling out of bed and pulling on the sleep trousers that matched the shirt Hermione now donned. Well, don't we make a lovely, domestic scene, he couldn't help but think to himself as Hermione dragged him down the hall. He watched her crazy curls bounce every which way, completely untamed, as she pulled him along. Vaguely, he acknowledged that she was bemoaning the cool, marble floors, but he dare not point out that she was the one that rushed them out without socks on, lest he face her wrath. He wasn't quite sure what Hermione's yuletide rage might entail, but he knew he wanted no part in it.

When they finally ended up in the formal parlor, Hermione's eyes lit up at the site of the Christmas tree lit up in all of its holiday glory, the bottom overflowing with beautifully wrapped packages. She pulled him along and scolded him firmly when he attempted to sit on the couch, instructing him that Christmas presents must be opened on the floor. He chuckled at her insistence but sat across from her all the same, willing his legs into the confounded pretzel position that Hermione was so fond of. If only my mother could see me now… shirtless and sitting on the floor with my Muggleborn girlfriend. Merlin help us all.

The two traded back and forth, opening presents and remarking on each other's gifts. They both received jumpers from Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione was amused to see that she'd made them in matching colors. Their combined stack of sweets from various friends was astounding. It made Hermione feel guilty, as she knew her parents were likely rolling in their graves, but Draco assured her he'd eat her half to save her heavy conscious, an offer which made her giggle. Their stack of books was equally impressive, and Hermione made Draco promise to share his with her when he was finished reading them. He was quite upset that Hermione wouldn't let him see Ginny's present, as her face had turned bright red the instant she opened it, but she hesitantly explained that it was something he could look forward to seeing on her later, and he quickly shut up, not wishing to press his luck. Draco received quite a few Quidditch related items, which made Hermione roll her eyes, but he looked delighted and that made the sport slightly more redeemable in her eyes. All in all, their haul was rather impressive.

When at last, all of their other presents were open and accounted for, Hermione and Draco turned to each other to exchange their presents. Hermione thought it funny that Draco had wrapped her gifts in emerald green paper with silver ribbon, while she chose to wrap his in crimson and gold. House loyalties run deep, she thought as she scooted closer to Draco, shoving her stack of gifts under the tree and sitting so that their crossed knees touched.

"I've never put so much thought into Christmas presents before. Especially for a bloke. Ron and Harry are so easy… but I wanted to find things that you'd really love," she explained shyly, picking up a long, rectangular box.

He smiled at her, encouragingly. "I'll love whatever you've found, sweetheart. They're presents from you, which makes them special in their own right."

She blushed at his charming words. "Still, I hope you genuinely like them." She gestured to the package in his lap. "Go on, then. Open it!"

He took the present in his hands, ripping off the paper and opening the box to reveal a rare book by Zygmunt Budge detailing his work with squill bulbs. As an aspiring potioneer, Draco appreciated anything having to do with potions, their creators, or their components. He hadn't told anyone, including Hermione, that he'd been spending his free time studying Felix Felicis and it's properties- she would have no way of knowing that she'd purchased the perfect title.

She cleared her throat. "It's rather rare… only five copies remain. They were a single run print in the 1600's. Three of the others are owned by wizarding museums." Hermione knew Draco was the only other person who would appreciate this book as much as she did- she loved it for the history, but he was sure to appreciate it for the potions aspect. Sure enough, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped, as he reverently ran his hand down the front cover.

"Granger…" he began in astonishment, "How in the name of Merlin did you find this? Or afford it?"

She beamed at him, nodding her head. "I knew you'd actually appreciate it. I made friends with a bookshop owner in the wizarding village in Hallstatt, Austria. I have him look for uncommon and old titles for me. When he told me he'd found this…" She shrugged, blushing deeper and looking down at her hands in her lap. "I knew you'd love it."

He took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply, though innocently. "I do love it. It's perfect. I can't wait to read it!"

"And let me borrow it?"

"If you're good," he told her with a wink, pulling out a small, emerald wrapped box and placing it in her lap.

She opened it, revealing a stunning necklace and earring set. The necklace was a simple, delicate gold chain, and Hermione was afraid that she might break it if she wasn't careful. Hanging from the chain was a beautiful round-cut emerald- easily four carats, she thought- surrounded by a halo of little, perfect diamonds. It was dainty and elegant, but clearly outrageously expensive. The matching earrings were the same emerald and diamond combination, though reasonably smaller as they had to hang from her petite earlobes.

"Draco," she gasped, fingering the gem as it lay in its velvet box, "This is stunning!"

He smiled widely. "A ginger birdie told me emeralds would match your frock for New Years? I was hoping you might wear these, then. And whenever else you'd like, after that."

She nodded, leaning over to place a chaste kiss on his lips. She'd never owned such expensive jewelry before Draco came into her life. For her thirteenth birthday, her parents had given her a pair of diamond earrings, which she had promptly lost somewhere in Hogwarts, and they'd vowed not to buy her anything so expensive after that. She didn't consider herself a materialistic girl, by any stretch of the imagination, but she had to admit that she loved the pretty, sparkly baubles Draco insisted upon hanging around her neck.

Draco cleared his throat. "It's a two-part gift, I suppose," he explained, pressing another small box into her hands. Puzzled, Hermione ripped off the paper to find another black velvet jewelry box. She flipped it open to find another necklace, this one far simpler than any jewelry he had given her before. It was yet another delicate chain, this one in shining platinum with a dainty configuration of tiny diamonds connected by thin strands of platinum, like some pricey connect-the-dots puzzle. She studied it for a moment before realizing the diamonds were arranged to look like Draco's constellation. The precious stones twinkled in the light from the Christmas tree and she was reminded of the night in the garden at the Burrow when she'd promised the Slytherin sitting across from her that they'd rewrite the story of the dragon in the sky.

"I realize it might seem gauche to give you two necklaces for Christmas… obviously the other is a bit more formal. I was hoping you might find a bit more everyday use out of this one." He blushed, and she fought the urge to giggle. Any other man asking to lay his claim to her around her neck, like a collar for a prized show dog, would upset her. Why, then, did she find this to be so utterly charming?

"Of course I will," she told him, reaching to grab his hand and giving it a quick, reaffirming squeeze. "Would you put it on me?" she asked him, handing him the box and turning her back. She pulled her hair out of the way for him and felt his nimble fingers fixing the tiny clasp on the back of her neck before placing a quick kiss there.

Turning back around, she handed him a second box, and he opened it revealing a handsome, muggle jumper in a striking, ice blue. He eyed it, smiling at her. It certainly wasn't something he ever would have bought for himself, but he knew she enjoyed it when he wore muggle clothing. The jumper, he realized, was the same color as the shirt he wore when they went to the muggle nightclub - the night he had admitted his feelings for her.

"I like you in that color," she told him with a nonchalant shrug, but he wasn't fooled- there was heat and excitement in her lovely eyes. He vowed to purchase more clothing in this specific icy shade.

"I look good in every color," he told her with a smirk, and he relished in the happy sound of her laugh. "Thank you, love. I look forward to wearing it soon."

"I look forward to that, too," she replied saucily, winking at him despite the blush on her cheeks. He smiled and handed her another crimson-wrapped present. It was incredibly thin, and Hermione knew it couldn't contain much more than parchment. Curious, she pulled back the wrapping to reveal what appeared to be intricate maps of the sky. She looked at him, perplexed.

He chuckled nervously. "It's a star."

"You…" she stammered, baffled. "You bought me a star?"

He shrugged. "There's a Draco up in the sky. I just figured he'd be a lot happier if there was a Hermione up there, too." He blushed, pulling at a rogue string on the hem of his sleep trousers. "To keep him company, you know."

An all-consuming smile covered her face. "I love it, Draco. That's so thoughtful. Thank you!" She placed a quick kiss on his lips, grabbing another gift and setting it in his lap.

Draco tore into his final present from Hermione, a pair of cufflinks in the shape of the Malfoy family crest. They were gorgeous and intricate, every detail perfect from the scrollwork to the jagged points of the 'M'. He was utterly flummoxed, for the second time, as they sat under the tree. How had she managed something so undeniably perfect for him?

"You like them?" she asked, thinly veiled insecurity evident in her warm, cinnamon eyes.

He smiled at her- one of his honest, soul-warming smiles that he reserved for her. "I love them," he told her, closing the tiny box and taking her hands in his. He loved that she knew him so well and loved that she was thoughtful enough to put effort into gifts that he would really enjoy. Hell, he just loved her, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult not to shout it from the Manor's turrets.

Hermione opened her last gift from Draco- a new cauldron. Made of synthetic fire crab shell and equipped with self-stirring capabilities, it was far nicer than the simple copper one she had purchased on her first trip to Diagon Alley.

"Draco love, thank you so much!" she emphatically thanked him. "How in Godric's name did you know I needed a new cauldron?"

Draco smirked at her and gave her a shameless wink, looking quite proud of himself. "I listen when you talk about things, Granger. I've heard you complain about your cauldron from time to time."

In truth, she'd been heavily hinting that she needed one since she'd partnered with Neville in potions a few weeks back when he'd ruined a simple regeneration potion and her cauldron in one go. She was pleased that Draco was perceptive enough to pick up on all of her hinting, though she'd never let him know she'd all but told him what she wanted. "Well, you're incredibly clever, love. It's wonderful! There are so many features… I can't wait to try it out. We might have to brew together before we go back to school," she told him with a grin, and he smiled back, clearly pleased with her suggestion. He loved potion-making, and brewing with Hermione was even better because it afforded him the opportunity to show off a bit.

After their gifts were opened, the two made their way to the informal dining room, where the elves had laid out toast and tea. Hermione had argued days ago that they should have a full, hearty breakfast like she'd shared so many times with her parents, but Draco had reminded her that they'd be attending Christmas dinner at the Burrow and Mrs. Weasley would be devastated if they didn't have room for her turkey, plum pudding, or any of the dozen other dishes she made. Instead, she'd loaded her toast with more marmalade than was reasonably appropriate, looking forward to Molly's roast potatoes and mince pie.

"Quit pouting, Granger," Draco told her, adding milk to his tea and stirring delicately.

"I'm not pouting," she snapped, taking an unnecessarily aggressive bite out of her toast.

He chuckled. "You are. I'm sorry we aren't doing breakfast your parents' way, but you don't want to upset Mrs. Weasley anymore than I do. I want to be plenty hungry when we go over for Christmas dinner." He watched her sigh, setting down her toast and sucking stray marmalade off of her finger. "I thought perhaps we could start some new Christmas traditions this year," he murmured in a hushed tone, looking down at his tea. He knew his mother would be appalled at his manners, slouching at the table like a commoner, but he could list off twenty other things she'd not like about the scene and chose to continue slouching.

He heard Hermione clear her throat and looked up to see her smiling at him. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea," she told him, picking up her toast again.

Sometime after they'd finished their tea, Draco coaxed Hermione into the bath. The two enjoyed a long soak filled with vanilla-scented bubbles and not-so-innocent touches, culminating in a heavy snog. Draco washed Hermione's hair for her, something they discovered they both really enjoyed, and she wanked him off under cover of the blanket of bubbles floating on the water. It took everything inside of him to not tell Hermione the depths of his affection as he felt her tiny hand massaging his favorite appendage and her wet body pressed up against his. When he'd finished all over her hand, though the water quickly washed his essence away, he roughly picked her up and lifted her out of the water, setting her on the side of the tub. Before she had a chance to question him, he latched onto her clit with his lips, plucking her sensitive nipples with finely honed precision and bringing her to a screaming orgasm in record time.

They'd both dressed rather leisurely after that, giving each other soft smiles and gentle caresses as they covered themselves with additional garments. They made the perfect picture of puppy love; two besotted teenagers, unable to keep their hands off of each other, giddiness painfully apparent. Hermione loved the way she felt when she was with Draco- powerfully feminine and wholly wanted. He liked her body as much as he liked her mind, which wasn't something she was accustomed to. She thought back to Ginny's words from their pre-break girl's night. Ginny had seemed so superior in her knowledge, so certain she knew the depth of Hermione's feelings. Reflecting on the time she'd spent with Draco over their break, Hermione couldn't help but think that perhaps Ginny did have some sort of insight that she didn't, having never been in love before. Hermione didn't think she could classify her feelings as love- logically, it wasn't possible, as they hadn't been together long enough- but she felt as though she might be on the fast track, headed in that direction.

"Granger, please don't make me wear this," Draco whined, pulling at the itchy indigo jumper with a white 'D' emblazoned on the front.

"Draco, everyone wears them at Christmas dinner! Do you want to feel left out?" she asked, hands on her hips. When he looked like he looked like he was about to give her a snarky response, she continued, "Do you want to hurt Mrs. Weasley's feelings?"

He sighed and shook his head, letting Hermione take his hand and lead him to the Floo room. Walking along, and vaguely listening to Hermione listing off the various family members who might be present at the Burrow, he admired her in her jumper and jeans. The indigo color looked lovely on her olive skin and hugged her body in the most attractive way. He knew that the Weasley boys were likely to take the mickey when they showed up in matching purple sweaters, but he couldn't bring himself to care when she smiled at him so happily.

Stepping out of the fireplace at the Burrow, Hermione's heart constricted gratefully at the familiarity of it all. George had Ron in a headlock while Luna looked on, giggling. Charlie was sitting next to Bill, debating something quite emphatically, while Bill caressed Fleur's small baby bump. Harry was in the corner with Teddy, and Percy seemed to be discussing something on the sofa with Arthur and Xenophilius. She felt Draco come through the Floo behind her as Ginny came through the back door wrapped in a thick cloak. The whole room was clad in their brand new Weasley jumpers, and she turned to Draco with a triumphant grin, indicating the sweater-clad clan sitting around the room.

At the sound of the Floo, Molly came through the kitchen door, Andromeda trailing behind her, both wearing splattered aprons and wide smiles. "Oh good! Hermione and Draco are here. That makes the last of the group, unless," she turned to her daughter, "Ginny dear, you're sure Blaise won't be joining us?" Ginny shook her head and Molly continued, "Very well, very well. Then we'll be eating soon, you lot." She pulled Hermione and Draco into a hug, kissing Hermione on the head and forcing Draco to crouch down so she could place a kiss on his cheek. "Happy Christmas, you two! Had a good day so far?"

Draco thought back to the wonderful hour he'd spent in the tub with a wet, naked Hermione. "Oh yes, my best Christmas so far," he told her, smiling happily.

"Oi, Ferret!" they heard Ron call, still being held captive by his older brother who, despite being shorter, was much broader. "Come help me out, would you?"

Hermione snorted. "Asking for help by calling him names isn't your smartest move, Ronald," she lectured as Molly sent a stinging hex at George's bum, causing him to yelp and release his brother.

Hermione moved to the corner, kissing Harry on the cheek before taking Teddy from him. The two sat and caught up, Hermione telling Harry all about the ballet, while Harry created colorful bubbles with his wand, releasing them in Teddy's direction. She wondered, briefly, where Draco was, smiling when she saw him playing exploding snap with George and Ginny. She found herself pleased that Draco seemed to fit in so well with her surrogate family. She never would have thought she'd see the day when a Malfoy willingly spent his Christmas with the red-haired brood, but she had a feeling that he was enjoying himself, which warmed her heart. Sitting with Harry and Teddy, she quickly surveyed the room, and her heart felt blissfully full- she couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy.

When Molly called them all to eat, Hermione joined Draco, covertly slipping her hand into his. She tamped down the girlish sigh that threatened to escape when he brought their joined hands to his mouth to press a kiss to hers. She wondered if she'd ever get used to the sweet, simple ways he showed her affection, or if they'd always bring a blush to her face like she knew she was currently sporting.

Sitting down at the table, Hermione found herself between Draco and Harry and across from George. She laughed as Draco and Harry filled their plates, piling on heaping helpings of the various dishes Molly had scattered around the table. No one could compare to Ron, though, who was shoveling turkey into his mouth even as he continued to fill his plate. The whole table was full of raucous laughter and rambunctious joviality. Molly blushed as Bill loudly complimented her cooking, causing the whole table to break out into cheers of agreement. Charlie entertained them all with stories of dragon taming and skirt chasing, and Luna and Xenophilius expounded the many dangers of nargles, who infest mistletoe, a real concern on Christmas Day.

After dinner, Ginny organized a family game of Quidditch. With Charlie home to claim his position of Seeker, Draco was relegated to Chaser for Harry, with Bill as Beater, and Ron as Keeper. Ginny chased for Charlie, with George as Beater, and Percy trying his hand at Keeper. Hermione stayed inside, cuddling with Teddy on the couch, chatting with Luna, and listening to Molly and Andromeda croon Christmas carols while they swilled eggnog spiked with the rum Charlie had brought home from Romania.

A few hours passed before the rest of the family joined them. Bill sat down in an armchair by the fire, pulling Fleur into his lap, so enamoured with his beautiful wife that he was completely oblivious to everyone else in the room. Hermione watched them wistfully, hoping to be that in love someday. She saw visions of a slightly older version of herself, perched on a faceless gentleman's lap in front of a fire, completely immersed in each other while chaos bustled around them. A moment later, she realized that the fire was in the Manor's library, and the faceless man was actually her blond beau. This was the first time she'd really considered what she'd like from her future with Draco, and that made her smile. Draco removed his snowy cloak and came to sit beside Hermione, nuzzling her neck with his cold nose. He took Teddy from her, making silly faces at the baby, and she laughed.

"Something funny, Granger?" he asked, turning to her, bouncing a babbling Teddy on his knee.

"I just never thought I'd see the day when Draco Malfoy made faces quite like that," she explained, unsure if his cheeks were rosy from embarrassment or from his time outside on a broomstick.

"He likes it," he told her with a shrug. "Don't you, Ted?" He lifted Teddy into the air, and the baby squealed out a delighted giggle, clapping his little hands.

She kissed his cheek. "I don't doubt that he does," she told him. She watched the two of them interact, Teddy babbling away in his nonsensical baby language and Draco talking back as though they were having a legitimate conversation. Teddy reached for Draco's nose, pulling on it and giggling madly, while Draco tickled his little, round belly. In his delight, Teddy's hair had mimicked Draco's white-blond, but he still retained her brown eyes. Once more, she found herself confronting a possible future with Draco, and she found that the thought didn't scare her as much as it normally would.

Harry came over to retrieve his godson, and Draco reluctantly handed him over. "I like watching you with him," Hermione whispered in his ear as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side. He kissed the top of her head and wondered if she'd noticed Teddy's appearance before Harry collected him- he'd been a perfect blend of the two of them, and Draco couldn't help but think about what babies would look like with Hermione's warm, expressive eyes, adorable button nose, or her dainty hands and feet.

The two soon found themselves engaged in conversation with Xenophilius, though Draco quickly saw Hermione's temper flaring when he began prattling on about some made up creature, and so he carefully maneuvered them across the room without offending the batty, old wizard. Hermione got caught up in an animated discussion about werewolves with Bill, and so Draco agreed to a round of wizard's chess with Ron.

At half seven, the two said their goodbyes, promising Molly they'd write and reminding Harry, Ron, Luna, George, and Ginny about the gathering at the Manor on New Year's Eve. Mrs. Weasley sent them home with tins of toffees and fudge, and Hermione had to all but drag Draco away from Teddy, who seemed just as reluctant for his older cousin to depart. Fleur laughed, promising Draco a full time babysitting opportunity when their little one arrived. He tried to play it off as a joke, but Hermione knew that he'd jump at the chance, should they ever ask.

"I'm going upstairs to change, but after, would you like to read together for a bit in the library?" Hermione asked as they came through the fireplace at the Manor. Draco agreed, brushing soot off of his trousers.

Hermione made her way up the stairs, tracking the course she now knew so well. She was excited to go back to the routine of her life at Hogwarts, but she knew she'd miss the Manor. She hadn't counted on the happy memories she'd made there, the love she felt for the house elves, or the pull of the library she now considered hers. As she slipped into lacy sleep shorts and a matching silk camisole, she reflected on her time spent with Draco. He'd made this holiday so lovely, and they still had a week until the New Year. After that, Narcissa would be released. Hermione wondered if that would change things for them at all.

She pondered this as she meandered back into the hall and toward the library. She knew Draco loved his mother very much. She was also aware that he had told his mother months ago of his interest in her. Surely he had told her that they were together, but he'd never mentioned how she felt about it. Lucius was certainly furious, but Draco had made it seem like Narcissa was a bit more open-minded than her husband. Perhaps she could learn to like me, Hermione thought, rounding the corner to the beautiful double doors that hid her beloved haven. Entering the library, she took in the distressed furrow of Draco's brow as he shoved a bit of parchment into his pocket. That distressed look made her ponder what Draco would do if his mother didn't accept her. Would he choose me? Could I let him?

"What have you got there, love?" she asked him, gesturing to his pocket. At the sight of her, his expression immediately softened and he made his way over to her with a small smile.

"Nothing," he told her waving his hand carelessly in the air, before wrapping his arms around her waist. "I've been thinking, Granger…"

She chuckled. "That's hardly ever a good thing. Thinking about what?"

He laced his fingers through hers, pulling her over to her favorite sofa, in front of the fire. "We always read together- typically at opposite ends of the couch - but we have a lot of shared interests, Granger. Why don't we try reading together?" He gave her a shy smile, and she bit back the urge to laugh.

"Read together?" she questioned, pushing his fringe out of his face. She loved running her fingers through his hair. How does he get it so soft?

"Yes! You know, all curled up together. You can hold the book, I'll hold you. I could read over your shoulder." He took in the incredulous look on her face. A few moments passed and she still hadn't responded. "Dammit, Granger! It's cute," he grumbled, crossing his arms in a distinct pout, reminding her so much of the eleven-year-old she met for the first time on the Hogwarts Express.

She couldn't help herself, she laughed. "You're cute," she told him, uncurling his arms and crawling into his lap. He huffed, and she kissed his nose. "And you're very sweet, but I don't think we should read together," she told him, playing with the long hair curled around his ears. He desperately needed a haircut.

His nose scrunched in an adorably disgruntled way. "Why not?" he asked, finally wrapping his arms around her.

She blushed. "You don't read as fast as I do. I don't want to wait to turn the page."

He rolled his eyes. "Spoiled brat," he teased, but burrowed his face into her cleavage, running his hands along the curve of her hip, letting them wander down to cup her arse.

"You're one to talk," she retorted with a smirk, running her fingertips soothingly across the top of his back. She heard him sigh before he extracted himself from her chest. He met her eyes, and she noticed that he looked a little strained. His grey eyes were melancholy and uncertain. It made her heart tighten. "What's wrong, Draco?" she asked, bringing her hands to cup his jaw. "Are you really this upset about the reading thing? Because we can, if…"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "No, of course not. I… I have one more present for you, love. But I'm worried you won't like it," he explained, taking in the worried crease in her brow and the concern swimming in her warm, expressive eyes.

"Draco," she cooed, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. He closed his eyes at the sensation. "Of course I'll like it. Whatever it is. Don't ever worry about that."

He sighed, opening his eyes to meet hers again. "You don't understand, sweetheart. This is a bit different."

"Why didn't you give it to me this morning?" she asked, removing her hands from his face and wrapping them around his neck.

"I told you, it's different," he explained, moving her off of his lap and standing up. "If you don't like it… well, I wanted you to have a good day. I figured I'd save it for last. Wait here."

She watched him leave the library, growing worried now at what this could possibly be. He's concerned that this could ruin the holiday, she thought, biting her lip. She heard the distant sound of his study door opening, and then a horrible thought occurred to her. Oh Merlin, what if he's planning on proposing!? She instantly paled, unsure what to do. How could she tell him no? It would certainly crush him, but she knew she couldn't say 'yes.' She heard him enter the library again, and she attempted to school her expression into one of curiosity as opposed to the dread she was sure she was sporting. He came to sit beside her on the couch, clutching a thin manila folder in his hands.

"I don't know how to do this…" he told her, staring down at the folder in his hands. She wiped her palms on the sofa, suddenly aware that they had become unbearably sweaty. Slowly, he handed the folder to her. Confused that he wasn't down on one knee, she took the folder, opening it curiously and inspecting the parchment within.

It took a moment for her to register what she was seeing, and then a gasp escaped her lips and tears filled her eyes. "Draco?" she asked. "Is this what I think it is?"

He looked up from his lap, meeting her eyes slowly. "They're death certificates. Helen and Richard Granger's death certificates. You… I wanted to give them back to you, somehow. This was all I could think of. I had to work with Kingsley and Confund quite a few muggles, but…" She was openly weeping now. "Hermione, love… please don't cry. I'm sorry. I should have left it alone."

She aggressively shook her head. "No, no, you misunderstand," she explained between wails, her tears making her voice thick and weepy. "This is… thank you, Draco. I can't explain what this means to me."

He kissed her temple. "I would have liked to have brought them home, but I didn't want to have them moved, seemed a bit dodgy, so I got them a proper headstone. I paid for the engraving already, but I haven't had it done yet. I thought you should pick what it says."

At that, Hermione lost control, curling into Draco's side and soaking his shirt with her tears. He held her, rubbing circles on her back and whispering soothing words of affirmation into her hair. He'd thought of this moment hundreds of times in the weeks that he'd been working on this surprise, but he'd never imagined a complete meltdown. He knew that there was a possibility she'd be upset, but now he was regretting having done this for her as he was finding it hard to take the anguished cries wracking her small frame.

For her part, Hermione was touched. The sobs she couldn't seem to turn off were for her parents, who had been taken from her in the cruelest of ways, and for Draco, who had done everything he could to give them back to her. She felt broken. She'd spent months grieving for her parents, and even after she felt that she could move past their loss, she couldn't forgive herself for taking away who they were. Draco had found a way to give them back to her… to give them back their identities. They still died without knowing her, which is something she couldn't undo, but with their proper identities restored, she felt like she could finally grieve them properly.

Her cries finally subsided to sniffles, and Draco felt her breathing regulate before slipping into the slow, consistent rhythm that Draco recognized as her sleeping. Sitting there for a moment longer, he reflected on the day. Even with the rather bittersweet ending, it was the happiest Christmas he could remember. He scooped her into his arms, careful not to jostle her too much, and moved quickly and quietly to their bedroom.

"Draco," she whispered, peeking up at him from where her head was resting on his chest. He gently hushed her, and she settled back into his arms, letting him carry her to bed. When they arrived at their bedroom, he set her on the bed, and went to his chest of drawers, pulling out sleep trousers, completely oblivious to the now wide awake brunette laying in his bed.

She watched as he quickly disrobed, taking a moment to study him. She'd become very acquainted with his naked form, but studying him from a non-sexual standpoint was something else entirely. She noted the sinewy muscles of his back covered by unblemished porcelain skin, the way his moon-bright hair stuck up on one side, and the lines of his muscular legs. He was at his most handsome when he was unguarded. She enjoyed studying him, so caught up in it that she missed the surprised look on his face when he turned to find her awake and staring at him.

He smiled indulgently down at her. "Can I help you, Granger?" he quipped, crawling under the covers with her and pulling her close.

She shrugged, completely nonplussed about being caught staring. "You're nice to look at," she told him, kissing his chest.

He barked out a laugh. "You're great for my ego," he responded, laying a kiss in her hair and squeezing her hip.

"Your ego is just fine without me," she snorted.

They were quiet for a moment, thinking and appreciating the tranquility of the Wiltshire countryside. Draco felt the gentle rhythm of Hermione's hot breath on his bare chest and twisted a soft curl of her hair around his finger. "Feeling better, love?" he asked in a whisper, hesitant to return to Hermione's previous melancholy, but determined to make sure she was okay.

He felt her nod against his skin. "Yes," she answered in the same low whisper. "Draco… thank you. I don't know how I can ever thank you enough. You've given them back to me."

He sighed, blowing her curls away from his face. "I wish I could do more, love."

"You've already done enough. More than enough. You're so good to me, Draco," she told him, reaching up to stroke his face gently.

He took a deep, steadying breath. "I'd do anything for you, Hermione… I love you," he told her, somewhat abruptly. He took in the surprised look in her face, from her rounded eyes and lifted eyebrows, to the adorable, little 'O' her lips made. He was pleased to see no fear or apprehension on the lovely face he'd come to know so well, only shock. "I know we talked about not moving too fast, and I know that this very much seems like I'm doing just that… but you told me not to stop being who I am. And this is me. I truly don't expect you to say it back, and I won't say it again until you're ready to hear it, but I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you."

Her thumb stroked his cheek slowly, and she felt herself falling into those quicksilver eyes of his lit by the moonlight pouring in through the window. He was so honest. He hadn't always been good, but he was getting better each day, and she knew without a doubt she was falling for him. It made the next thing she had to say so difficult. "I don't want to say it until I know I mean it, Draco," she whispered, insecurity evident in her tone despite the fact that he had made it quite clear that she had all the power in their relationship.

He kissed her forehead. "I meant what I said, Granger. I don't need to hear it back. That's not why I told you. I just… I want to be honest with you always. I know you're not there yet, and that's all right with me. You've made my life so much better just by being in it, love. I'll wait forever if I have to."

She tilted her head up to receive a long, lingering kiss from Draco, one that left her breathless. Curling herself into his chest and relishing his warmth, Hermione reflected on her holiday, her break, and her time with the blonde underneath her. He was thoughtful and patient and made her so unbelievably happy.

Not a bad Christmas, she thought to herself, recalling her previous Christmases. In a way, she'd had a bit of all of those holidays, as well. Draco had given her her parents back, and celebrated some of their traditions with her- she was thoroughly convinced that her parents would have loved Draco. He had willingly gone to the Burrow, allowing her to spend Christmas with her surrogate family and, even better, he seemed to enjoy himself. He'd given her a glimpse at how perfectly he could fit in with the people who were already so important to her. They'd made their own traditions, too, which made her happy and left her feeling inexplicably warm inside. At the beginning of their break, she'd vowed to give Draco the perfect Christmas because of all of his previous subpar holidays… she hadn't counted on him making her holiday perfect, as well. She smiled gratefully over at the slumbering blonde beside her, and listening to his snores, she let sleep take her, as well.

Chapter Text

Ch. 25- On A New Year

Boxing Day came, and with it came Harry. He was delighted to finally have a friend he could share muggle sports with, and Draco seemed to be excited that the world of athletics offered more to enjoy than just Quidditch. Hermione giggled as the two hunkered down in front of the ridiculously large telly Draco had in their lounge, surrounded by muggle snacks courtesy of the house elves. She made herself busy throughout the day with school work and independent research, but stopped by several times throughout the day to check on them. She watched as Harry animatedly explained to Draco the various rules of football, and he was pleased when the Slytherin seemed to have eagerly caught on, and by her third time checking in on them, Draco was just as immersed in the match as Harry was. She chuckled as they quickly embraced each other in a masculine hug when Arsenal beat West Ham, breaking apart embarrassedly almost at once, but they didn't seem to even notice she was observing them.

The rest of the week passed in a blur. There were visits from friends and trips to the Burrow. Hermione and Draco brewed potions together, read together, and ate together. She loved spending time with him, but she was looking forward to a break. They'd gotten into a row on Tuesday when Draco had casually mentioned he was thinking of buying Manchester United.

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione scolded, hands on her hips and nostrils flaring in annoyance, "you do not need a football team. You've only just learned about the sport! Honestly, that's just reckless."

He rolled his eyes. "Money isn't an issue for me, Granger. We've discussed this. I thought you'd be pleased I was taking an interest in diversifying my financial holdings to muggle things as well."

"Just because you have money doesn't mean you should just go throwing it all about. That's obnoxious," she snapped, getting up from the window seat in the solarium, where she had been sitting next to Draco.

"You're being ridiculous. It's my money, and I can spend it on whatever I want," he lectured haughtily, turning up his chin and crossing his arms.

She laughed humorlessly. "Do you hear how spoiled you sound?" she bellowed. "Do you know how many people would benefit from the galleons that you're just throwing at a sports team? Quit being blasé about it, Draco. You're being a prat!"

"Maybe that's who I am, Hermione!" he shouted at her, catching her off guard. Even when he had maliciously teased her, he hadn't ever yelled at her. "Maybe I am a selfish, spoiled prat! You knew this was who I was when you decided to be with me."

"Oh, don't get started on this self-deprecating nonsense again, Draco. I'm tired of it," Hermione told him with a groan, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Maybe you're just sick of me, Hermione? This is who I am," he again stated, not backing down. He crossed his arms across his chest and levelled her with an angry stare. "If you don't like who I am, then end it, but stop trying to change me!"

"I'm just trying to help you!" she yelled back, storming through the glass solarium door and into the hallway. She heard Draco charging after her.

"I get it, Granger. You're a better person than I am." His voice was dangerously low and unnervingly calm, and a shiver ran through her at the cold look in the silver eyes. They hadn't looked so hard in a long time. "You're a good person and I'm a selfish, horrible bastard. I'm not going to apologize for who I am." He took off down the hall, and she knew he was going to hole himself away in his study.

"Quit being melodramatic, Draco! You're being a baby!" she called after his retreating back. Frustrated, she made an impulse decision and stormed off to the Floo room, headed for the Burrow.

She came through the fireplace, brushing soot off of her trousers and straightening her shoulders in defiance. Walking through the house, she made sure to call out every so often so as not to catch Mrs. Weasley off guard. The ground floor was suspiciously empty, and so she headed up the stairs to the Ginny's bedroom, pushing open the door to find it also empty. Sighing in frustration, as she was hoping to speak with someone and she wasn't allowed to go anywhere else, she settled down in Ginny's bed, grabbing a magazine off of the nightstand and burrowing under the covers.

Laying there with nothing else to think about, as Wonder Witch's "10 Ways to Wear Your Wand" just wasn't keeping her attention, she began to wonder about her case. She hadn't heard anything in weeks, and she wondered if there truly weren't any updates, or if Harry and Ron just weren't including her. She hated to think it was the latter, but the former scared her. No news sometimes meant good news, but if her would-be attacker hadn't done anything in awhile, it meant he or she was planning something.

Her thoughts returned to Draco. He'd been so protective since this whole thing had started. At times, annoyingly so. She wondered what had gotten into him today. He'd never shouted at her before, and he'd certainly never insinuated that he thought they should break up. Though, looking back, Hermione realized he had almost been challenging her. I don't think he really meant that I should break up with him at all… it's almost as if he just wanted me to tell him that I wouldn't. What a fussy prat.

At some point, Hermione must have drifted off to sleep because she woke to a confused Ginny calling her name. "Hermione?" she asked, coming to sit beside her friend on her bed.

"Hi, Gin. Sorry, I should have let you know I was here. Where were you? The Burrow isn't ever empty!" Hermione rushed out, sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"We went to Diagon Alley. Mum wanted to get some things for me before we head back to school, and then we stopped to see George," she explained flippantly, taking the magazine from Hermione's lap and tossing it on the ground. "Why are you here, 'Mione? Is everything okay?"

Hermione took in the panicked look on her friend's face and immediately felt guilty. "Everything is fine!" she assured the redhead, scooting over so Ginny could sit beside her. "Draco and I had a fight, and I just didn't want to be at the Manor right now. I'm rather limited on places where I can run off to, I suppose," she joked half-heartedly.

Ginny took her hand. "What did you fight about?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know," she confided, squeezing Ginny's hand. "I mean, yes I do, of course. We were technically fighting over Draco buying a muggle sports team… Somehow I think we weren't fighting about that at the end." Hermione ran her hand down her face in exasperation, a habit she had picked up from Draco. Then, in a smaller voice, she continued, "He yelled at me, Gin. He's never really yelled at me before."

Ginny uncurled their hands and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "He's just tense, Hermione. This is stress behavior- he's acting out. One little fight doesn't mean anything- you yell at him all the time and he doesn't go running off. Try not to overreact and listen to the context of what he's upset about. Any fool could see how much he cares about you."

"He told me he loves me," Hermione whispered, looking down at her lap so she didn't have to meet Ginny's eyes.

"He what!?" Ginny exclaimed, twisting herself in bed so that she and Hermione were face to face. "How could you not have mentioned that? When?"

Hermione swallowed. "On Christmas. And before you start in on me, I haven't told you yet because I've been processing."

"Oh, Hermione…" Ginny started, concerned. "You said it back, didn't you?" Hermione shook her head. "That's what this is about. He's feeling insecure."

"I actually don't think so," Hermione explained. "I mean, you're probably right that he's feeling insecure… but I don't think it has to do with me not feeling ready to tell him I love him. He told me he didn't care about that, and I believe him."

Ginny's face scrunched in confusion. "What's he insecure about, then?"

Hermione carelessly waved her hand in the air. "Who knows. He's always on about something. When he was shouting, he was talking about how I'm a better person than he is. So we're on that again." Ginny was about to respond when they heard the Floo go off downstairs.

"Hermione!" they heard Draco's frantic voice call from downstairs. They heard him moving around, knocking into things. Ginny leapt off the bed.

"She's up here, Draco," she shouted, calling down to him.

Thunderous footsteps charged up the stairs, and then he was burst through the door and pulled Hermione into his arms before she knew what was happening. He had his arms around her in a vice-like grip, burying his face in her hair, and Ginny quietly excused herself from the room.

"I thought you were gone," he told her shakily, placing a quick kiss over her pulse and pulling her even tighter into him, threatening to crush her with his affection. "I thought I'd run you off and they'd gotten to you."

She pulled away a little, taking his face in her hands. "I'm fine, Draco. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. I just needed to cool off, and we weren't exactly speaking when I left…"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have shouted at you," he apologized, and she felt her heart breaking at the pain so evident in his silver eyes. "I felt horrible as soon as I did it."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't tell you how to spend your money. If you want to buy a football team, then--"

He cut her off with a kiss. "No, you were right. You always are," he teased with a smirk. "I should wait until I know more about the sport before I start investing. In the meantime, I should put funds toward more charitable pursuits."

"Draco, I don't want you to do that because you think it's what I want. I don't want you to resent me in ten years because I wouldn't let you buy a football team or a yacht or whatever," she told him, lacing her arms behind his neck and pulling him to sit down on the bed with her.

"Plan on sticking around for ten more years, Granger?" he asked, a giant smile on his face and mirth in his voice. She blushed, and he continued, "I won't resent you, sweetheart. I'm not saying that I won't ever buy a sports team or a… yacht, whatever that is. But you're right that I shouldn't be so cavalier about it."

She kissed him, admiring the progress that he continually made toward being a better person. She knew that she was a good influence, certainly, but was pleased that Draco seemed to come to all of these decisions and ideas on his own. He was a good man, and she was so proud to call him hers.

"I'm sorry I worried you," she murmured, breaking away from his lips. Then, remembering Ginny's warning of Draco's supposed insecurity, she added, "I'm so lucky you're mine, Draco. I don't tell you enough how thankful I am for you."

His eyes warmed, and he leaned in to kiss her on the nose. "Let's go home."

Draco and Harry had decided to keep Draco's New Year's Eve gathering small to ensure Draco and Hermione's safety. Draco had worked tirelessly to plan a lovely but intimate affair with their close friends. The house elves had been working to make sure that the menu was perfect and had actually let Hermione help them in doing some preparations the morning of the party, much to her delight.

Their guests were set to arrive at seven o'clock. Draco checked the carriage clock above the fire in the sitting room that connected to the master bedroom- five till seven. Hermione had squirreled herself away in the master bath at half five, and he hadn't seen her since. Adjusting the lapel pins Hermione had given him for Christmas, he took a last look at their bedroom door before heading out of their wing and down to the ballroom, hoping Hermione would make her appearance before the party started.

Draco moved around, inspecting the ballroom with an air of authority that was fitting for the lord of the manor. His shiny, black Oxfords clipped across the floor, his hands situated behind his back in an obvious display of superiority, and his hair had that perfectly disheveled quality to it that he knew made Hermione swoon. He had picked up a knife from the long banquet table and was inspecting it for water spots when he heard a throat clearing from the doorway and turned to find Hermione.

It took him a moment to catch his breath- she looked like the picture of seduction. Her slinky, emerald colored dress wrapped rather tightly around her chest with a perfectly appropriate sweetheart neckline that didn't display too much cleavage and very thin, delicate straps. Like a Grecian goddess, the silken material flowed out from her waist, and a slit on the right side ran up to the middle of her thigh, exposing a rather sizeable amount of skin and making her legs look impossibly long for someone so small. She wore strappy silver heels that he was sure she'd re-enforced with balance charms, and her hair was smoothed out in long, sexy waves that ran all the way down to her arse. She made her way over to where he was standing, smiling at him with her kohl-darkened eyes, and held something out to him.

"Would you put this on me?" she asked sweetly, and it took him a moment to register that she had handed him the emerald necklace he had given her for Christmas.

He slipped the necklace around her neck, fastening it as she held her silky locks out of his way. "You," he whispered to her in a husky voice, leaning down to place a kiss just under her ear, "look positively edible. Let's cancel the party and ring in the New Year in bed."

She laughed, a light, tinkling sound, and spun around to wrap her arms around his waist. "You look quite handsome as well. I don't know how I'll ever keep my hands to myself tonight."

They heard the Floo go off, and she retracted her arms. "Who said anything about keeping our hands to ourselves?" he asked, taking a hand and placing a kiss on the back of it before lacing it through his elbow and leading her to the Floo room. "I have every intention of hanging all over you tonight like a bowtruckle on trees."

She tutted at him but smiled. They entered the Floo room, finding Blaise and a large portion of the Weasley clan dusting themselves off, clad in formalwear.

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione gushed, "you look lovely!" She took her friend in her arms, squeezing her tightly before pulling back to admire her friend's champagne-colored gown. Ginny did a twirl, showing off her exposed back and the intricate french twist that held her flame-red hair.

"What about you?" Ginny enthused, indicating Hermione do a spin of her own. The brunette reluctantly agreed. "I'm amazed Draco can stand with how breathtaking you look!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and Draco came up behind them, murmuring his agreement. Hermione pressed kisses to the cheeks of Ron and Harry, who both complimented her dress. They still had issues remembering Hermione was a girl and lost themselves a bit when confronted with that reality. George dove in, sweeping Hermione into his arms and eyeing her in a comically lascivious way.

"Oi, Granger," he started, waggling his eyebrows at her, and Hermione tried her best to hold in a giggle. "What say you ditch the blond ferret and come home with me?"

She extricated herself from George's arms and looked over her shoulder to see Draco glowering at them. She chuckled. "I'm rather fond of my ferret, George, but if I ever decide to trade in for another weasel, I'll let you know."

George barked out a laugh, leaning in to speak a bit softer to Hermione. "He looks rather put out over there, trying not to rip me limb from limb. Shall I remind him that Angelina will be joining me here soon, or let him sweat it out a bit?"

Hermione shook her head at George's mischief. "You just stay away from him for now, unless you'd like to be hexed," she warned, and George gave her a roguish wink.

"He's going to kill someone tonight," she heard a deep voice murmur into her ear and grinned when she saw Blaise's warm smile. "You look quite lovely, and Draco doesn't share well."

"Thank you, Blaise," she told him. "You look very nice, too. Everyone does!" She smiled at the room, and Draco encouraged them all to make their way to the ballroom while he and Hermione waited for their other guests.

She felt the warmth of his hands on her hips through the thin material of her dress and chuckled when he grumpily pulled her back into his front. "Draco," she lightly admonished, "why are you behaving this way?"

He placed soft kisses on her exposed shoulders. "What way, love?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"George was only doing that to get you riled up," she told him. "Angelina will be here soon, and the two of them have grown quite close, recently. He sees me like a sister."

Draco scoffed. "Hardly. He thinks you're beautiful." He nuzzled his nose in her sweet-smelling neck, inhaling her gardenia and pear scent for a moment before continuing, "And you are, so I can't fault him… but still. You're mine. I don't like it when other blokes forget that."

"Draco, you're being silly. I don't want to fight tonight. I'm not a tree you need to mark like a poorly behaved Crup."

He growled. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like that. I just… Sometimes I'm reminded that it's not just me, and that's a little jarring. You could have any bloke you wanted to, and that scares me."

"And you could have any girl," she told him, spinning in his hold to wrap her arms around his neck and look up at him. "But we chose each other. I'll continue to choose you, Draco. Every day, for as long as you don't piss me off," she told him with a wink.

"You're too good for me, and I certainly don't deserve you, but you'd better believe I'll spend the rest of my life trying to," he told her resolutely. He admired the emerald necklace that rested on her sternum, sparkling as it caught the lights overhead. From this angle, he could see just the faintest glimpse of her emerald green bra- the same one she wore the night of the Halloween ball. Memories of that wonderful night flooded his brain, and he instinctively rolled his hips into Hermione's, surprising her with his hardness.

She let out an involuntary moan before coming to her senses. "Draco!" she scolded, pulling away from him a straightening her dress. "Not now! That's hardly appropriate."

He smirked. "I didn't do it on purpose, love. I can't help my body when you're close."

She walked away from him, closer to the Floo. "You'll help your body, or you won't be coming near me for the duration of the evening," she chastised playfully before adding, with a smirk of her own, "Not to worry, though, I'm sure George would like to dance with me."

The Floo lit up, and several more guests came through in rapid succession, cutting off Draco's retort. First was Pansy, draped in plum silk, and Daphne, sporting a lovely scarlet frock that highlighted her honey-colored hair and hazel eyes. Theo Nott entered, a bit caught off guard to see Hermione greeting guests with Draco, but they couldn't chat with him too long because Angelina came through next.

"I hope it's alright I brought Cho," Angelina asked as the girl in question looked around uncertainly. "She didn't have plans tonight and I just couldn't leave her home alone."

Hermione nodded, and Draco said to her, "Of course, the more the merrier."

Luna came through the fireplace next in a wild, multi-colored fabric that would have looked ghastly on any other witch, followed by Neville and a bewildered Hannah Abbott, who clearly was shocked to find herself in the company of Slytherins at Malfoy Manor. Bill and Fleur entered next, presenting Draco with a bottle of wine that he took appreciatively, and extended Charlie's regrets, as a litter of baby Hebridean Blacks was born that morning, and he couldn't tear himself away from them.

Once they had ensured that all of their guests were accounted for, Draco escorted Hermione back into the ballroom. The doors opened, and Hermione surveyed the scene. A long, ornate table had been set up for their meal and fashioned with more plates and cutlery than Hermione had ever seen on a table. Their guests were milling about, talking amongst themselves, and the goblin band Draco had hired to perform for the evening was playing a gentle, classical tune in the background. Standing there in the doorway, with the gorgeous ballroom in front of her and her handsome boyfriend's commanding presence at her side, Hermione couldn't help but feel like the lady of the manor.

Dinner was wonderful. The first course, a French tian made with crab and prawns, was sumptuous. The elves had made a special crumbed camembert with cranberry relish for Luna, whose aversion to eating any creatures meant that she maintained a strict vegetarian diet. They enjoyed a soup course of roasted garlic and rosemary veloute. Hermione tried to contain her giggle at the puzzlement so apparent on Ron's face when they were served a blackberry sorbet for a refresher course, clearly not understanding why they were having dessert before their main course. She watched as Blaise leaned over to explain it to him, and he went quite red, but quickly ate the dollop of fruity sorbet with a pleased smile. The main course for everyone, sans Luna (who enjoyed a lovely stuffed squash), was a rich tournedos beef fillet in a dijon mustard cream sauce with a leek and smoked cheese quenelle and wild mushrooms.

Talk around the table was almost non-existent as they all enjoyed the food and wine, the Slytherins complimenting Draco's choice in the menu and the Gryffindors passing praise along to his elves. Draco's friends seemed quite confused that Hermione's were so appreciative toward the subservient creatures, but Hermione couldn't have been prouder and made a mental note that perhaps S.P.E.W. had actually made an impact. When dessert was served, a mango yuzu brulee, Draco stood up, holding his wine glass aloft to give a toast.

"I just want to thank everyone at this table for supporting me. Not many people would take pity on a former Death Eater, especially with the way I treated some of you." He glanced around the table at the Weasleys, Potter, and Lovegood, before resting his gaze on his beautiful girlfriend. "Malfoys aren't saps, so I'm going to cut this short… but just know I appreciate you all. Here's to another year of growth, prosperity, and heightened understanding- cheers!"

There was a chorus of 'cheers,' and then the group dug into their dessert. Hermione looked down the table to see Harry and Daphne talking, both with shy smiles on their faces. How interesting, she thought as she met Ginny's eyes across the table. The redhead smirked at her, flicking her gaze in Harry's direction and then wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Hermione. Hermione stifled a laugh, trying not to call attention to Harry's attempts at flirting.

Draco called for Slinky, who materialized in an instant, and with a snap of his tiny fingers, the table and dishes disappeared. Draco took Hermione's hand in his own, leading her to the theater. They had arranged for their guests to enjoy a film as so many of them had little to no experience with them. Hermione prepared the film- Four Weddings and a Funeral- while Draco got everyone seated and settled. Pansy was complaining a bit, though Hermione suspected that was just because she was so obviously uncomfortable with anything unfamiliar, and Theo was scowling, but everyone else seemed quite excited. To her amusement, Hermione noticed that Ginny had maneuvered Daphne and Harry onto a sofa together, though it didn't appear as though it had taken much convincing for them to be thrown together.

"This is one of my favorite films," Hermione explained, and Harry groaned. She chuckled. "It's a bit more geared toward the ladies, but I think everyone will be able to appreciate it. It's funny." Turning to Harry she explained, "It was this or Trainspotting, based on what we had here that Draco hasn't seen yet. I didn't want them exposed to that side of the muggle world from the get-go."

Harry nodded and settled back in his seat, inadvertently scooching closer to Daphne. Hermione took her seat at Draco's side, looking around at her friends as the opening credits began to play. Everyone seemed to be coupled off except Pansy, who seemed too engrossed in the moving picture to care. She briefly noted that Theo was attempting to cuddle up to Cho, who was clearly uninterested in his attention, and that Daphne had boldly taken Harry's arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. Harry looked flabbergasted but not displeased, and Hermione felt unendingly happy for her selfless friend who always prioritized his friends over himself.

As the ending credits began rolling, Hermione got up to turn up the lights, taking in the entranced looks on everyone's faces. She was pleased that Draco's friends seemed so taken with films, just as hers had been, and hoped that they would join her for more cinematic girls nights after they all left Hogwarts. She envisioned girls nights, cuddled up under blankets with heaping bowls of popcorn, sitting with Ginny, Pansy, Luna, and Daphne... maybe Angelina, Hannah, or Cho would join them, too. Hermione smiled at the thought-- she'd never really had a lot of girlfriends before, but welcoming the Slytherins into her life was so much easier than she had thought it would be.

Draco led the group back in the direction of the ballroom, chatting with Blaise and Theo, while Hermione hung back to converse with Harry. Daphne had been intercepted by Ginny, and Harry was looking nervously on as the rest of their group followed Draco out into the hall.

"You don't have to worry," Hermione confided, looping her arm through Harry's and ushering him along with the rest of the group, admittedly further behind. "Ginny is playing matchmaker- whatever she tells Daphne will only benefit you."

Harry gave her an incredulous look. "You don't think I should be concerned that my ex-girlfriend is chasing after a rather fetching, single witch who I have spent the entire evening talking to?"

Hermione threw her head back in laughter. "You and Ginny are hardly normal exes. You pal around with her new boyfriend all the time. I think she just wants you to be happy." She grabbed his arm, meeting his eyes with her own. "We all do."

Harry gave her a bashful smile. "She's so pretty," he told Hermione confidentially as they continued to follow in the direction of the group.

"She is," Hermione agreed with a grin. "And she's very nice. She's hardly what I would have expected of a Slytherin."

"I don't want to be distracted from your case, though, Hermione," he explained, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his shirt. "I'll consider pursuing Daphne when it's all over."

"There's always going to be another important case, Harry," Hermione grumbled. "Don't use me as an excuse to not be happy. Ask Daphne out."

They entered the ballroom before Harry could respond. Draco, Neville, and Theo were standing around, clearly debating something. Ron was standing beside Luna, smiling at her indulgently while the blonde prattled on about something to an incredulous-looking Pansy. Hannah, Cho, Angelina, and Daphne were gabbing, a wine glass in each of their hands. Ginny and Blaise twirled gracefully around the dancefloor, joined by a significantly more subdued Bill and Fleur, who seemed to be lost in their own world, and a rambunctious George, who was attempting to demonstrate, through his flailing dance moves how the melodious, classical tune could be considered rave music.

Hermione met Draco's eyes, and he smiled at her, holding out an arm and beckoning her to his side. Before she left to join Draco, she leaned into Harry and whispered, "Go ask Daphne to dance." She smiled proudly when she saw Harry do just that.

The boys were discussing magical plants, a topic that held no interest for Hermione. Neville was going on about something called Niffler's Fancy, describing the benefits of cultivating it for horticulture's sake. Draco, it seemed, felt the plant was only valuable in relation to its potion-making potential whereas Theo saw it as a rare commodity that was worth only the galleons it could fetch. Their debate went on quite a while, and Hermione was thrilled when Pansy stormed away from Luna, joining their little group and shifting the conversation away from plant life altogether. Soon, the group of other ladies meandered over to join them as Ron and Luna disappeared into the garden.

"So, Hannah," Hermione started, "how is it going at the Leaky Cauldron?"

Hannah's face lit up in excitement. "I love it! Tom has been teaching me everything he knows. He seems to think I could run it someday."

"That's great!" Ginny added, smiling at the girl holding hands with Neville. She turned to Cho, an evil gleam in her eyes that made Hermione very nervous. Even though Ginny and Harry weren't still together, Ginny hadn't ever really gotten along with Cho. "What about you, Chang? I know you live with Angelina, but what else? Last I heard you were playing professional Quidditch."

Cho smiled. "Yes, I play for the Appleby Arrows. I'm Chasing now, but I'm the reserve Seeker."

Pansy perked up a bit. "I forgot you played Quidditch," she told the Ravenclaw, sizing her up. After a moment she continued, "Fancy taking a stroll through the gardens with me, Chang?"

Cho seemed to pause a moment, studying Pansy intently before a bashful grin covered her lips and she nodded daintily. Hermione studied Ginny's smirk, and Pansy's words from their slumber party echoed in her head. I like Quidditch players, she had told them, and suddenly Ginny's behavior became significantly more understandable.

She caught Draco studying her with an amused expression. "Excuse me, everyone, but I'd like to dance with my lovely date," Draco explained to the group, taking Hermione's hand and leading her to the dance floor. When he had her pulled against him, a bit closer than was proper for an elegant waltz, he leaned down to ask, "What are you and Red doing?"

Hermione smiled up at him. "Ginny's been playing matchmaker. Hadn't you noticed Harry and Daphne?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I had. Potter's about as subtle as Hagrid in a tea shop." He spun her around in an impressive series of turns before pulling her back into him. "But they've been over here dancing, so that can't possibly be what you two were just discussing with your eyes."

Hermione chuckled. "Were you staring at me?"

"So what if I was?" he told her with a smug grin. "You're rather lovely. I'll stare if I want to." He leaned down to kiss her quickly on the nose. "Now then, what did I just miss?"

"Pansy likes Quidditch players. Surely you knew that." she told him with a shrug.

He brought a hand off of her waist to lightly smack himself in the forehead. "Of course. How could I forget? She'll be seducing Chang in the gardens, then." He sighed dramatically, returning his hand to her waist. "I do hope she stays away from the birds-of-paradise… they're Mother's favorites. She'll have my head if Pansy shags all over them."

Hermione studied his handsome face for any signs of trepidation, and finding none. Clearly he wasn't nearly as concerned about his mother's release as she had recently realized she was. "Should we talk about your mother, Draco?" Hermione asked, seriously.

His nose scrunched in confusion. "Why would we do that?"

"She'll be getting out of Azkaban very soon. I'm sure she'll want to see you…" She looked up at him, and he could see the insecurity in her eyes. "What will she think of me?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure," he told her with a sigh. "If she makes me choose between you two, I'll pick you. I'd like to think she wouldn't make me choose because I love her more than I can say… but you'll always be my choice."

She reached up to stroke his cheek. She couldn't let him write his mother off for her. It would tear him to pieces. She studied the steadfast determination in his mercurial eyes. "Let's talk about this again after she's out, all right?" She didn't want to ruin the holiday.

He nodded. "Yes, very well." He pulled her close again, stroking a thumb on her hip and watching his friends. Blaise was holding Ginny close, and the two were whispering to each other and laughing intimately. Bill and Fleur were now sitting in the corner, but George and Angelina had joined them on the dance floor, ignoring the music completely and doing a ridiculous tango. Longbottom and Abbott were also dancing, much more reserved than any of the other couples. Ron and Luna had just returned inside, looking freshly snogged, and were chatting in a corner. Theo was talking to Potter, who was standing quite close to Daphne. Theo and Daphne had dated very briefly in fifth year, but Theo was known for his jealous streak, and Draco hoped he wasn't giving Potter trouble. Potter had been good to him, and the man took care of Hermione- he deserved a bit of happiness. Draco turned his attention back to her. "We'll be heading back to Hogwarts in two days," he said, gauging her emotions at their break ending.

"I know," she told him with a small smile. "I'm excited to go back because it's always felt like home… but I'd be lying if I said I'm not a little sad."

"Sad?" he asked, interest piqued. Does this mean she likes it here?

"We've had so much fun, just the two of us. When we go back to school we won't have this privacy anymore." She blushed. "I'll miss the Manor and the elves."

"Of course you'll miss the elves," he chuckled, momentarily distracted as it seemed that Harry and Theo's conversation was turning into a row- Theo hadn't ever been skilled with the subtlety so characteristic of their house. "You're welcome back here whenever you want."

Draco looked over to the corner to see Harry looking irate as Theo stormed out of the ballroom. Concern was etched into Daphne's features as she was obviously warring with herself over whether she should stay or chase after Theo. Before Daphne could make up her mind, Blaise interjected.

"Oi, Draco!" they heard him call, still wrapped around Ginny and clearly trying not to let Theo ruin the party. "Let's get pissed, mate- it's New Year's Eve!" Ron, George, and Ginny all loudly agreed.

Draco let out a tense laugh, attempting to come off as unaffected. "All right, you lot! Let's go to the library, then. It's where I hide the best booze!"

Bill and Fleur bid them farewell, heading out to spend the rest of the holiday together and leaving the teenagers to have their fun. The rest of the group trooped up the stairs, joined in the hall by a disheveled Pansy and Cho, and made their way to the library, where Draco doled out glasses of Lucius' best Firewhisky like it was free. Several drinking games and many bottles of Firewhisky later, they were all relatively drunk, when Luna pointed out that they only had three minutes to midnight. Racing down the hall and back to the ballroom, they gathered the champagne flutes that the house elves had left out.

"To a year with no war!" Neville exclaimed as they all checked their watches, counting down the minutes.

"To a year with my friends," Luna added as they all made their way out into the garden.

"To a year of new beginnings," Pansy chimed in, wrapping an arm around Cho's waist.

"To a year of peace and quiet," Harry grumbled, and everyone laughed.

"To a year with my love," Draco whispered for only Hermione to hear, and she blushed, raising her own glass.

"To 1999!" she cheered, and a moment later, the clock struck midnight.

Overhead, a loud display of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs went off as everyone leaned in for their first kiss of 1999. Draco pulled Hermione close, enveloping her small body with his and kissing her with all he had. She was the best part of his 1998, and he hoped to keep her around for many years to come.

Chapter Text

Ch. 26- On Tea Time Revelations

Hermione sat back on her heels, humming to herself as she studied her bedroom wall. She had added a picture of her and Draco beside the photos of Ron, Harry, and Ginny, but she wasn't convinced it was sitting level. She gazed at the photo, remembering when Blaise had taken it. They were sitting in front of the fire in the drawing room at Malfoy Manor, Hermione on Draco's lap, his arms looped around her waist. She watched as picture-Draco leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and picture-Hermione threw her head back in laughter. Her hair was pulled up messily, she didn't have on any makeup, and she was wearing a less-than-flattering jumper of Draco's, but the happiness on both of their faces was glaringly evident as they looked at each other adoringly. It was her new favorite picture.

"All unpacked, love?" she heard Draco call from somewhere in the distance. She heard his footsteps travelling through their adjoining bathroom to her bedroom before he entered her room.

"Do you think that picture looks crooked?" she asked him without turning around, and she felt him come up behind her to study the frame.

"Truthfully, yes. Can we fix it later, Granger? I'm starved," he whined, slipping his arms around her waist.

"It'll only take a moment," she told him, wiggling out of his grasp to undo her sticking charm. She heard him sigh, even as he came up behind her, holding the frame straight for her while she re-applied the charm. Pleased with the final result, she let him escort her out of their common room and down to dinner.

"I think Pansy is coming over tonight, if that's okay," he mentioned as they made their way to the Great Hall.

She nodded. "Just so long as you two aren't too loud. I'd like to go to bed early so I'm ready for classes tomorrow."

"She won't stay long, love," he assured her. "I just want to catch up. I was hardly able to speak with her at the party."

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Hermione joined Neville and Dean while Draco headed to the still-empty Slytherin table. Throughout the course of their meal, his friends slowly joined them, and by the time Hermione got up to leave, Draco was holding full court amongst the Slytherins. She smiled as she watched Blaise clap Draco on the back while Daphne covered her mouth to hide her uncontrollable laughter. He looked quite happy among his friends again, and so she decided she would give him some time with them and headed back to their common room alone.

She pushed open the doors of the Great Hall and meandered through the crowded halls toward her rooms. She reprimanded two fourth-year Ravenclaws for tossing a fanged frisbee back and forth across the heads of other students, but otherwise the student body appeared quite subdued on their first night back together. It seemed that everyone must be heading to dinner, because the closer she got to the Founder's Portraits, the more the crowd of students thinned until she was all alone.

Walking down the corridor that led to the third floor entrance of her beloved library and the portraits of the four founders, Hermione found herself lost in thought. She passed the Charms classroom and remembered the fateful day in their first year when Ron had made her cry after she'd demonstrated a perfect Levitation charm. She remembered hiding away in that same classroom in fourth year, practicing defensive magic with Harry and Ron before the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament until Professor McGonagall had loaned them her classroom.

Hermione chuckled, remembering all of the times that she had chatted with Harry and Ron in Charms hidden behind a Muffliato. She felt a strong surge of sudden sadness, realizing that she would never share moments like that with her boys again. Their lives were being pulled in different directions, and they likely wouldn't see each other as frequently. Someday they would all have spouses and children, and with her working in a different field, they were bound to grow apart at least a little. Still, she mused, they would always have a special bond unlike anyone else. After all, there are some things you can't share without ending up irrevocably connected, like taking down the darkest wizard of all time or knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll.

She continued down the corridor, passing the statue of the One-Eyed Witch, lost in melancholy contemplation. When she got to the Trophy Room, however, the hair stood up on the back of her neck - she knew someone was there. After subtly surveying the area and gripping her wand a bit firmer, she quickly spun around. The corridor was empty, but she wasn't convinced of her safety. Years of wartime practice had honed Hermione's survival skills, and she was prepared to fight.

"Homenum Revelio!" she whispered, studying the area around her, backing further down the hall. Her destination was just around the corner, and she knew if she could make it the twenty or so meters down the corridor, she would be in front of the library and her common room, the two places in the castle that she felt safest. There was no answer to her spell, and so Hermione sprinted away to the picture of Helga Hufflepuff and gave her the password to enter the Head's dorm.

Racing across the room to her bedroom, she pulled out a pen and some parchment, set on sending a letter off to Harry and Ron. Only when she began her opening did she realize she didn't know what to say.

Dear Harry and Ron, Hope all is well. Tonight I was rather convinced I was being followed, but no one was there and nothing happened. Just thought you ought to know!

"No," she said aloud to herself, "you're being a silly cow. They'll think you've gone mad."

Settling back in her chair, she put down her pen and picked up the book on the corner of her desk. She was re-reading The Count of Monte Cristo and figured she might finish the next chapter before turning in for the night. Moving to her bed, she opened her book to her marked page and tried to focus on the pages in front of her. Unfortunately, she found that the words were spinning and she couldn't focus on anything except the way her heart hadn't stopped racing since her almost-altercation in the hall.

"Hermione?" she heard Draco's voice calling from their common room.

"Up here!" she shouted, re-marking her book and setting it on her bedside table. She heard Draco's long strides and the loud bang as he burst through her door.

"Merlin, Hermione! Don't scare me like that!" he scolded, coming to sit beside her on the bed. "You left dinner without me, and I had no idea where you might have gone."

Unable to help herself, Hermione burst into tears, leaving a flummoxed Draco babbling out an apology and pulling her into his arms. "It's not your fault," she blubbered, soaking his pristine Oxford with her tears. "You're right. I should have waited for you… but I didn't and…"

"And what?' he asked, pulling her away from him by her upper arms and forcing her to meet his eyes. "And what, Hermione? Did something happen?"

She inhaled deeply. "No," she told him, shaking her head. "Nothing happened."

He gave her a wary look, his tone softening. "Something happened. Why are you crying, love?"

She wiped the tears from her eyes, standing up from the bed. "I'm just feeling a bit emotional, I suppose. Nothing happened- I'm just being silly. I think I'll go have a bath."

He watched as she pulled a pair of pyjamas from a drawer and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She's been so stressed lately, he thought, making a mental note to take over her prefect duties for the week so that she could get a bit more sleep.

"Be quiet, Pans," Draco admonished, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Hermione's closed door. "Granger had a rough day and she's turning in early. She might already be in bed."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Merlin's hat, Draco," she told him, "Stop treating her like some fragile, little doll. Granger's tough. If I was being too loud, she'd come out here and hex me."

"She's right, you know," Draco heard and turned to see Hermione exiting her bedroom. He smiled, watching her as she crossed to their little kitchen in her silky night clothes, reaching for the kettle to heat water for tea. Distantly, he heard Pansy scoff.

"You're gross," his friend told him, watching the happiness on his face with total disgust. "She's making tea, not curing Spattergroit. Stop watching her like that."

He smirked over at his friend. "You sound a little bitter, Pansy. Things not going well with Chang?"

She heard Hermione chuckle from the kitchen and rolled her eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but things are just fine with Chang. I received a letter from her this morning before I left to come back." Draco wasn't fooled by her nonchalant look as she inspected her nails, as she had a wicked gleam in her eyes before she continued, "Fantastic shag, really. You should be proud of your friend, Granger. She does this thing with her tongue where she--"

"--all right, Pansy, you've made your point," Draco cut her off, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Hermione's tea kettle whistled, and he heard Pansy snicker. "It was a lovely party, Draco. I think everyone had a good time."

"Except Theo," Draco grumbled, still annoyed with his mousy-haired friend, who caused a scene with Potter on what had otherwise been a nice night.

Pansy placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Cut him some slack, Draco. He feels left out. You and Blaise have taken to running around with…" Pansy stopped herself, glancing quickly over at Hermione, who was retrieving the tin of Earl Grey from the cupboard and appeared not to be listening. "Gryffindors."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Wanker. I'll see if he wants to meet Blaise and I for a drink soon."

Hermione came over and handed Draco a cup of Earl Grey, pecking him quickly on the cheek. "Pansy? Tea?" she asked, dodging Draco's arm as he attempted to pull her into his lap.

The dark-haired Slytherin stood from her spot on the couch. "No, thank you, Granger," she replied, collecting her bag. "I've been here too long as it is. I'll let you two turn in for the night like the elderly couple you are." She smirked at them, and Hermione laughed, heading back to the kitchen to fix her own cup.

Draco escorted Pansy to the portrait hole door and then made his way back to the couch, where Hermione was waiting with her own tea in hand. Draco noted the worried strain around her eyes, even as she smiled warmly over at him.

"What has you so worried, love?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea and settling back further into the cushions as Hermione laid her feet in his lap.

"What do you mean?"

"Granger, I know you. Perhaps not as well as Potter, but a fair bit better than most people. You're worried about something. You've been worried all day. What's going on?" He set his cup on the side table and rubbed a hand comfortingly on Hermione's shin.

She sighed. "It's a lot of things, Draco."

He smirked over at her. "You're being very evasive, Granger." He squeezed her leg lightly. "What kind of things?"

"Different things. My case has been on my mind a lot. We haven't heard anything in a while, and that makes me nervous. I'm also worried about things that you'll think are silly…" She trailed off, but at his questioning look, she continued, "This is our last term here. It's bittersweet, isn't it? We grew up here. I'm so sad to be leaving. I feel like there's so much I haven't accomplished yet. And we'll have N.E.W.T.s, which is quite stressful. Also," she told him, looking a bit sheepish, but continuing nonetheless, "your mother is released this week, and I've been worried about what that means for us."

Draco took a deep breath. "Let's unpack this, okay? Hesitant as I am to admit this, I trust Potter and Weasley. They wouldn't let anything happen to you. They'll find the guy who has been doing all of this, and you'll be fine. And I'll deny it if you ever tell them I said that." He smiled at her, and scooted closer to her on the sofa, grabbing her free hand as she used the other to set her tea down on the table. "As for the end of our school careers… I can't really do anything about that, sweetheart. I admit it makes me sad as well. But also so excited. I can't wait to start our real lives. I can't wait to see all the brilliant things that you accomplish." He leaned over, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. "We just have to make the most of the time we have left here, all right?" He smiled down at her as she nodded. "And with regards to Mother… Granger, that changes nothing. I've already told you, you're my choice. I don't think Mother would let it come to that, but if she does…" He sighed. "You're mine now. I'm not going to do anything stupid to jeopardize that."

"Draco," Hermione drawled, holding his cheek in her hand, "I can't let you abandon your mother. Don't be silly."

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that then," he told her, turning his face into her hand to kiss her palm. "Now then, I think we should Vanish this tea and go to bed."

She watched as he pointed his wand at first his teacup, then hers before taking them to the kitchen sink. She couldn't help but feel that he wasn't being completely honest with her. Some part of him must be concerned with how she'll react to me. She sighed, watching him rinse their mugs in the sink as she had taught him to do. I'll make things work with Narcissa, no matter what. I can't let Draco abandon his family. She took a deep breath. I, of all people, recognize how important it is to keep your parents close. He returned to her side with a gentle smile, helping her up from the sofa and, his hand on the small of her back, escorting her to bed.

Draco waited impatiently in a waiting room near the entrance of Azkaban for his mother to be free to go, thinking about Hermione. They hadn't spoken about his mother's release since their conversation at the start of the week, but she had given him a slow, sweet kiss before he had left this morning. Something about the kiss had his nerves on edge- he had been able to feel her anxiety.

He studied the oppressive walls around him. They were made of cold stone and an odd brown grime seemed to be seeping from the ceiling- the whole room gave off a very uninviting air, and Draco thanked Merlin he wouldn't have to come back here now that his mother was being released. He looked down at the concrete beneath his expensive, dragonhide shoes and shuddered. His poor mother had only been here six months, but it was six months too many, as far as Draco was concerned.

He heard a click and looked up to see a burly guard escorting his mother into the room. She was frail, and Draco was momentarily concerned that the grip of the portly guard would break her arm in half. Her blonde hair was lank and dull, hanging limply in her eyes, but the smile on her face when she caught sight of her son was dazzling. Draco stood up, taking long strides to meet his mother and the guard on the other side of the small, bleak room.

"Mother!" he exclaimed, opening his arms, and the guard released Narcissa so that she could embrace her son.

"My handsome boy!" Without the heels that Draco was so accustomed to her wearing, she only came to his chin, but he bent down so she could press a kiss to his cheek.

"I've missed you," he told her, suddenly becoming very aware that they still had an audience in the Azkaban guard. "Let's get you to Aunt 'Dromeda's, all right? We can catch up there."

His mother turned and thanked the guard, and Draco chuckled at her inability to ever neglect her Pureblood breeding before she took her son's arm and let him lead her out of Azkaban and to the apparition point.

When they landed in Andromeda's front garden, Narcissa took a moment to compose herself, brushing out her tattered Azkaban robes with her hands,while Draco knocked on Andromeda's front door. Narcissa's sister threw the door open, excitedly welcoming her nephew into her home and embracing her sister in a bone-crushing hug.

"Cissy!" she cried, pulling her younger sister tighter into her embrace, and reflecting on the last time they'd been so close without a table between them and an Azkaban guard playing chaperone. They were teenagers then, and Andromeda had just informed Narcissa that she was leaving to marry Ted, destroying the marriage contract that was being set up between her and the Nott heir. Andromeda remembered her sixteen year old sister, with tears in her eyes, begging her not to leave. Looking down at her sister now, shaking slightly from cold but smiling up at her happily, she couldn't help but think about all the wasted time. "I'm so happy you're here. It's been two weeks since your last letter- I was worried you'd changed your mind. Thank you for coming to stay with me!"

"Thank you for having me, dear," Narcissa replied, squeezing her sister once more before releasing her with a smirk. "Let's go inside. I think Draco's embarrassed by our family reunion in the streets." The two women entered the home, clucking about this and that only to find Draco lying on the floor in the sitting room, making zooming noises and holding a fair-haired Teddy aloft.

"Draco Abraxas!" Narcissa bellowed, horrified to find her son rolling around on the ground like a salamander. "What in Salazar's name do you think you're doing?"

Draco smiled up at her from his spot on the floor before setting Teddy down and getting to his feet. Teddy waved his chubby little hands up at Draco, and Draco lifted him up, tucking him on his hip as if it was something he did every day. "Playing with Ted here. He prefers it when we're the same height, you see," he joked. Smiling down at his mother, he said, "I've missed you, Mother."

She tutted, grabbing his face between her palms. "Have you grown? You seem taller, my handsome dragon," she told him, pushing the hair out of his eyes.

They heard Andromeda snort. "Perhaps it's that he's able to stand a bit taller without the weight of the world on his shoulders."

Narcissa's eyes grew sad, and she briefly hesitated in following Draco as he led her to the sofa. "Come, Mother, you must be tired. Sit down and I'll have an elf fetch some tea."

Draco called Bobbin, Andromeda's house elf, and asked if he would arrange tea for the small group. Then he settled back in his seat, making faces at Teddy, decorum be damned. His mother didn't quite seem to understand or enjoy it, but she hadn't commented again, for which he was grateful. Bobbin popped back shortly after with a tea tray, and Andromeda set about preparing everyone's tea to their preferences. Draco remained mostly quiet, allowing Narcissa and Andromeda to chat about all that they had missed out on over their decades-long separation. He could see how grateful his mother was for this second chance with her sister, even behind her mask of Pureblood indifference.

"Draco, I feel like I've been remiss, my love," his mother said, turning back to him. "How are you? How is school?"

"I'm fine, Mother. School is fine. The rest of the student body has… adjusted to me. They don't love me, or anything, but they don't flinch when I walk by anymore. I play Quidditch with the other eighth years, and I go about my Head duties. My marks are high- almost the highest, though I'm still behind Granger, as usual." He smiled to himself at the mention of her name, and his mother did not miss the expression.

"I see," she drawled. "That's all very good to hear, love. Well done." Then, steadying herself, she asked, "How is your Miss Granger, then?"

He didn't even attempt to hide his smile from her. "Brilliant," he gushed, meeting Andromeda's eyes and noting her smile. "She's brilliant, Mother. Smart and beautiful and so kind. I didn't know it was possible for someone to be so good, you know?"

His mother gave him a forced smile and said in a clipped tone, "Well now, she sounds rather perfect."

He shook his head. "She's bloody stubborn. And so bossy. Pushy, too. She's optimistic to the point of recklessness, at times." He sighed, thinking fondly of the little brunette who had captured his heart. She was likely holed up in the common room, working on the Alchemy essay that wasn't due for three weeks. "But none of that matters. When she smiles at me, I feel whole. When I'm with her, I can't imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else." He took his mother's hand, holding her eye contact for a moment before saying quite solemnly, "I love her, Mother. I don't think I'll ever be capable of loving another witch as much as I love Hermione. I know this is difficult for you… but please try to understand."

She studied him for a long while. He was no longer the little boy she had spoiled with treats and toys, nor was he the frightened young man she remembered from the war, who had floated through the Manor's many halls like a ghost. The planes of his face were filled out and mature, he had a nick on his neck from a shaving mishap, and there was a hardness behind his eyes that she recognized from his father. He was tall and lean and so very handsome, his jaw set in determination and his eyebrows drawn in concern. Her little boy had grown up, and she'd somehow missed it. She wasn't sure if she could handle missing anything else.

"You're right, Draco. I don't understand this at all." She told him, and her heart sank as she watched his face fall. "I do know how Malfoy men love, however. If you love Miss Granger even half as much as your father loves me, I know that there isn't any point in trying to change your mind." She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "The world is changing, and I must try and change with it."

"And you won't be alone," she heard her sister add merrily as Draco engulfed her in a hug.

"Thank you, Mum," he whispered in her ear, bringing tears to her eyes. He hadn't called her 'Mum' since before the war.

They embraced for what felt like days, her stroking Draco's silky hair and him breathing in her menthol smell that he remembered so comfortingly from his childhood. "Now then," Narcissa finally spoke, pulling away from her son and holding his face between her hands. "I suppose I should re-meet this young lady, yes?"

"Where's Draco?" Ginny asked, plopping down on Hermione's bed beside her friend and unpacking her bag of potions, lotions, and creams.

Hermione shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though her redheaded friend could see that she was clearly troubled. "I'm not sure. He's been avoiding me since he met with his mother on Saturday. I don't see him except in classes. He comes to bed after I'm asleep and wakes up before me." She sighed, pulling her long curls into a tight plait. In an insecure tone, she added, "It's almost been a week, Gin. I think he's going to break up with me."

Ginny snorted, rubbing a brown goop all over her face that smelled like oatmeal cookies and promised to make her skin as soft as a baby Demiguise. "You're being ridiculous."

"I'm really not!" Hermione argued, taking some of the goo for herself and rubbing it into her cheeks.

Hermione thought back on her week. She'd gone to sleep alone for the last six days, but at some point in the night she'd felt him slip in beside her, pulling her limp body into his embrace, and by the time she was awake, he was already gone again. He'd been perfectly friendly to her in classes, during their Head duties, and while walking her to classes, but the second they were alone, he suddenly had other places to be. She hadn't any idea why he was so hesitant to be alone with her. She was discouraged, to say the least.

"Hermione," Ginny started in what Hermione could tell was going to be an impressive lecture. "You'd have to be an idiot to think the Ferret would do anything to let you go. He'd give you the world if only you asked." At Hermione's skeptical and insecure expression she added, "You know, I think he'd even shave his head if he thought it might make you happy." Hermione cracked a small smile, which bolstered Ginny's efforts. "He's mad for you."

"How'd you get so wise, hmm?" Hermione asked, pulling a little bottle of nail polish from Ginny's bag. The label on the top read "Billywig Blue," and Hermione thought it would look lovely in contrast with Ginny's fiery hair.

Allowing Hermione to take her freckled hand in hers, Ginny answered, "I spent all that time with you growing up. Some of your smarts were bound to rub off, weren't they?" She smirked at Hermione, who was daintily making sure the little polish brush didn't have too much paint on it.

"Let's talk about something else. Anything else," Hermione requested, swiping Ginny's thumb in sapphire blue with expert precision. Hermione shifted a bit and two bottles of polish rolled across the bed, hitting her foot where it was tucked underneath her.

"Angelina told me that she had a breakthrough with George. I reckon they'll be a real couple any day now!" Ginny exclaimed, and Hermione let out an excited squeal.

"Good for them! I hope they're happy. No one deserves to be happy more than George," Hermione murmured, dipping the little brush back in the bottle for more polish.

"I don't know, Hermione. I think the rest of us want to see you happy. Between Ron and your parents and all this homicidal maniac nonsense… you deserve a bit of happy yourself." Ginny watched as a flicker of something akin to fear flashed across Hermione's face, then was gone in an instant.

Hermione sighed. "Draco makes me happy."

Ginny chuckled. "Even when he's being all ferrety and avoiding you for no discernable reason?"

Hermione popped the brush back into the bottle, looking up at her friend. "Admittedly, I'm a bit less happy with him at the moment… but on the whole, yes. Even at his most ferrety he makes me happy."

Ginny studied her closest female friend, who had gone back to painting the nails of her other hand. She's a damned fool, Ginny thought with a smile to herself, blowing on her wet nails. When she realizes that she loves him too, nothing is going to stop them.

Meanwhile, out on the Quidditch pitch, Blaise was practically screaming at Draco.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, mate?" he asked, hurling the Quaffle at Draco with more force than was necessary.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco bellowed back, barely catching the Quaffle in his numb hands. They'd been playing for several hours now and the bitter January cold was relentless. Normally he could count on Hermione to have a cup of tea waiting for him when he came inside, but given the circumstances, he knew not to expect it.

"You're such an arse. What is with your self-sabotaging tendencies? You get Granger, the girl you've been after for Merlin only knows how long. For some reason, unbeknownst to those of us capable of rational thought, she decides to put up with your melodrama and possessiveness and vanity. Then, after she's done absolutely nothing wrong, you avoid her for a week after having a meeting with your mother that she was particularly worried about to begin with. What the hell, Malfoy!" Blaise raged indignantly.

"I don't know what to tell her! I know she isn't particularly crazy about my mother, and now I'm supposed to arrange tea time between the two of them? We'll just sit and pretend like my mother didn't watch her sister torture Hermione, and become one big, happy family? How do I even begin to broach that subject?" He ran his frozen hands through his wind ruffled hair in frustration, letting out a grunt of annoyance as he hurled the Quaffle back at his friend.

Draco thought back on their miserable week. It was true, he was avoiding her, and he'd hated every second of it. He just couldn't help himself. The second they were alone, all he could think about was discussing his mother, and he hadn't quite figured out how to bring it up without feeling guilty. It was easier to avoid alone time all together, so she couldn't bring it up and catch him off guard.

He heard Blaise's snort, bringing him out of his thoughts. "I don't know- how about just bringing up the topic like an adult as opposed to hiding from her? Granger is unrelentingly forgiving. You're not giving her enough credit."

"That's just the problem. She does all of these things for me that I know she can't be terribly at ease with. I know if I ask her to go meet my mother, she will without question, even though it will make her unendingly uncomfortable. How can I do that to her?" He sighed, burying his face in his cold hands.

"Draco, mate," Blaise started, his tone softening as he flew closer to his fair-haired friend. "Have you any idea what she must be thinking right now? You've been basically been avoiding her completely for six days. You promised her that your mother wouldn't change things between you two, and now..."

Draco removed his hands from his face, his eyes widening in horror. "Merlin's beard! She probably thinks I intend to break up with her."

"Right-o, mate," Blaise confirmed sarcastically as Draco flew frantically to the ground. Blaise followed him as he tore through the castle and up to his common room, where he furiously barked the password at Helga's portrait and stormed through the open portrait hole.

"Hermione?" he called, whipping through the room as he searched their small space for her. He found her in the bathroom with Ginny, both drying their faces with towels. She looked up in concern when she heard him barrel through the bathroom door, and before she knew it, he had crushed her to him in a hug. She wrapped her arms around his body, inhaling the cold, snowy smell of his Quidditch kit.

"Merlin, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I'm a right tosser and a bloody fool. We need to talk," he rushed out, all in one breath, speaking into the loosely plaited hair on top of her head. He opened his mouth to begin speaking again, but she pulled back, cutting him off with a raised eyebrow.

She took his cold cheeks in her warm palms, the feel of her soothing touch comforting him. It had been a week since he had been this close to her, except in her sleep. "You're being very dramatic, racing around here like a menace. We have a guest," she explained with a knowing smile, indicating Ginny with a nod. "Why don't you change and I'll make you some Earl Grey?"

He nodded solemnly, moving to his bedroom, and Ginny followed Hermione out to the common room. Ginny met Blaise, and the two quickly excused themselves, intent on letting their friends discuss things in private. Escorting them to the door, Hermione gave Ginny a hug.

"Thank you for always being there to talk through things with me. You know I need that," she told her friend. Ginny nodded and Hermione turned to Blaise, raising on to her tiptoes and giving him a peck on the cheek. "And thank you for… whatever it is you had to do with that," she told him, gesturing to Draco's closed bedroom door.

Blaise smiled down at her. "Give him a chance to explain. He's a prat, but it's not what you think."

Hermione let them out, then moved to the kitchen to fill a tea kettle with water. Just as she was setting it on the stove, she heard Draco's door open. She turned around to find him standing on the other side of the kitchenette, now clad in a white t-shirt and plaid sleep trousers, staring at her with sad eyes.

She sucked in a long breath. "Do you want to break up with me?" she asked him, uncharacteristically blunt, and she watched as self-loathing, sadness, and anger flitted across Draco's face in rapid succession.

"Of course not," he told her, moving closer to her, his arms outstretched, but she took a step back, away from him.

"Outside of classes you've hardly spoken to me since Saturday, Draco," she pointed out, crossing her arms.

He nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry. I've been avoiding you."

She laughed humorlessly. "Of course you have! I'm not an imbecile, Draco. I could see that."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, leaving it standing at weird angles. "But not because I have any plans of ending things, Granger. I told you- I have no intention of ever doing that. Nothing could change my feelings on the matter."

She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, frustrated that they were there in the first place. "Then why, Draco? I've been thinking the most horrible things all week, and you haven't been here!"

He took her in his arms then, and she didn't even have the strength to push him away, relishing in the comfort she felt in his embrace. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," he told her steadfastly, pressing kisses to the top of her head. "I'm a right idiot. I didn't even think that you might take my distance the wrong way… I should have. I'm a selfish bastard. I'm so, so sorry."

She sniffled loudly, pushing away from him and wiping her tears with the sleeves of her blouse. "You didn't answer my question. Why have you been avoiding me?"

He sighed. "My mother wants to meet you," he explained, eyes downcast in shame.

She was silent for a long while. Draco was growing quite nervous, and then he heard a squeak. Concluding that she must be crying again, because of him, he looked up at her, surprised to find her doubled over and clutching the countertop in laughter. Dumbfounded, he continued to stare at her as she chuckled, letting out full blown giggles at this point.

"You great, stupid prat!" she admonished between titters. "Is that all? Merlin, I thought your mother gave you an ultimatum, or you'd cheated on me, or something equally vile!"

He felt all the air leave his body. "Is that all? Granger, I've been a wreck about breaking this to you for days!"

She let out another peal of laughter. "I haven't any idea why! I'll meet your mother!"

He stared at her, flabbergasted. "You will? Just like that?"

Finally getting her giggles under control, Hermione smiled up at him. "Yes, you ninny. You can be so melodramatic. I had planned on meeting her eventually, you know, if the longevity of this relationship is to go as you expect."

"Salazar's rod…" he started, pacing the floor now, both of his hands twisting his hair. "I've been agonizing over this, Granger! I didn't think you'd be so amenable. I thought I was going to have to beg you, and it would be just another thing you're forced to do because of me."

She walked over to him, halting his pacing and taking his hands in hers. "I know I should be mad at you for what you put me through this week, and to some extent I am, but honestly I'm just so relieved. You can't keep things from me, Draco. Or avoid me when things are difficult. This isn't going to work if you run off every time you have to tell me something uncomfortable."

He nodded solemnly. "I know, Granger. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know it probably doesn't make any sense at all--"

"Oh no," she cut him off with a smirk. "It makes perfect sense. You were trying to protect me again. You've got to stop that. I'm a big girl. We'll get through things together, all right?" He nodded, and she leaned up to kiss his cheek as the tea kettle began to whistle.

She padded back to the stove top, removing the kettle and pouring water into the waiting mug. She heard Draco pacing again in the living area, and took him the tea, knowing he'd be happy to have something to do with his hands. Sitting down on the sofa, she knew he had tried to take a drink too quickly, as he let out a yelp of discomfort and began muttering to himself about the temperature. She rolled her eyes-- he always tried to drink his tea too quickly.

She sat there, watching him drink his too hot tea. He'd burnt his tongue and was sticking it out, going cross-eyed as he attempted to examine his taste buds. What a lunatic, she thought to herself with a smile.

"Hey, Draco?"

"Yes, dear?" he answered, still preoccupied with his burnt tongue.

"I love you."

He stopped what he had been doing and turned to stare at her for a moment, face completely blank as he tried not to get his hopes up. She was pulling on her fingers, both hands in her lap, but looking straight at him, nervously biting her lower lip. "Beg your pardon?"

"I love you."

Slowly, a wide smile stretched across his face. "Sorry, Granger, I didn't quite get that. Could you repeat it just once more?"

"Only once?"

He barked out a laugh. "Well if you want to get technical, I'd like to hear it all the time. Every hour of every day for the rest of my life, as a matter of fact. But once more will do for now." He set his tea on a side table, and moved to sit on the couch with her.

She sighed dramatically, but couldn't hold back her enormous smile nonetheless. "I love you, Draco Malfoy. I love your honest laugh and the nonsense way you talk in your sleep. I love the dimples in your cheeks and your beautiful silver eyes and that ridiculous hair of yours that you take way too much pride in." He frowned at the jibe but she just laughed and continued. "I love your brilliant brain when we're talking about alchemical theories or potion methodologies, and even when you're using it to debate me and I think you're wrong, I still love it quite a lot."

She scooted a bit closer to him, admiring the delight dancing his lovely eyes. He looked years younger than she'd seen him in weeks. "I love the way your lips feel on mine. I love how much you enjoy children and I love that you found a way to give me back my parents. I love all your ridiculous quirks, like the fact that you put so much sugar in your coffee you practically have to chew it, and that you wear the same pants every time you play Quidditch and think I don't notice. I love the way you smell, most especially after you've showered and least when you're just coming back from practice, though in a weird way, I like that smell, too."

She paused to sigh, staring over at him. He was watching her closely and sitting there with his hands sitting limply at his sides, like he didn't know what to do with them. His fingers were restless, and she knew that meant he wanted to hold on to something… to hold on to her. She made her final move, straddling his lap and burying her fingers in the hair at the back of his head. "I love that you're so honest with me. Every day you grow a little more and I every day I fall more and more in love with you. I just love you, Draco- I don't think I could stop if I tried."

He couldn't control his smile then, nor the overwhelming love and admiration for her that his sparkling eyes conveyed. "So... you love me, Granger?" he asked, gently taking a rogue curl that had escaped her plait and tucking it behind her ear, before placing his hands on her hips.

"Yeah," she replied simply, looking down at him with a smile, "I think I do."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Well that's convenient, because I love you, too."

She leaned down to give him a gentle kiss, but before their lips touched she whispered, "And if you ever think of avoiding me again, instead of just talking to me like a sane, rational person, I'll Avada you."

Crashing her lips to his, she couldn't help but notice that he tasted of tea.

Chapter Text

Ch. 27- On St. Valentine's Day

"I have no interest in celebrating Valentine's Day with you, Draco."

Hermione's arms were crossed tightly across her chest as she stared at the blond who had been pleading with her for the last ten minutes to finalize their dinner plans for the most romantic day of the year.

"I don't understand why you're being obstinate about this, Granger," he retorted, rolling his eyes. They were in the library, supposedly studying, though Draco had yet to crack a book, much to Hermione's chagrin. "Is this another one of those 'I refuse to let my obscenely wealthy boyfriend spend any amount of money on me' things? Because I thought we were past this. I'll buy you a soup kitchen or a hospital if you'll go out to dinner with me." He snorted at his own joke, tipping his chair back and lacing his fingers behind his neck, looking immensely smug.

"Don't tip your chair back like that. If you fall you'll hurt yourself and Madam Pomfrey has enough to do." She waited until all four legs of his chair were back on the ground before continuing, "This has nothing to do with feeling guilty about you buying me things, and everything to do with my aversion to Valentine's Day."

He leaned across their table, taking her hands in his. "Why do you have an aversion to Valentine's Day, love?"

She groaned, removing her hands from his and crossing her arms again. "It's just such a stupid concept," she replied with a roll of her eyes, tucking her curls behind her ears. "Why do you need a day to show someone that you love him? Show him every day. It gives people an excuse to be lazy toward their partners, because one arbitrary day a year, they celebrate."

Draco barked out a laughed, earning a glare from Madam Pince, who had been behind her desk, keeping a watchful eye on the only two students in her library on a Sunday morning. He bowed his head, raising his hands in surrender, and with a huffy nod, the library matron went back to shuffling through a long list of ancient books.

The blond turned his attention back to his girlfriend. "That's not what Valentine's Day is about, at all." At Hermione's confused glare, Draco explained, "There's so much history behind Valentine's Day, Granger. It's tied to both pagan and Christian traditions. Muggle stuff! Pagans celebrated Lupercalia, to celebrate the founders of Rome and to encourage fertility. There's this unpleasant bit I don't quite understand about being touched by the hide of a dead goat, but more importantly, all the ladies in Rome would place their names in an urn, and single young men would pull out a name to be paired with for a year. The Lupercalia matches often ended in marriages!" He paused a moment, smiling excitedly at his lovely girlfriend. She had uncrossed her arms and they were now resting on the table as she attentively listened to his history lesson. He took one of her hands in his to place a quick kiss on the back.

"At the end of the 5th century, Pope Gelasius decided to outlaw Lupercalia because of its pagan roots, but dubbed the day St. Valentine's Day instead. There's a lot of stories about St. Valentine, but my favorite is about an emperor who decided that unmarried men were better soldiers than those with families, so he outlawed marriage for young men. St. Valentine was a believer in love, though, and defied the emperor, continuing to perform marriages in secret. It, unfortunately, cost him his life, so lovers honor him." He chuckled at Hermione's little gasp, running his thumb over the knuckles of her hand. "I can't believe I got to teach Hermione Granger something."

"How did you know all that?" she asked dumbfounded.

"I might have done a bit of research, thinking it would likely come up on our Valentine's date. I thought I might impress you with my knowledge of muggle history." He blushed, and she thought he had rarely looked more endearing.

"All right," she reluctantly agreed with a sigh. "I'll go out with you for Valentine's Day."

He gave her a wide, beautiful smile. "Splendid!"

"But," she cut him off, before he could delve into plans again, "no extravagant gifts. Dinner only."

He rolled his eyes. "Granger, you can't celebrate Valentine's Day without gifts!" She hummed her disapproval of his stance, giving him a fixed stare that let him know she would not be backing down. "Fine!" he finally acquiesced with a smirk, "No gifts, then." He lifted an eyebrow at her, as she turned away from him. She heard him mutter under his breath, "Just this once."

She chuckled, but nodded her agreement as she opened up her Magical Theory textbook, glad to be done with the conversation.

Hermione sat beside Ginny, the two whispering to one another about the devastating and wildly public breakup of Anthony and Padma. Their potions table was completely empty before them, as Slughorn had advised the class that they wouldn't be brewing today, a complete abnormality in Advanced Potion Making. Hermione heard Draco slip into the seat behind her, next to Pansy. He didn't have any morning classes on Tuesdays, unlike her, and he often slept straight through lunch, not waking up until Advanced Potion Making in the afternoon. She had tried to argue with him that it was a horrible waste of time, but he didn't seem quite as inspired as she was by the phrase, "the early occamy gets the worm!"

"Good morning, class," they heard Professor Slughorn chortle, as he waddled out from the potions store cupboard to lean against his desk at the front of the classroom. "In honor of the holiday coming up this Sunday, and because you are a group of responsible adults that I trust will not make me regret this, I've decided we'll have a bit of fun with a complicated love potion!"

The whole class heard Hermione gasp. "Surely you don't mean Amortentia, sir?" she challenged, twiddling her thumbs nervously. She couldn't contain her outburst but that didn't mean she wasn't worried that it might get her in trouble. Luckily for her Slughorn only laughed in response.

"But of course I do, Miss Granger," he replied, smiling indulgently at her.

"Sir… is it really wise to let a group of 17 and 18 year olds brew the most powerful love potion in the world?" she countered, trying her best to keep her temper under control, as she was speaking with a teacher. She thought back to Romilda Vane in sixth year and shuddered.

"Certainly not!" Slughorn laughed, seemingly unphased by Hermione's minor display of insubordination. "I've already told you, we won't be brewing today. Instead, I've made a perfect batch, that you will all come up to observe. You'll then be writing me an essay about the properties of the various ingredients of the potion, explaining how they come together to create something so powerful. It will demonstrate a higher level of understanding than merely brewing would, which will certainly help in preparation for your N.E.W.Ts."

The girls watched as Slughorn carefully admitted two students at a time to come up and take notes about the pearly potion as it's steam gently swirled out of the pewter cauldron. Ginny leaned in closer to Hermione, squeezing her friend's knee. "I'm so excited! I've never smelled Amortentia before. What do you suppose it will smell like for you?"

Hermione had a distinct memory of the last time she had smelled the potion. She thought back to the scent of freshly mown grass, which reminded her of her father in the summer, of new parchment, which brought her back to the letter Dumbledore had placed in her hands as he told her that she was a witch, and of the cedar scent of Ron's shampoo. So often she heard confused peers discussing the smell of Amortentia as a means of discovering one's passions, but she knew that to be so simply untrue. The mother-of-pearl potion smelled to each individual of things that they love, which typically have a special or nostalgic meaning, though not necessarily romantic. She wondered if the potion would still smell like Ron (after all he was still her best friend), or if that might have changed…

"I'm not sure," she explained, honestly. "I smelled it in sixth year, of course… but I've changed quite a bit since then."

Slughorn wrapped his knuckles on their table, signaling that it was their turn to come up to the cauldron on his desk. Hermione held her hair back with one hand, leaning over the potion and inhaling deeply, as the rising steam made her hair begin to frizz despite the potion she used in it most days that smoothed out her bushy curls. She turned to watch as Ginny inhaled also, her eyes closed and her face a picture of pure bliss. After a few moments of observation and note taking, the professor permitted them one more long whiff, before instructing them to head back to their table to begin writing.

Hermione picked up her quill, but Ginny interrupted her train of thought by squeezing her arm. "Well?" she asked, excitedly, her smile wide and eyes curious.

"You first," Hermione bartered with Draco's signature smirk on her face.

"It smelled like Mum's mince pies, that sandalwood cologne Blaise wears, and the apple orchard we play Quidditch in at home," she explained with a dreamy sigh. She paused for a moment, before evidently coming to her senses and turning back to Hermione. "And you?"

"It still smelled like new parchment. It also had sort of a minty scent. And bergamot." The simple answer seemed to placate Ginny, who turned back to her parchment, uninterested. Hermione, however, reflected on the Amortentia scent. The parchment was easy, as it had always been there- it was the smell she associated with finding her magic. The minty smell reminded her of the summers she spent at her parent's office. The whole place would smell fresh and clean, and their friendly receptionist, Barbara, would let Hermione help her file and greet clients until her parents were ready to go home in the evenings. They would pile in Richard's old Ford, and her parents would chat with her about her day the whole ride home. The car always smelled like spearmint.

As for the last bit… well, Hermione only knew one person who consumed enough Earl Grey that his fingers and his breath perpetually had the spicy, citrusy smell of bergamot. She looked to the front of the room, where Draco was carefully wafting the cauldron's steam in his direction, like an expert potioneer. He seemed to sense her attention, for after a few seconds, he caught her eyes and winked. She blushed, returning to her own blank parchment, and began explaining why powdered moonstone and pearl dust are essential to any love potion.

"Hey, Granger?" Draco asked later than night, as they sat beside each other in front of a fire in their common room, reading their respective books. They were still mostly clad in their uniforms, though they had both removed their ties, robes, and jumpers. Hermione's skirt had flipped up just a bit and Draco found the few inches of creamy skin to be quite distracting.

She finished her paragraph, holding up a hand to halt his thoughts so she didn't lose her place. Then, placing her bookmark on the correct page, she answered, "Yes, love?"

"What did your love potion smell like today? You never told me." He pulled her into his lap, threading the fingers of his right hand in her curly mane, while his left hand rested on her hip.

"You tell me first," she again bargained, in an echo of her conversation with Ginny.

"Mum's gardens in the summer. Pipe smoke... my grandad used to smoke, and I was quite close with him before he died." He looked down bashfully, not quite sure if he wanted to meet her eyes when he admitted, "And this sort of sweet combination of pears, vanilla, and gardenias that I always associate with you."

She lifted his chin, meeting his eyes and giving him a warm smile before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "I smell parchment, the minty smell of my parents after a long day at work, and Earl Grey tea."

He smirked. "Earl Grey, huh?"

She nodded with a laugh. "Any idea why I might smell that?"

"None at all, you silly girl," he replied with a smile, wrapping both arms around her. He peppered her face with tiny kisses as she giggled, feeling decidedly giddy in the presence of this wonderful man. He pulled back to study her, a happy smile on his own face. "That's not what Amortentia smelled like to you in sixth year, if memory serves me correctly."

She shook her head. "Very astute. No, back then it was a bit more focused on Ron. Of course, those were the days of 'Lav and Won-Won' so it was hardly smooth sailing, no matter what the stupid potion smelled like to me."

Draco grimaced. "Ugh, I hate those horrid pet names."

Hermione laughed. "You call me all sorts of sappy names, dear," she pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. "That's completely different. None of them use your actual name."

She smirked at him, lacing her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. "So you wouldn't like it if I started referring to you as my Drakey-poo?"

"Granger…" he started in a warning tone, but she cut him off in a fit of giggles.

"How about just Dray? Or no! Coco! What about Coco?" she teased with false excitement, laughing at the look of disgust on his face.

"That's about enough of that," he told her in a tone that brokered no nonsense.

She wiped the laughter-induced tears from her eyes, kissing him on the nose. "Fine fine, no ridiculous pet names." She smiled widely at him. "To tell you the truth, I hate them, too. The only person who really uses nicknames for me is Ginny. I rather hate 'Mione, but she's the only person who does it, so I let it slide."

He smiled at her. "I promise never to call you 'Mione or… Merlin forbid anything more absurd like Hermy, if you swear not to ever refer to me as Drakey or Coco, ever again." She nodded her agreement, and leaned in to kiss him, sealing the deal.

"So," she asked, changing the subject, "where are we going on Sunday for dinner?"

"That, my dear, is a secret," he told her, lightly squeezing her sides. She squirmed a bit, waking up a rather easily excitable body part of his. "Just be ready by six." He involuntarily rolled his hips into hers, causing her to let out a little moan.

"Not even a little hint?" she asked coyly, grinding back down in his lap as she began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

He pulled off her blouse, tossing it behind them, and leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses up her shoulder to her neck as he kneaded her arse with his hands. Reaching her ear, he tugged on the lobe with his teeth. "Not even one," he huskily whispered to her, and delighted in the chills that covered her bare flesh. Making the decision to take her to bed, he decisively stood up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, frantically pulling his mouth to hers.

Wednesday evening found both Draco and Hermione in their weekly prefect meeting. After Hermione assured they had twice as many prefects planned to complete rounds on Sunday, as she was certain there would be amorous couples sneaking all around the castle, she released the group for the evening.

"Ready to go? I'd like to go over the cabalistic ideas of female superiority again before our Arithmancy exam tomorrow," she explained, turning to Draco after she gathered the parchment she had strewn about the desk in front of them.

He shook his head. "I can't tonight, love. Walker is sick tonight, so I'm covering rounds with Sealey."

"Oh… I forgot about that," she told him, trying to hide her disappointment.

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to place a quick kiss there. "I can walk you back to our common room, though. I told Sealey I needed to do that first, and he understood. I'm meeting him in the entrance hall."

She shook her head in mock bravery. "You don't need to walk me back, Draco."

"I can walk you home, Hermione," they both heard and Ernie appeared, seemingly from nowhere.

"That is absolutely not going to happen," Draco argued, glaring at the Hufflepuff, who angrily crossed his arms in response.

"What Draco means to say is 'thank you, Ernie, but that won't be necessary'," she told them both, punctuating her statement with an annoyed huff. "I'm perfectly capable of walking up a flight of stairs on my own, thank you."

She stormed out of the classroom, before either man could say anything more, her bag flapping behind her. She muttered indignantly under her breath as she travelled up a moving staircase, waiting for it to swing to the correct floor. How dare they behave as if I'm some helpless child! she thought, leaping off the staircase before it could move again. She thundered down the hall, and through a secret corridor that spit her out in front of the trophy room. She began to meander down the hall again, when she suddenly felt the familiar feeling of being followed. Wishing she hadn't been so harsh with Draco, she took a deep breath, and continued down the hall, knowing that, much like the last time, there likely wasn't anyone following her. She passed the trophy room, wishing for the first time ever that Filch and Mrs. Norris were lurking around, when she heard it- the very distinct sound of a shoe scuffing on the stone floor.

"Stupefy!" she called, shooting a dangerous red spark in the direction of the noise.

"Oi!" she heard, as Draco appeared from under a disillusionment spell. "It's me!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hermione raged, as she nevertheless ran to him.

"Following you! Just because you're being stubborn doesn't mean I'm not going to keep you safe," he explained, lacing his fingers with hers and leading her toward their common room.

She thought, for a moment, about telling him about her previous encounter in that hall as he continued to lecture her, then thought better of it. It will only worry him, she told herself, kissing him as he left her at their portrait hole door. She settled in on their couch, pulling out her notes on Agrippan theory, and waiting for Draco to return from rounds.

"So how do you think you did?"

Draco sighed. "Granger, I'm not going to dissect every answer with you. Arithmancy is tough enough on it's own without having to fight with you about every answer I listed on an exam I already turned in."

She laughed. "Fine, I'll discuss it with Padma." She leaned up to kiss his cheek. "You better head to lunch."

"You're not coming with me?"

She shook her head. "You only have thirty minutes before Advanced Herbology, but Advanced Runes doesn't begin until half one."

He crossed his arms, looking down on her in incredulity. "And you'll be okay with Padma?"

She nodded, swatting him lightly on the bum. "I'll be fine, worry wart. Now go!"

Hermione caught up to Padma and Lisa, asking them about various questions on the exam. She had been so caught up in going over each question in great detail, that she hadn't even realized she'd followed them to Ravenclaw tower. Thanking the girls for talking through the exam with her, and assuring them that she was "perfectly content to head down to lunch by herself, really", Hermione made her way down to the Great Hall alone, her face buried in her Arithmancy notes once more.

It was a relatively uneventful trek through the castle, though Hermione couldn't help but feel as though someone was watching her. Convincing herself that she was being paranoid, she continued her solitary walk to the Great Hall, and when she arrived at the large doors unbothered, she chuckled ruefully to herself. This is all Draco's fault, she thought, blaming her heightened paranoia on Draco's obsessive need to watch over her. He's driven me mad with his incessant worrying! He's so concerned about me he actually had me convinced that the castle where I've lived for the majority of my childhood is unsafe.

She settled in at the Gryffindor table next to Seamus, who was telling a long and awful joke about a one armed troll and a mountain goat, and filled her plate with roast chicken and yorkshire pudding. Ginny plopped down across from her, grumbling under her breath about a Divination lesson gone horribly wrong, and the two laughed at the embarrassed look on Dean's face when Seamus' joke was finally finished.

"What are you and Draco doing on Sunday, 'Mione?" Ginny asked, scooping a heaping spoonful of red potatoes from the serving platter, and messily dropping them on her plate. Hermione watched as the little round tubers rolled haphazardly around her friend's plate, some bouncing off and leaving oily track marks across the table. Hermione cringed as Ginny picked up a rogue potato from the table, inspected it for a brief moment, and then popped it in her mouth.

"Ginny!" she shrieked. "That's horribly unhygienic! Do you know how many hands have touched these tables?"

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Please, I've had much dirtier things in my mouth," she replied saucily with a suggestive wink. She laughed at Hermione's scandalized blush, picking up another potato off her plate and shoving it in her mouth in a manner very reminiscent of Ron. "Now you didn't answer my question. Where's lover boy taking you for Valentine's Day?"

Hermione shrugged. "I haven't a clue. He won't tell me."

"But then how are you supposed to know what to wear?" Ginny asked, appalled, grabbing a chicken leg and depositing it on her plate.

Hermione shrugged, cutting into her pudding. "I really don't know. Knowing Draco it will be something wildly expensive and completely unnecessary, so I suppose I should probably dress up."

"Want to take a trip to Diagon Alley with me Saturday? I was thinking of looking for a new frock myself," Ginny asked, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"I can't see Harry or the other Aurors on this case agreeing to that, especially after what happened last time I was there… Not to mention Draco. He'd go mental," Hermione explained, trying not to let her disappointment show too plainly. The truth of the matter was, she was beginning to feel like a prisoner, with all of her movements catalogued and her freedom taken away. A shopping trip with Ginny sounded lovely… and wholly improbable.

"I'll write to Harry later," Ginny offered. "Maybe he and Ron would accompany us?"

"I suppose it's worth a try," Hermione told her with a small smile, picking up her knife to saw into her chicken.

The two girls chatted back and forth, with occasional interruptions from Seamus and Dean, and one brief visit from Luna. When they were finished eating, Hermione consulted her watch- she still had quite a bit of time before she was to be at Advanced Runes. Inviting Ginny back to her common room, the two packed their school bags, and left the Great Hall, quite oblivious to the world around them, as they were caught up in whispering again about Anthony and Padma, who were now rumored to be reconciling.

They reached Helga's portrait, giving her the password- "silver ramora"- and made their way inside, still gossiping about the on-again, off-again Ravenclaw couple. When Hermione took a moment to take in her familiar surroundings, however, she instantly knew something was off. She could feel her magic buzz and her heart began to race, as she took her wand in her sweaty palm.

"What?" she heard Ginny ask, a look of concern painting her friends face.

"Something isn't right," Hermione explained, and in an instant Ginny's wand was in her hand as well, and the two had adopted a combat stance that they hadn't needed in months.

They inspected the common room, Hermione using a signature spell she'd developed on the run with Harry and Ron to check the area for magical disturbances. They combed the kitchen and the dining nook without much distress, and made it through the whole living space without picking up anything. Carefully, they made their way to the bedrooms. Hermione cast a whispered, "Homenum Revelio!" Feeling quite comfortable that it was just the two of them in the area, they warily opened Hermione's bedroom door, peeking around and surveying the area, before entering for a further inspection.

At first glance, nothing was amiss and Hermione began to think that, perhaps once again, her imagination had run wild. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a folded piece of parchment, sitting atop her bed. Gesturing to Ginny, indicating the mysterious addition that certainly hadn't been there when she'd left this morning, the two ran a few quick diagnostic spells before determining that the parchment didn't appear to hold any curses. Hermione bent down, cautiously picking the parchment up off her bed.

You'd do well not to walk around without your protector, Mudblood. You've been quite bold lately. You wouldn't want me to catch you alone.

Draco came back from Advanced Herbology, cradling a potted silverweed that he was cultivating, hoping to selectively breed it until he had increased it's healing capabilities. He expected that Hermione would be back in their room already- Advanced Herbology and Advanced Runes let out at the same time, but she always beat him back because his walk was much longer. He didn't expect to find his common room overrun with Aurors, or his tear stained girlfriend in the arms of the boy-who-didn't-know-how-to-die.

"Hermione?" he asked, setting his pot on the counter, and watching as Weasley came out of Hermione's bedroom, jotting notes down with a concerned scowl on his face.

"Draco!" she called, crossing the room and folding herself into his open arms. He placed a quick kiss on the top of her forehead, watching as Harry motioned for them to come sit down with him on the couches. He steered his girlfriend back to Potter, sitting down on the sofa and pulling her down next to him, still holding her closely.

"What in Merlin's name is going on, Potter?" he growled, and he saw Ginny heading towards them with a cup of tea. He wasn't sure how he hadn't seen her before, though if he was being honest, he'd had Hermione tunnel vision since she'd attached herself to him. The redhead held the tea out to Hermione, who took it with a weak smile. Ginny sat on the chair to Draco's left, and he couldn't help but notice that she looked tired.

"I'm not sure of the specifics. We only really got here maybe an hour before you did, and we've been searching for evidence. Ginny owled me, and gave Auror Windermere the vague rundown when we arrived, but I was hoping now the two of you," he indicated Hermione and Ginny, "would be willing to go through it with me in detail. What happened?"

They heard Hermione sigh. "It's just like Ginny told the other Auror, Harry- we left lunch and came back here before our next classes. When we entered, something felt wrong, so we searched the place. Nothing was wrong, except the note. I had a bit of a panic, but Ginny got me calmed down, and then wrote to you all."

"What note?" Draco questioned, looking frantically around for the offending parchment.

"Malfoy, if you're going to be a distraction, you'll need to leave," Harry lectured, but Ginny cut him off.

"He's involved, too, Harry. He lives here. His safety is just as much at risk," she argued, giving Draco a reassuring nod, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder.

Harry sighed, handing over the message. "Please be careful. It has a statis charm on it, but I don't want to run the risk of tampering with anything that might help us catch him."

Draco looked over the note, his eyes flicking back and forth quickly. Then, he looked up at Harry with a guilty expression. "I, erm… I think I have something that you might want."

He got up, walking to his bedroom. They heard him rustling around, and when he returned, he held a similar parchment in his hand. Handing it to Harry, he resumed his seat next to Hermione, and buried his face in his hands.

"Malfoy, when did you receive this?" Harry asked, muttering a quick stasis before handing it to a curious Hermione.

"Christmas. It came to the Manor after we returned from the Burrow," was his muffled reply, as he had yet to remove his hands from in front of his face.

Hermione vaguely remembered Draco's distressed face as he had shoved a piece of parchment in his trousers that night in the library. At the time she'd been so concerned about his mother that she hadn't paid it much mind. She looked down at the wrinkled note in her hand, her skin crawling at the familiar handwriting.

You'd do well to watch your back, Malfoy. And watch out for that pretty, little Mudblood of yours, too. It won't be long until I come for her.

"Draco, why didn't you tell me about this? It's been weeks…" she asked, turning to him.

He heaved a long sigh, finally removing his hands, but still not turning to her. "It was Christmas, Hermione. I wanted to tell you about your parents. I wanted you to be happy."

"And after Christmas?"

He slipped his hand around hers, eyes still downcast and shoulders still slumped. "After Christmas was New Years and then we were back here… it sort of slipped my mind. I figured as long as I kept you close, there wasn't a reason to worry you."

She supposed she could understand that, and was about to tell him so, when Harry cut her off. "Be that as it may, you still should have given it to me," he scolded, inserting himself back in their discussion.

Draco nodded, turning to the young Junior Auror. "I should have. You're right. I compromised Hermione's safety and I wouldn't ever forgive myself if something had happened."

"See, that's what I still can't understand…" Hermione interjected, pulling her hand out of Draco's grasp and gesturing with it.

"What?" Harry asked, once again confused at how quickly Hermione could jump from one topic to the next.

Hermione sighed, resting her hands in her lap, though her fingers continued a nervous fidget. "He or she can clearly get to me. Obviously he's been following me. Why hasn't he done anything yet?"

Harry removed his glasses, wiping a hand down his face in exhaustion. "That's for us to figure out, Hermione. Now, is there anything else that you all haven't been telling us?"

Hermione guiltily looked up at him. "There's one more thing. I was going to write to you, but I didn't really think that it mattered."

"For the love of Merlin, Hermione…" Harry groaned.

"Since I've been back at Hogwarts after the holidays, any time I've walked alone, I've felt as though I were being followed. It's happened a few times. I've checked, though. I've used locating spells. There's never been anyone there. It just gives me a fright, that's all," Hermione explained, attempting to be pragmatic.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, no detail is too small, all right? Next time something happens- anything out of the ordinary at all, even a weird feeling- I need you to tell us." He waited for Hermione's nod. "In the meantime, and I know you're not going to like this… but Hermione, we have to crack down on your safety."

She swallowed heavily. "What does that entail?"

"No more trips outside the castle. You'll need to have an Auror following you at all times, even in the castle." He sighed, picking invisible lint off of his robes so that he didn't have to make eye contact with his best friend, whose face was inevitably falling with his every word. "We'll need to shut down the Floo in the eighth year common room. With an escort, you can still go to the Burrow and Malfoy Manor, but as we've seen, whoever this is knows how to get to you both there as well, so you'll still have to be careful. I know you like to take liberties with your safety, Hermione, but muggleborns are still being murdered and you're being deliberately threatened."

Hermione stood up, walking over to her friend and taking his hands. "Harry, how long can you possibly keep me locked up? I'd like a career, I'd like a life. I mean, of course I'm scared, but I don't think this is the best way to go about things."

Harry shook his head. "I'm doing what I have to do to protect you, Hermione."

"Think about Sirius, Harry," she told him quietly, so that only the two of them could hear.

Just as quietly, he responded, "I won't let it get that far." He squeezed her hands, meeting her eyes, and in that moment, she knew she had to do as he asked.

Hermione wasn't thrilled about the Auror-imposed sanctions on her freedom, but her cautious nature bade her to acquiesce. She'd spent the better part of Thursday, when she wasn't in classes, going over her schedule with Harry and Auror Windermere, and discussing the school's new security precautions with Professor McGonagall. Friday she moped about the castle and went to bed early, lamenting that she wouldn't be able to go to Diagon Alley with Ginny on Saturday, or in the foreseeable future. Saturday she had bucked up, deciding to make the best of her situation- she'd spent the day cheering on Draco and Blaise on the Quidditch pitch as they scrimmaged against the Hufflepuff team, sharing cocoa with Neville and Auror Bishop, who was supposed to be watching her.

Early Sunday morning, Hermione curled up in front of the fireplace with a book on cross-species switching spells. She'd left Draco in bed, knowing he needed the rest- he'd been blaming himself for the break in on Thursday, and hadn't slept well all week. She felt quite bad- Valentine's Day seemed so important to Draco, but now they wouldn't be able to go out and celebrate. Deciding she should do something for Draco, because he'd been so excited about their date and this silly holiday in general, she headed into the kitchen.

Hermione started on a batch of pancakes. Her mother had a wonderful recipe for Shrove Tuesday and she made them for Hermione all year round. She had learned to perfect her mum's recipe over the years, and they tasted just like her childhood. She thought it would be cute to fold Draco's into little hearts, as opposed to triangles, and sprinkled a bit of sugar on top. Just as she was cutting up a lemon for the pancakes, the water was ready for his tea. He didn't usually take lemon in his tea, but she added just a bit to compliment the rest. She piled the plate and teacup onto a little, wooden tray, and made her way to her bedroom.

Draco was still sound asleep, his face buried in her pillow and his arms above his head. He'd somehow twisted their blankets around his body in a tight cocoon, and he was gently snoring quite peacefully. She smiled, taking a moment to reflect on how thankful she was for the handsome man wrapped up in her covers, his blonde head and pale arms the only thing visible under the tangle of blankets. I don't take the time to appreciate him enough.

"Good morning, love," she whispered, sitting his tray on the night table and perching on the bed next to him. He answered with a long groan, and she giggled, bending down to peck his cheek. Quick as a flash, two strong arms flicked out and wrapped around her middle pulling her into him.

"Morning," he replied, his voice thick with sleep. She attempted to wriggle away from him, full of giggles, but he held her to him, nestling his face against her lower back. "Quit wiggling and cuddle me."

"I made you breakfast, love," she told him.

Draco slowly sat up with a smirk. "Did you now?"

She nodded. "I did. Mum's pancakes! I think you'll like them. I even folded them into hearts for my valentine." She leaned over to grab the tray, depositing it carefully in his lap.

"This looks wonderful," he told her with a soft smile. He took a sip of the tea. "Lemon, Granger?" He lifted an eyebrow at her, smirking.

"I know you don't normally take it that way, prat. It'll go nicely with the pancakes," she told him, pinching his side.

Draco cut up a pancake, popping a bite into his mouth and humming in pleasure. "This is delicious, love," he told her with a smile, bringing another bite to his mouth. He laughed as she opened her mouth, inaudibly asking for a taste. "I thought these were mine?" he asked.

"I just want one bite- I made you a lot so you'd share," she reasoned with a cheeky wink, smiling as he brought his fork to her mouth.

He leaned over to press a quick kiss to her lips. "Happy Valentine's Day, Granger. I love you."

"I love you, too," she told him, stealing another bite from his fork.

Chapter Text

Ch. 28- On Pints and Ponderings

To say Blaise was put out would be an understatement. His harpy of a girlfriend was mad at him because the eighth year team beat the Gryffindors during their Quidditch scrimmage, and she hadn’t taken kindly to his ribbing. All the Weasels were bloody poor sports and he wasn’t sure why he expected his bird to be any different. She wasn’t prone to temper tantrums, but when she was fired up about something, she really stuck to it. He hadn’t expected her to withhold sex for nearly a week! A man has needs, after all, and he knew it had to be bothering her just as much as it was him. Nevertheless, his nerves were shot, and so when Draco asked if he’d like to meet with him and Theo for a pint at the Hog’s Head, he emphatically agreed.

“Absolutely, mate. I’m in need of a drink,” he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose, as a headache had set in.

Draco chuckled. “Red still giving you a hard time, then?”

Blaise glowered at his friend. “It isn’t funny. She’s been snippy with me since last Saturday. You try going a week without Hermione letting you touch her. We’ll see how you like it.”

The blonde sobered immediately. “Right-o, mate. Sorry.”

The two meandered back to the Head’s common room after Advanced Herbology discussing the plans they had with Theo Friday night.. Draco knew Blaise needed the escape more than he did, while he was just looking forward to chatting with their mousy haired friend. Blaise was waxing poetic about all the ways that Red’s coldness had been affecting him physically, so Draco tuned him out, focusing instead on his own favorite object for daydreams.

Thursdays were Draco’s least favorite day of the week. He hardly saw Hermione-- they had Advanced Arithmancy together in the mornings, but she had been sitting with the Patel girl as of late, as the two were working on a project together. After class he had to race off to Advanced Herbology, while Hermione went to Accelerated Runes. Thursday nights Hermione tutored, and by the time she got back, she usually scarfed down something for dinner and did an hour of homework before climbing into bed. He was surprised when he got back to their common room to see her sitting on the sofa with a certain red haired Gryffindor sitting next to her.

“What are you doing here, Granger?” Draco asked, pulling a hesitant Blaise into the room after him.

“Hello, boys! Professor Babbling is having a study session of her own because of the aggressive midterm exams she’s giving all of her classes next week. She cancelled my tutoring session and gave me the week off.” She accepted the kiss Draco dropped on her cheek, offering her face up to him without thinking.

“Nice of you to join us, boys. Hermione and I were just discussing our favorite hexes,” Ginny explained with a nonchalant air, while simultaneously glaring daggers at her nervous boyfriend who hadn’t made any attempts to lay a kiss on her cheek.

“How… darling,” Blaise remarked, clearly uncomfortable.

Draco snorted, taking the armchair on Hermione’s right. Ginny hadn’t taken her eyes off of Blaise, and while it was very overtly a threat, it seemed that lust was also laced in her gaze. “Oi, Red! Enough of that!” Draco ordered. When she tore her gaze from Blaise and threw it in his direction he continued, “Keep looking at Zabini like that and you two will be make up shagging in our common room. I don’t fancy the mess.”

Hermione chuckled. “Keep your nose out of it, or she’ll hex you, too,” she whispered at him, getting up to make a pot of tea.

“Granger, Blaise and I are going to get a pint with Nott tomorrow night,” Draco called across the room, watching as she moved about the kitchen with a practiced finesse.

“Thanks for telling me, Zabini,” Ginny groused.

Blaise rolled his eyes. “You haven’t exactly been talking to me, love. And I only just found out myself ten minutes ago! Good Godric, woman, it’s like you’re looking for a fight!”

Ginny stormed over to him, stomped quite hard on his expensive, Italian leather loafers, and with a grumbled, “I’ll see you all later,” left through the portrait hole door in a flurry of red hair.

Draco let out a low whistle and Blaise buried his face in his hands. Hermione came over and laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should consider apologizing, Blaise,” she offered, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“Wait wait wait…” Draco started, eyeing his friend. “You haven’t apologized, mate? I can’t believe I felt sorry for you!”

Blaise groaned. “I have apologized! I’m not a complete idiot!”

Hermione sighed. “Ginny is… well, she’s quite sensitive about Quidditch, to be honest. Her brothers wouldn’t let her fly when she was younger, always telling her that girls shouldn’t fly and she didn’t have a talent for it.” She crossed the room to remove the whistling tea kettle from the stove top. “I know you thought you were being funny teasing her, and about anything else you know she’s really a very good sport… but Quidditch is the thing that she doesn’t really kid around about. She still feels like she has something to prove, I’m afraid.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a bit of groveling to do, mate,” Draco offered, taking the tea that Hermione brought over to him.

“Why in Merlin’s name hasn’t anyone told me this? I wouldn’t have been such an arse before!” Blaise grumbled, collecting his discarded school bag. He stopped for a moment, then grabbed Ginny’s satchel as well, where she had left it on the floor in her haste to escape. “She has to know I think she’s a wonderful flyer and one hell of a Quidditch player. I’ve told her countless times that I think she should play professionally when we’re done at Hogwarts.”

“I think she just really wants you to mean that you’re sorry,” Hermione explained, bringing her own tea over and reclaiming her spot on the sofa. “She probably would have told you all of this herself sooner or later, of course, but I’m rather sick of a sexually frustrated Ginny. She can be a bit prickly.”

Draco barked out a laugh. “Go kiss and make up, mate. We’ll see you in Advanced Transfiguration tomorrow.”

Blaise nodded in Draco’s direction, placing a kiss on Hermione’s cheek as she walked him to the door. “Thanks for the help, love,” he told her.

“I owed you for all of your help with that nutter,” Hermione responded, gesturing to her ridiculous boyfriend who was yelling, “Oi! Snog your own girl, Zabini!”

After she saw Blaise out the door, Hermione came over to sit in Draco’s lap. “They’ll be all right, don’t you think?”

Draco nuzzled his face into the side of Hermione’s sweater covered breasts. “Of course they will, Granger. It’s a shame not all couples get on as swimmingly as we do.”

Hermione laughed, taking his face in her hands. “I’m upset with you at least once a week, you prat!”

He smiled widely at her and shushed her with a sweet kiss. “Let’s not dwell on the details, love.”

Making their way to the Hog’s Head proved to be more challenging than usual. With the heightened security in the castle, there were now checkpoints filled with security teams and secrecy sensors strategically placed at various spots around the Hogwarts grounds. Though Draco and Blaise had nothing to hide, it did make their journey to Hogsmeade a bit more difficult, and they were nearly late in meeting their friend.

“Malfoy! Blaise! Over here, lads,” they heard as they entered the pub, and saw Theo sitting in a corner booth near a large window so dirty that it was practically opaque.

“Good to see you, mate,” Blaise replied, as the two made their way over to the corner booth. Aberforth came over to their table, grunting a greeting and taking their orders.

“Tried to pick a table away from the crowd,” Theo explained, gesturing to the fact that their table was a decent distance away from other patrons. “I know how sensitive you are to eavesdropping, Malfoy.”

Draco smirked and threw up a quick Muffliato, smugly explaining to the lanky former Slytherin how it worked. Blaise was familiar, of course, as the two often used it to skive off work in class-- Hermione deeply regretted explaining it to him after she saw how he and Blaise used it.

“That’s a mighty fine charm, Malfoy. Am I correct in thinking that you didn’t learn that in class?” Nott asked, scraping his thumbnail through a bit of caked on grime at the corner of their table. He scrunched up his nose in displeasure, and carelessly wiped his finger on the stone walls of the pub.

Draco shook his head. “Granger showed it to me. It’s bloody useful. We’ve used it in class loads of times,” he explained, gesturing between himself and a smirking Blaise.

“How is Granger, then?” Theo asked, leaning into the table a little and folding his hands on the table in front of him.

“She’s… well she’s fantastic, if I’m being honest. But let’s not go into that right now. How are you, Nott? What have you been up to?”

Aberforth brought them over platters of fish and chips and mugs brimming with richly colored ale, as Theo detailed what he’d been up to in the months since the war ended. His father was in prison, along with Draco’s father and the other Death Eaters who hadn’t run after the final battle. As such, his family’s business, vaults, shares, and stocks had been left to Theo, as the head of his house.

“So you see, getting all of the financials under control was a bit of a feat. It’s kept me rather busy,” the mousy haired man explained, taking a long pull from his pint.

“It sounds that way, mate. I reckon you’ve been a fair bit busier than we have,” Blaise said with a smile, stealing a chip from Draco’s plate and popping it in his mouth. He grimaced. Draco always drowned the damn things in vinegar.

“I suppose so. After all, I haven’t had time to go chasing any Gryffindor skirt, have I?” Theo retorted, his eyebrows disappearing into his uneven fringe.

Draco studied his friend. He’d known Theodore Nott since he was four years old- a trifle longer than Blaise, who he’d met when he was around seven or eight. Nott was his oldest mate. He looked tired, like he hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in months- the bags under his eyes were indicative enough, but there was a worn tired look in the dull look of his hazel eyes and the set of his jaw. His friend had always been a bit spindly, but Draco thought to ask if Theo had been eating at all anymore, as he looked borderline emaciated.

Nott had known tragedies that his friends couldn’t imagine. Draco remembered Theo hesitantly raising his hand in Care of Magical Creatures, when Hagrid had asked who could see the thestrals. His friend was always incredibly private, and Draco thought that he might be the only person to know that Theo could see the thestrals because he’d watched his mother die, succumbing to a long and miserable battle with Black Cat Flu. Theo had always carried himself with the air of a hermit crab; all locked up so that no one could penetrate the thick metaphorical wall he kept around himself at all times. Draco had been let in once or twice, and that was enough for him to consider Nott a friend for life, even if they weren’t as close now as they once had been.

“We never intended to abandon you for the girls,” Draco explained, studying the condensation running down the side of his nearly empty mug. Theo gave him an incredulous look and Draco continued, “Pansy said that you might feel--”

“Pansy talks too much,” Theo grumbled under his breath, his eyes firmly fixed on the numerous divots in the battered table.

“Nevertheless, mate,” Blaise chimed in, “you should know that it isn’t like that. Perhaps we should find you a bird, eh? Some pretty little lion so you can join the club?” He winked at Nott, who only rolled his eyes.

“You’re both tossers,” he replied, but a slight smile turned up the curve of his mouth. “Go on, then. Let’s hear about the ginger. I know you want to tell me.”

Blaise let out a full bellied laugh. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Lions are where it’s at. They aren’t afraid to try anything, if you catch my drift.” He lifted his eyebrows lecherously, and both his companions snorted.

“Can you confirm this, Malfoy? Should I get a lion of my own?” Theo asked, tipping his fingers at Aberforth, indicating he’d like another pint.

Draco just shrugged. “Granger and I… we haven’t… not yet,” he stammered, lifting his mug to his mouth and draining it in one go.

Theo’s eyes widened comically, and he snickered. “You mean to tell me you’re running around with a muggleborn, ruining your reputation, and she hasn’t even let you shag her yet? What’s the point, mate?”

Draco suddenly had a distinct memory of Nott making fun of Hermione in their sixth year potions class. His fist clenched and he opened his mouth for a scathing retort, but was cut off by Blaise.

“Oi, none of that now, Nott. At least Draco has a girl,” he teased, raising an eyebrow in challenge to their friend.

“A bloody perfect one, at that,” Draco added. “If anyone is ruining their reputation by committing to this relationship, it’s her. She’s a damn war hero and I’m…” He trailed off, running his hands through his hair, his anxious habit. He looked down. Aberforth had brought over another round of drinks. When had that happened?

“She’s a muggleborn, mate. At least Zabini here had the decency to chase after a pureblood, even if she is a blood traitor,” Theo explained, concern evident in his eyes. It was that look, that concerned look, that made Draco feel sorry for the man across the table from him.

“You can’t honestly tell me you still believe that shit, do you?” he asked, incredulously. “We fought a damn war over it. We lost the bloody war over it.”

He watched Theo shrug, noncommittally. “Listen, mate… I can’t just forget everything we grew up with. I’m… no listen, Draco,” he pacified, when he saw the angry gleam in his friend’s eyes, “I’m willing to try with Granger. Because she’s important to you. It’s… hard. She sent my bleeding father to prison, and I don’t have her gagging after my cock to make me feel better about it.”

Draco was mere seconds from punching the man. Forget magic, he wanted to feel the satisfaction of muggle brawling, of breaking Nott’s nose under his fist. Some primal part of him wanted to defend Hermione’s honor in an animalistic way. But then he heard her swotty voice in his head, telling him not to make a spectacle of himself, and he took a few deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth until he calmed down.

“I can assure you, Nott, that Hermione isn’t ‘gagging’ after anything,” he said finally, in a deadly calm voice that made the hairs on the back of Theo’s neck stand up.

Blaise, always trying to diffuse the tension, added, “That’s true. Draco chased after her for months. It was rather pathetic.”

Theo sighed. “This whole conversation has gone pear shaped. I didn’t mean to cock it up so badly. What I meant to say was… I can’t make any promises about muggleborns. I’m not quite there yet. But, I do promise to try with Granger. It won’t be easy for me, Malfoy, but I want to try. I don’t have a lot of friends as it is. I can’t have you miffed at me.”

Draco gave him a wary look, but nodded. “Just know that Granger comes first. I told my mother the same thing. If I won’t make exceptions for her, I’m not going to make them for you.”

Theo nodded. Then, with a mischievous smirk asked, “How did Mummy dearest take the news, then?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “She said she’d try, same as you. She wants to meet Hermione. That has to be postponed, of course. Mother’s on house arrest and Hermione can’t really leave the castle.”

“They’re really cracking down on this whole Granger thing, then?” Theo asked, finishing off his second pint.

“Someone’s threatening her, mate. It’s bad. They’re just trying to do what they can to keep her safe,” Draco explained, taking a long drink from his mug and closing his eyes for a moment to savor the sweet, nutty flavor of his ale.

While his eyes were still shut Draco heard Blaise add, “It would be easier to do, of course, if Granger wasn’t so damn stubborn.”

“What can I say,” Draco commented, opening his eyes and fixing his trademark smirk on his lips, “She’s a lion through and through.”

“I’ve been hearing some things, mate. I wasn’t ever a Death Eater, so I don’t know where it’s coming from or any specifics… but I’d be careful. They want her badly,” Theo warned, leaning in to speak in a conspiratorial voice, clearly forgetting about the charm Draco had cast at the beginning of their conversation.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, now nervously finishing off his pint and gesturing to Aberforth to bring another round.

Theo sighed heavily. “I tried to talk to Potter about it at your party, but he fought me tooth and nail about divulging anything. The Death Eaters. They want Hermione. I’m near certain that all of these other killings have just been a prelude to that.”

Aberforth dropped three more glass mugs on the table, and all three men carelessly commandeered one. Draco’s hands were nervously shaking and he slopped a bit onto the table before bringing it to his mouth. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, an action that would have made his poor mother shudder in horror, he reflected on what this could mean. He’d worked with the Death Eaters long enough to know that they wouldn’t stop until they had her, or they were captured. And they wouldn’t just kill her. Draco could only imagine the horrors that would await his beloved Gryffindor if they managed to get their hands on her. He still had nightmares-- he could still hear the screams of the girls who were tortured in his home.

“Is that why you stormed off, then?” Blaise asked, acutely aware of Draco’s discomfort and trying to nonchalantly assist him.

Theo nodded. “Yeah, of course. Why did you guys think I left?”

Blaise snorted. “Potter and Daph looked pretty cozy, and you’ve always been a bit… territorial.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Daph and I haven’t been a thing in years. Admittedly, I didn’t love seeing her with Saint Potter, but that’s not because I’m still carrying a torch for her or anything. We were just a couple of kids, having a bit of fun.”

Blaise looked over, studying his blonde friend. Draco had been through so much more than anyone knew. He’d gotten plastered and told Blaise more than he’d likely told anyone else… and that still didn’t really scratch the surface of everything that noseless bastard had put his friend through. Blaise clapped him on the shoulder, giving into an impulsive moment of pseudo-affection that the two never really displayed, best mates or not.

“All right there, mate?” he asked under his breath. Draco nodded, but Blaise didn’t miss the strained look in his eyes or the tightness of his jaw. He’d seen that look. Only one person could calm that look off of his face, and she was likely nose deep in a book back at the castle. Only one thing to do, then, Blaise thought. “Aberforth, another round?” he called. Smiling, he turned back to his friends. “C’mon, gents. Let’s get well and truly pissed.”

Draco nodded a greeting at the Auror positioned outside the common room door, before entering through the portrait hole. His limbs were a little sore from his inebriated walk up to the castle in the cool, damp night air of early March. He was looking forward to nestling in close to Hermione and going to sleep. His mind was racing.

“You’re home earlier than I expected,” he heard as he fully entered the room, finding Hermione on the couch in front of a fire with a book. She was wearing his favorite pyjamas- the emerald ones with the black lace- and he thought she looked positively edible.

“It’s nearly eleven, love,” he told her, studying his timepiece intently. He wasn’t drunk by any means, but he also wasn’t completely sober either, and the tiny numbers on the watch face seemed to be swimming just a little.

“Last time you went out, with Blaise and Neville, you weren’t home until well after midnight,” she responded, patting the seat next to her and inviting him to sit with her.

“That was months ago, Granger. You hadn’t let me see your knickers yet. I have a bit more incentive to head home early now, wouldn’t you agree?” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, but she only laughed.

“So charming,” she told him with a playful eye roll, as he laid down and opened his arms to her. Moving into his embrace she remarked, “You’re quite chilly, aren’t you?” She muttered a quick summoning spell, and within seconds had them cocooned under a blanket in front of the fire.

“Much better, love. Thanks,” Draco told her, tightening his grip on her waist as he shut his eyes.

“How was your evening?” she asked tentatively, burrowing deeper into his chest and running her nose along his sternum. She heard him sigh.

“All right, I suppose. Things are so… so different now. Theo is a good bloke and a good friend, but some part of me wonders if we’ll ever be able to be as close as we were before the war. Too much has changed.” He felt Hermione’s little fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I know that must be difficult,” she told him, and he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Talking to Theo did get me thinking, though,” he admitted, slipping his hand under the silky material of her top and rubbing circles on her heated skin.

“About what, love?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him.

“About you. And us. And this whole damn case.” She heard him let out a little groan. “We won’t ever be able to live a normal life while this is happening, Granger. It’s maddening to me that I haven’t been able to do anything to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Draco. We’ve been over this,” she told him, laying her head back down on his chest.

“I know that’s what you always say, Granger. It doesn’t change how I feel, though.”

She rolled her eyes, but the expression was lost on him as her head was tucked under his chin. “Even if you wanted to, there isn’t anything for you to do. We just have to wait and let the Aurors do their jobs,” she placated, resuming her stroking of his pectoral. She heard him sigh quite heavily and she felt herself move on top of his stomach with the force of the exhale.

“They aren’t getting anywhere, Hermione,” he told her, tightening his hold around her waist, subconsciously pulling her closer for comfort and breathing in the smell of her hair. “I want to keep you safe. I want us to have a future.” She felt him coiling and uncoiling a curl around his finger. Giving it a little tug, he released it finally, watching it spring back into place. Steeling himself for a moment, he thought that he’d do anything to keep her safe. He wanted to play with her crazy curls for the rest of his life. He cleared his throat. “I think I need to go see my father.”

Chapter Text

Ch. 29- On Death Eaters: Past, Present, and Future

Draco took in the grey walls that he had hoped he’d never have to see again. There was still the same brown grime, leaking from the ceiling ominously, and the room was still devoid of any and all contented feelings. Not that anyone, least of all him, had ever expected for Azkaban to be warm and cozy, but the general feeling of discomfort did make it rather uncomfortable for visitors.

A few minutes passed, and Draco studied his shadow on the wall, cast by the dim light of the setting sun through the tiny window on the opposite side of the room- visiting hours would be over soon. He had intentionally waited until now. Potter had advised that he have an ironclad reason for leaving, so that Lucius couldn’t goad him into a longer visit. He flattened down his hair- if his silhouette was anything to go off of, he was in need of a haircut. The longer his hair got the more people told him he looked like his father, something which ensured he had regular trimmings.

He looked up when the metal door on the far wall opened, and a guard came out. She ushered Dracofurther into the building, where the visitation rooms were located. She smiled at him, but he noticed the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Regarding him with a somewhat dubious look, she ran a secrecy sensor over him and took his wand, stowing it away in a lock box until his visit was complete. Then, when she was sure he wasn’t up to anything nefarious, she escorted him into a glass room, where his father waited with his feet bound and his hands attached to magic dampening shackles that were fixed to the sturdy table in front of him.

As Dracoapproached the middle of the room, he took a moment to survey the man before him. He was so different than the wizard that Draco remembered from mere months before, standing trial before the Wizengamot. His face was now gaunt, and lined more than Draco could remember; Azkaban was aging his handsome father, there was no question. His hair- once the pride of his appearance- was tied loosely back from his face, with pitiful strands hanging in his eyes. Everything from the slump of his shoulders to the dusky look of his skin had the mark of a dejected man. Then he tipped his head up to watch his son enter the room, and Draco noted the cold resolve in his eyes. That, at least, was familiar.

“I was quite surprised to find out you wanted to see me,” his father growled, his voice thick and rough with disuse.

“Yes, well… it couldn’t be helped, I suppose. I’m not here of my own volition, I assure you,” Draco explained, sitting down elegantly in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest.

A sneer curled Lucius’ lip. “You’re here for your mudblood then, I take it.”

“Don’t use that word,” Draco snarled. Then, regaining his composure, he continued, “This is going to be a very quick trip, Father, as I don’t particularly want to spend time with someone who, for nonsensical reasons, thinks so little of the woman I love.”

Lucius inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring and a menacing look in his silver eyes, so similar to Draco’s. “You think you love the little slag?”

Draco slammed his fists down on the table, the loud bang echoing through the room. Several Aurors came to the windows, but held off entering when they saw that the younger Malfoy wasn’t harming his father. Getting up from the table and running his hands vigorously through his hair, Draco worked on calming his temper, listening to Hermione’s voice in his head before he had left that afternoon. He’ll try to get a rise out of you, love. Don’t let him. Keep control of the conversation. Whatever he says, I’ll be here waiting when you get back. Draco let trivial thoughts of Hermione soothe him- her freckled nose, her adorable snort, and the fact that her hands were constantly covered in ink. He slowly turned back to his father.

“I don’t ‘think’, Father. I’m not a child. I love Hermione and by some strange miracle, she loves me, too. Merlin knows I don’t deserve it, but she does, foolish little thing that she is.” He sighed, sinking back into his chair but not meeting his father’s eyes. “You were a terrible father. Let’s not pretend you gave me anything to aspire to with regards to child rearing.” He heard Lucius’ sharp inhale, but couldn’t find it in him to feel guilty about his harsh words-- they were true. Bracing himself, he turned his eyes up to meet his father’s. “You did, however, give me something to aspire to as a husband. You always loved Mum. You always took care of her.” He looked beseechingly into his father’s eyes, willing him to dredge up some hitherto unseen paternal feelings. “I love Hermione, Father. Help me take care of her.”

“She’ll sully our bloodline, Draco. Our family line will be ruined,” Lucius stated imploringly.

“Father,” Draco started in the deadly calm voice he had learned from the pathetic man sitting in front of him, so alarming that he thought he saw his father shudder ever so slightly. “I’m going to say this once more, to make myself perfectly clear. I love her. Nothing she could ever do could ruin us. You did a fine job of that, all on your own alongside the Dark Lord, not to mention dragging Mother and I into your mess. If anything, should Hermione one day consent to marry me and be the mother of my children, she’d give new life to a dying family tree and a pathetic name.” He got up then, gracefully pushing himself out of his chair to hover over his father, still using the eerily calm tone of voice that somehow commanded attention better than shouting ever could. “Hermione is kind and smart and beautiful and good. We’ve not had anyone so inherently good in our family in a long time. Maybe ever. She makes me happy, Father. She makes me better. You must know how much she means to me, if I’ve come here asking your help to protect her. But Malfoy men protect the women they love at all costs.” Then, leaning on the table with his hands on either side of his father’s manacles he asked, “Now then, will you please help me save the person that means more to me than anything? Will you consent to give the Aurors information about the Death Eaters still evading capture?”

Draco studied his father’s hide eyes. The impassive look on his face gave nothing away. After several moments of silence, Draco felt he had his answer.

“Very well. It’s what I expected. You’ve never cared about my happiness or well being. Why should you start now?” He stalked to the door, knocking on it for the guards to let him out, without another word to his father. Exhaling deeply as they checked him once more with the secrecy sensors before retrieving his wand, he could only think of Hermione, and what an enormous failure today had been for her.

“You’re back!” Hermione called as Draco entered through their portrait hole with a nod at the guarding Auror. She went to the door to meet him, but knew that he didn’t come bearing good news by the downcast curl of his shoulders and the unhappy way his jaw was clenched. She pushed the fringe out of his eyes- he was in desperate need of a haircut- and pulled him down for a sweet, comforting kiss.

Draco took solace in her warm body. He could tell she had just gotten out of the shower by the damp curls she had secured back in a tight plait, and he slumped over to press his face in the fragrant skin of her neck. Pressing kisses there, he began mumbling words that she couldn’t make out.

“Draco,” she giggled, pulling away from him and ushering him to the sitting area, “I can’t hear you when you grumble like that, you know.” Stopping in front of the sofa she asked, “I take it did not go well with your father this evening?”

He shook his head. “Can we go to bed? I don’t want to sit on the sofa. I know it’s rather early, but all I want is to be wrapped up in your ridiculous cocoon of blankets holding you.” She smiled at him, giving him a pacifying nod, and led him to her bedroom.

Hermione climbed in bed and watched as he made quick work of his clothing, shucking article after article until he was clad in only his pants. He sighed, and tumbled into bed with her, then pulled the blankets up around them until he was satisfied with the nest he’d made.

“Draco, love… it’s March. We’re going to be rather warm with all these blankets, don’t you think?” Hermione asked, turning to him as he began settling down into the den he’d made them.

“We can kick them off later, Granger. This is what I want right now. Lay with me, won’t you?” He turned to her with his silver eyes beseeching and sad, and she thought that, at that moment, she’d probably do anything to make him happy.

She nodded at him, settling down on his chest with a sigh, placing a kiss on his bare skin over his heart. She felt him unfastening her plait, burying his hand and then his nose in her wet curls. Whatever happened today is really bothering him,she thought, wondering what his father could have possibly said to unnerve him so terribly. She felt him lightly shaking underneath her, and tipped her head back to see that he was trying to hold back his tears.

“Oh, Draco,” she cooed, pushing herself off of him and cradling him to her chest. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? What did that awful man say to you today that has you so upset?” She felt the wetness from his tears soaking through the thin, silky material of her nightdress, and carded her fingers through his hair, as he shook against her in silent sobs.

“Hermione,” he got out through broken sobs, shuddering as he did so, “I’m… I’m so sorry.” She felt another wave of uncontrollable shaking break out as he wept against her, occasionally muttering, “So sorry, so sorry” between blubbers. She pressed kisses to the top of his head, stroking his neck and the column of his spine.

“Draco, sweetheart,” she murmured, as he continued to cover her in his tears and let out a heartbreaking wail. He was trembling with such force she thought he might make himself sick, and she was desperately trying to get him to calm down so she could pry from him the reason for his grief. “Darling, tell me what’s wrong,” she begged as she grazed his skin, unsure how to help him as he continued to weep into her chest.

She held him for, what could have been, hours, listening to the agonizing sound of his cries and attempting to utter soothing words to him as she resumed the gentle caressing of his shoulders, his back, his arms, his hair- anywhere she could reach that she thought might give him comfort. At some point, his sobs began to trail off into gentle whimpers, and she slanted his face up toward hers. She appraised him, her fingers stroking over his features delicately as she took in every inch of the face that she loved. Tears clung to his long eyelashes and ran in streams down his pale cheeks to his chin. Even in his anguish he was so devastatingly handsome, with his cornsilk hair falling in his now-puffy eyes and the tip of his patrician nose red. She took her time laying soft kisses all over his face, soaking the wetness of his tears into her own lips as she attempted to steal some of his sadness.

She heard him sigh as he wrapped his arms around her a bit more tightly. “Granger, I… I never really wanted you to see me like that.”

“You don’t ever have to be afraid to be vulnerable with me,” she whispered, laying soft, slow kisses on the apples of his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose.

“There are things that I’ve never told anyone… things I keep to myself because I don’t want to burden others.” He sighed, sitting up against her headboard and settling her in his lap, before pulling the blankets back over them. “We can’t be together, love--” he started, but she cut him off.

“What? Draco Malfoy if you even think--”

“Listen, sweetheart. Don’t interrupt,” he told her with a small almost-smile, his voice still thick from crying. “We can’t be together if I don’t tell you these things.” She rolled her eyes at him, but he continued, “I’m not a good man, Hermione. I want you to know exactly who I am before you commit anymore of yourself to me.”

“Draco, you are a good man. No one knows about what an evil, little git you were better than I do… but that’s in the past. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of.” She twirled a bit of his hair in her fingers, before tucking it behind his ear and cupping his cheek.

Draco leaned into her palm, finding momentary relief in her warm touch. “The night you told me about your parents, love… do you remember that? Asking me about my nightmares?” She nodded. “I’d like to tell you about them. About all of it; the war, my childhood… my father. I’ve never told anyone before. I want to be completely honest with you, sweetheart. Always.”

She settled a bit more into his lap, listening to his heart pounding in his chest as he worked up the courage to begin. She felt him stroking her hair, and winced slightly when a curl unknowingly got stuck between his clammy fingers and he tugged on it a bit too hard. She thought for a moment, racking her brain about what awful things this man could possibly tell her that would make her love him any less.

“My father… he wasn’t a very good father. We’ve talked about this. He was cold and withholding… nothing I did pleased him. And trust me, I tried.” He sighed deeply. “When he was displeased I knew it.”

“Did he hit you?”

“Not until I got older. Not until after I’d left for Hogwarts. When I was young, it was just verbal. Emotional, really. I just wanted him to be proud of me. I would have done anything to hear him say he loved me.”

“Oh, Draco…”

“He was capable of love. I always knew that because of the way he was with my mother. So I knew it… it was something wrong with me. He was capable of loving, but I wasn’t worthy.”

“Draco, of course you are. You’re one of the most lovable people I know!”

He chuckled ruefully. “My father would disagree. Everything that went wrong was my fault. I’ll never forget how upset I was when Potter freed Dobby.” He exhaled. “The elf occasionally took the fall for me. If Father couldn’t find me, he’d beat Dobby. When he was gone… it was just me. I know, I know, you don’t like hearing that, and I’m sorry… but it’s true. I know that makes me just as bad as my father. I never should have let him treat the elves that way, but at the time… I was just so damn thankful it wasn’t me.”

“Sweetheart, that’s a horrible position to be put in. And as a child, no less. I’ll admit I don’t like it… but I’m upset with your snake of a father, not you.”

“He would… beat me, usually. His cane and his belt were his favorites, but occasionally used his hands or other objects. He’d haul me to his study or down to the dungeons and he’d beat me to a pulp. Then he’d heal my injuries so as not to concern Mother and off he’d go until something else pissed him off.”

“Just… just for any old reason?”

“Usually, yeah. Merlin forbid I actually did something wrong. Then I’d be in real trouble. He broke my leg once, the summer before fourth year. It was… it was, erm, after Crabbe told his father I’d warned you lot at the campsite during the Quidditch World Cup. He didn’t take kindly to that. I didn’t think that walloping would ever end.”

“I’m so sorry, Draco. That’s horrible. I can’t believe Crabbe would do that to you… I always thought he and Goyle were your best friends!”

“They were more like… my keepers. They had orders from their fathers- courtesy of my father, no doubt- to report on my behavior. My father likes his informers, you see. But I only really hung out with them at Hogwarts. When I was home, it was always Blaise I spent time with. He can’t stand those idiots. Crabbe, especially. When they hung around me at school he kept his distance.”

“I’m glad you at least had one loyal friend you could count on.”

“Zabini is an all right bloke. Nott, too. I know he hasn’t made the best impression on you and your friends, but he’s always been a good friend to me. He always let me hide out at his house when Lucius was feeling especially brutal.”

“I’m so sorry, Draco. I’m sorry you went through that. No wonder you were such a little nightmare to us at school.”

“Yes, well… I just wanted my father to be proud of me.” He sighed, lifting his arm, and even without looking Hermione knew he was running his hand through his hair. “I took that bloody mark… let that monster brand my skin like I was nothing more than a steer, hoping it might make my father love me. I knew it was wrong. I had no delusions about blood purity being correct or worthwhile or anything of the like… I mean, I’d been infatuated with you for close to two years at that point for Merlin’s sake. And still, I let them put this fucking mark on me in the hopes that Lucius might be proud.” She could hear the tears in his voice again, but they were angry tears this time. “I’ll wear this symbol of hate for the rest of my life. I’m the worst kind of scoundrel there is, Granger. I don’t know how you can stand to touch me.”

She grabbed his left arm, where it was looped around her waist, and stroked her fingers over the Dark Mark. She was amazed to find that the skin was no different than the rest of his arm. She had expected it to be raised or hot, but like the rest of his marblesque skin, it was cool and smooth. “Did it hurt?” she asked in a whisper and felt him nod against her hair.

“Like hell. It felt like… like my arm was simultaneously being set on fire and cut open by thousands of tiny razors. I thought it would never end. Afterwards, he laughed at me. Said I’d never amount to anything as a Death Eater if my pain tolerance was anything to go by, but gave me… gave me my “mission” to prove myself.” He swallowed. “My mother cried herself to sleep every night for weeks. I’ll never forgive myself for doing that to her.”

“Draco, love…” she started, but she didn’t know what to say to comfort him. He’d made a horrible choice, but it had been his choice. It was the first confession of the night that she could truly fault him for.

“Hermione, that year… sixth year was a mess. I hurt so many people. Rosmerta and Bell and Weasley… I’m amazed Weasley forgave me. He’s a bigger man than I ever gave him credit for.”

Hermione smiled, fondly thinking of her redheaded friend and how little credit he often received. “Yes, well, you’ve been making amends all over the place, Draco. Everyone has noticed how much you regret the things you’ve done.”

“I just wish I had less to regret. Truly, the whole Weasley family should hate me. I’m responsible for what Greyback did to Bill. I accidentally poisoned Ron. It’s because of my side in the war that Fred is dead.”

“And Molly killed your aunt, Draco. That’s war. Everyone knew the costs.”

“Molly did everyone a service in killing that lunatic, Hermione. Don’t act like her killing my family member negates all the horrible things that happened to theirs. The Weasleys are good people and Bellatrix was a menace. She was pure evil.” He shuddered. “The things that I watched her do… not even Greyback was that demented.”

“Draco… tell me about the war. Tell me about the things the Death Eaters made you do.”

He sighed. “I didn’t rape anyone. I drew the line there. I… I killed a man. A muggle. Bella had been torturing him for hours. There wasn’t even a reason… she just said she was having a bit of fun. Asked me to join in. I just… I wanted to put him out of his misery.”

“It’s the things they made me watch that will haunt me forever. Countless people tortured and beaten and raped and murdered. Men, women, muggles, magicals… it didn’t matter to him. He wanted everyone to know he was in control. Would order Death Eaters to do unspeakable things. I…” he stammered, seemingly lost in the horrors of his memories. “I got off easy, if I’m being honest. I was away at school most of the year. But the few weeks that I was there… you can’t even imagine, Hermione. You’re too good to even comprehend the depraved things I saw.”

She shuddered, and slid off of his lap, laying down under their cocoon of blankets and pulling Draco down with her. Curling into his side, she laced her fingers with his on top of his chest, attempting to surround him with her comforting presence.

“Draco, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you for sharing this with me. I know it isn’t easy. And if you’d like to be done talking about it, I completely understand. You’ve shared so much, and I know that wasn’t easy, no matter how much you trust me.” She placed a delicate kiss under his jaw. “But if you’d like to tell me more, I’m happy to listen. I want you to get it all out. I want to purge you of this darkness, so we can move on. Happy. Together.”

He sighed. “I don’t know why you’re still here with me. Why you haven’t kicked me out and broken up with me. You’re so good, Hermione. You’re a beacon of hope and light and goodness, and I can’t ever be worthy of you. I’m a bad man. I watched so many atrocities happen, and I did nothing to stop them.” He paused, taking comfort in her smell and her warmth and the feel of her small body half on top of his. “I’ll never forgive myself for what Bellatrix did to you. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn’t because I’m a fucking coward.”

“Draco, if she had had any idea of what I meant to you, she’d have killed me. What you did saved us both and now we’re here to talk to each other about it. To comfort each other.” She squeezed his hand. “You chased my nightmares away. You gave me my parents back. You’ve made reparations to Luna and Dean and all the others the Carrows forced you to torture. You’re trying. You are a good man, and I’ll not have any more debate on the matter. All you can do now is continue making amends.”

He sighed. “I love you, Hermione Granger. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I hope you know.”

She brought his face down to meet hers, their lips meeting in a sweet kiss. “And I love you. You deserve so much love, Draco. I want you to know that. I can’t wait to spend our lives showing you how loved you are.”

Draco didn’t point it out, didn’t want to be smug, but for the first time Hermione acknowledged that their relationship wasn’t a passing fancy, but something she saw herself committing to for the long haul. He smiled to himself, feeling a glowing warmth spreading from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes, and relishing in how good it felt to be loved by this woman.

“I think… I think I’d like to be done, now. No more war talk. From now on, I focus on amends. On being the man you see me as.”

“The man I know you are,” she corrected with a small kiss. “No one is any more or less ‘worthy’ of love. Love isn’t something you earn.” She wondered how long she’d spend correcting the damage done by his horrible father.

He smiled at her, and even in the darkness of her bedroom she could make out his beautiful teeth, his adorable dimples, and the wrinkles near his eyes that let her know he really meant it. “You’re something else, Granger,” he admired, smoothing the curls back from her face before holding her cheek in his large palm. “And while I know you’re opposed to being called ‘mine’, you should know that I am wholly and completely yours.”

He kissed the tip of her nose, listening to her delighted giggle. “I’m still an independent, autonomous woman and nothing will ever change that,” she told him, stroking her finger down his chest, “but I think… I think my heart is yours. If you want it, that is.”

“Silly girl,” he chuckled, leaning in so close that he spoke the next words directly against her lips, “That’s the only part I really wanted.”

Draco awoke to soft kisses across his chest. He smiled, feeling Hermione’s warm breath ghosting across the various scars that littered his torso. He opened one eye- there was the faintest sign of morning light pouring in through Hermione’s bedroom window. He groaned.

“Any particular reason you’ve got me up before the sun today, Granger?” he asked, rolling on to his back and pulling her with him.

“I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been thinking,” she explained, moving her lips to the sensitive skin of his neck, just under his jaw. He loved to be kissed there, and she knew it.

“Oh?” he asked, attempting to sound unaffected. “Thinking about what?”

“About you. Us.” She bit down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, running her tongue in circles on the skin as she sucked. She had no problem admitting to the rather feral pleasure she got seeing his snow white skin covered in her purple and pink love bites. Her marks felt like a shared secret between the two of them. He wore shirts that covered the marks when he was in class and on the Quidditch pitch, but the time he spent shirtless was the time that they were alone together. He walked around all day without anyone knowing that under his robes was evidence of just how thoroughly he belonged to her.

“What about us?” Draco asked, running his hands up her spine and burying them in her hair. “I’d ask if you’re having second thoughts, but this doesn’t really feel like break up behavior,” he joked, pulling her up for a long, slow kiss.

At long last, she pulled away, sitting up on his chest and looking down at him. “No, quite the opposite, actually. I got to thinking about how far we’ve come. You, especially. Sharing what you did with me last night, Draco…” She trailed off with a sigh, smiling down at him. “I appreciate it more than you know. And then I was thinking about how much I love you. And once I was thinking about that, I started asking myself what we’re waiting for.” Draco furrowed his eyebrows in confusion- a look she found inexplicably adorable- and she leaned back, taking his morning erection in her palm, stroking it.

Draco groaned, unintentionally bucking his hips. “Granger, I love you more than I can say, but if this is going to be teasing, I’m going to be quite unhappy with you.”

She chuckled, crossing her hands at the hem of her nightgown and dragging it over her head, leaving her sitting atop him in only her knickers. “No teasing,” she told him, running her hands up his chest. “I want to know every inch of you. I think we’re ready. In all honesty, I don’t know why we waited this long.” She leaned down to give him a kiss, but he pulled away.

“I don’t want a pity shag, Granger. I don’t want that to be how we remember our first time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Only you would try to cock block yourself,” she told him in exasperation, scooching back so her center was lined up with his prick. “This isn’t a pity shag. This is your rather randy girlfriend asking you to fill her with your cock.” She felt his anatomy bob at her dirty words, and it sent a shiver through her. Slowly grinding herself on him through their undergarments she said, “I love you. Do you love me?” His response was a frantic nod. “Then make love to me, Draco.”

Quick as a flash, he flipped them, so she was trapped underneath him. He lavished her neck with hot, wet kisses, running his tongue from her shoulder to her ear, nibbling on the lobe. She moaned as his rock hard erection brushed against her clit and his long fingers moved to gently pinch her nipples. He trailed kisses down her neck, clearly moving to her chest, when an urgent thought occurred to her.

“Draco,” she called as he continued his descent down the column of her neck. His eyes went wide and he immediately leapt off of her, apologizing profusely.

“Relax, love,” she told him, leaning over to grab her wand off of her nightstand. “I haven’t changed my mind.” She chuckled when he noticeably relaxed, giving her a curious smile. She did a complicated wand movement over her stomach, muttering the incantation under her breath. “For protection,” she explained, and he smiled at her.

“Learned that in one of your books, did you?” he asked, rolling on top of her again as she set her wand back on the table.

“I had Ginny teach me,” she explained, sucking in a quick breath as he latched onto her left nipple, sucking it into his mouth and running his tongue over the hardened peak before releasing it.

“When did you have time to do that?” he inquired with a smile, kissing his way across her chest to her other breast.

“A few--” she started but was cut off by an involuntary moan when Draco took that nipple in his mouth, his hand sneakily trailing down her stomach. Her fingers clenched her burgundy sheet, her knuckles going momentarily white.

“A few what, love?” he questioned with a devious smirk, licking her nipple with long, languid strokes.

“Weeks. A few weeks ago,” she hurried out, sinking her fingers into his hair and tugging on the fine strands as he chuckled against her breast.

“Just how long have you been planning on seducing me, sweetheart?” he queried, tweaking her left nipple between his graceful fingers while his tongue continued to torment it’s twin.

“I knew we’d get here eventually,” she explained around a moan. Exhaling she continued, “I wanted us to be prepared.”

He leaned up to kiss her again, saying against her lips, “Ever the prudent, little swot.”

He continued his torturous treatment of her breasts, licking and sucking and biting and twisting until Hermione felt so tightly wound she could scream. When he moved again down her stomach, his intentions quite clearly to feast on her quim, she tugged on his hair.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “That’s not on the agenda for today.”

He laughed, pecking her lips before settling between her legs. “Foreplay, Granger. Blokes talk, too, you know. I want you good and ready for what’s coming next.”

“Draco, I don’t know if I’ve ever been so wet before. Trust me, I’m plenty ready. There’s time for that later,” she explained. She didn’t know how to tell him that she understood sex was a bit painful, and she wanted to get onto it before she lost her nerve.

He shook his head, slowly pulling her knickers down her legs. “I also know that I’m going to be rubbish at this next part because I have no experience. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to do the part that I’m good at just a bit longer.”

She snorted inelegantly, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her as he extended her leg, taking her ankle in his hand. “How do you expect to get good at it if you aren’t willing to practice?” she goaded him, but he just smirked, laying featherlight kisses on her ankle bone.

“We’ll get there. I’m not in any hurry. We can ‘practice’ all day if you want.” He gave her a lecherous wink, kissing up her calf. “If I’m being rather honest, I’m a bit nervous about my, erm… staying power. I’ve heard horror stories and I know my track record where your anatomy is concerned. I’d like to get you off before we move on, in case it doesn’t happen when I’m inside you.” She gave him a little pout, and he chuckled, swiping his tongue gently across the back of her knee. “It’s a pride thing, Granger. I’d like to get you off. I want your first time to be pleasurable. Can you at least try to enjoy yourself? I’m trying desperately to seduce you, here, and you won’t stop arguing with me.”

She groaned. “Fine,” she acquiesced, drawing in a deep breath as Draco licked up her thigh. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the exquisite torment that was Draco’s tongue on her nether regions, but it never came. Instead, she felt him transfer to her other leg, putting her foot on his shoulder as he kissed his way up her limb as he had done on her other side. When he finally settled himself between her thighs, he pushed her legs open, surveying the feast in front of him. Hermione loved watching him- no matter how many times he had gone down on her, he always studied her with reverent awe like it was his first time, muttering to himself about how perfect and beautiful she was. He always took the time to make her feel cherished.

He peppered kisses all over her thighs and lower stomach, drawing himself close to the place where she wanted him, but never actually giving her the satisfaction she craved. He was pressing kisses to her mons Venus, and she was contemplating begging him to get on with it, when she felt his tongue, gently gliding through her wet folds before landing on her clit. She let out a long, low moan, and felt his smile against her lower lips, before he began lavishing slow licks across her clit. Her hands gripped his, where they were stroking her sides, and she attempted to lace their finger together before giving up and threading hers in her own hair, as his resumed their gentle caress. She came undone underneath him in seconds, writhing and whining and chanting his name. That should stroke his stupid ego, she thought, and sure enough he was looking up at her, watching her even as his tongue continued to stroke her through her orgasm, with smug delight in his eyes.

She assumed he’d slither up her body when her heart stopped racing, but instead she felt his finger slowly entering her, teasing her even as his tongue began running small circles around her now-sensitive clit. He pressed down with his digit, causing her to moan, before slowly adding another finger. Stroking her inner walls, he rotated his fingers, gently pressing around until he found the spongy place he was looking for. Hermione whimpered under him, and he smiled against her clit, gently sucking it between his lips while his middle and index fingers caressed her most sensitive of places. Writhing under him from the attention, he wasn’t long before he coaxed another orgasm out of her, taking his time to lap up her juices from his fingers, telling her how much he loved the taste of her as she lay there boneless.

Moving up her body he quickly slipped out of his pants, moving back between her legs, and lining himself up with her warm, welcoming center. Running a few passes through her folds with his weeping cock, he settled himself into place and moved over her, kissing her sweetly.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes wide with excitement and nerves. She nodded, biting her lip, and he nearly thought be might blow his load right there. Slowly, ever so slowly, he entered her, listening to her ragged breathing to distract him from the warm, wet sleeve surrounding him in the most enticing of ways.

Hermione felt him enter her, a sensation she wouldn’t have ever expected, and kept waiting for the pain she knew was coming. All the girly magazines and dorm room gossip had warned her to be ready for it, but when she felt him fully seated against her, she was admittedly puzzled. This is it? she couldn’t help but think. This is what I was afraid of? She looked at her handsome love, his face taught with concentration and concern, looking down on her.

“All right, love?” he asked, his voice strained.

She nodded. “It doesn’t hurt,” she explained, running her hands gently down his shoulders. “I just feel… full.”

He groaned, resting his head in the crook of her neck and laying a kiss there. “You feel so silky and warm around me. So fucking perfect. Merlin, I love you.”

She giggled, moving to kiss him and laughing when their foreheads banged together, as he had apparently had the same idea. She wrapped her legs around his waist, recalling one of Ginny’s Wonder Witch magazines explaining that this would change the angle that he entered her. Looping her arms around his neck she told him, “I love you, too. And I think you’d better move.” He bent down, giving her a frenzied kiss, accidentally hitting his teeth against hers and biting her lip a little too hard.

Slowly Draco began pumping in and out of her, a bit inexpertly. His eyes were closed as he hovered over her, and she smiled to herself as he continually chanted a litany of, “feels so good” and “Merlin, Hermione” and “love you so damn much”. She took a moment to take in the strange sound of skin slapping against skin, as a brief, strange thought popped into her head- she was actively losing her virginity to Draco Malfoy. Just as his movements began to stir something akin to pleasure in her stomach, she heard him groan and felt the warm sensation of his seed buried deep inside her. He gently rutted on top of her, laying sloppy kisses on her neck, and she fingered the soft hair at the nape of his neck. When he’d emptied himself inside her fully, he placed one final kiss behind her ear, before rolling off of her, breathing heavily.

She turned to smile at him. “I think your performance was much better than you led to me to believe it would be.”

He snorted. “Shut up, sassy wench,” he told her playfully, pulling her into his side.

She smirked up at him. “I love you, Draco.”

“I love you, too,” he told her with a kiss to the forehead. “Joking aside, I’m sorry if that wasn’t enjoyable for you.”

“On the contrary,” she explained, tracing light circles around his nipple with her middle finger. “I feel very satisfied. That could, of course, be the pre-intercourse orgasms talking, but still. I have no complaints for a first time.”

He barked out a laugh. “I’m glad it was you. I’m glad I waited. Glad it was me?”

She nodded. “Very much so.”

He took her hand off of his chest, lacing their fingers together, as his other hand ran soothing circles up and down her spine. “You should know, of course, that I intend to be the only man you do that with. I hope that’s alright with you,” he told her, and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I suppose we’ll have to practice then,” she replied saucily.

“Way to wound a bloke’s pride, Granger,” he chuckled in mock offense.

“Well if you’re the only bloke I’m ever going to do that with, we’d better work out exactly what I like,” she teased, nuzzling her nose into his sternum.

The hand that previously had been running along her skin buried itself in her hair, gently tugging her face up to look at him. “I see how it is. You only want to use me for your pleasure. I’m just a toy to you!”

“Mmm,” she confirmed, reaching up to kiss his chin. “And you’re all mine.”

“All yours,” he confirmed, squeezing her hand. She settled herself on top of him, and he got a face full of hair. He opened his mouth to complain about it, before he felt her still wet cunny come into contact with his mostly flaccid member. “With regards to the practicing,” he quipped with a grin, feeling his cock slowly coming back to life. “Give me fifteen minutes. We’ll go again.”

It was much later, almost evening, when they finally made it out of bed for the day. After pulling on a pair of joggers over his pants, Draco made his way out of his bedroom and to the kitchen, where Hermione was rifling through the cupboard. Hermione was draped in Draco’s school oxford, her green knickers barely covered, and her hair wild and mussed. She looked well and truly fucked, and Draco couldn’t help but take pride in that. He might not have been so impressive their first time, but by their most recent time- four by Hermione’s count- he’d been rather magnificent, if Hermione’s reaction was anything to go off of. He couldn’t wait to keep ‘practicing’ with her.

“I must admit that you look rather fetching right now, Granger,” Draco crooned, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and a smug expression on his handsome face.

She blushed, taking in the bite marks along his shoulders, wondering what battle wounds she might have from their day in bed. “I probably look a bit mad. I can’t even imagine what my hair looks like right now. I’m in desperate need of a shower.” Allowing herself to be pulled into his arms, his hands wrapped around her waist, she asked, “I don’t suppose you’d like to shower with me?”

He barked out a laugh. “I need to rebuild my strength, woman!” He placed a quick kiss on her nose. “You’ve bled me dry. I need food before I can even contemplate going anywhere near you without clothing on.” He lowered his hands to the rounded globes of her arse, giving her bum a little squeeze. She giggled, snuggling into his chest, and he leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head.

“I suppose I’ll just have to feed you then, won’t I?” she joked, pulling out of his arms to return to her perusal of the cabinet.

“Insatiable little wench,” he joked. “I should have known this is what would happen.”

She was about to give him a sassy response, when they heard a frantic knocking at the door. Giving each other twin looks of confusion, Hermione gestured for Draco to go check the door, both of their wands at the ready.

“Malfoy!” Harry called, bursting through their open door into the middle of their common room. “Oh, thank Merlin! Where’s Hermione?”

“I’m right here, you lunatic! What’s going on?” she asked, coming around the counter to join Harry in the living area.

“We’ve got news!” Ron explained. Then, taking in Hermione’s state of undress he blanched. “Oh for the love of Godric, Hermione, why don’t you have bottoms on?”

She rolled her eyes, her hands moving bossily to her hips. “There isn’t anything indecent about this! This shirt covers just as much as several of my dresses do.” She turned to show him that the bottom of the shirt did, in fact, hit her mid thigh.

“But it’s Malfoy’s shirt,” Ron groaned, making a face like he’d just smelled sour milk.

Draco smirked and was about to fire off a retort that would no doubt have the two of them going at it for hours, but Harry cut them off. “We did not come here to discuss Hermione’s attire! We have news.”

Hermione perked up while Draco barked out, “Yes, yes, what is it then, Potter?”

“It’s your father,” Ron supplied, a huge smile across his face.

“He’s agreed to help us in the investigation,” Harry explained.

Hermione let out an excited squeal, throwing herself into the arms of her quite flabbergasted boyfriend.

“He’s helping? But why?” Draco asked, still confused, setting Hermione back on the ground.

Harry pulled a piece of parchment from his coat pocket, handing it to Draco. “We just received this, mate.”

Draco looked down to see the looping scroll he knew so well.

Masters Potter and Weasley,

I’d like to meet with you at your earliest convenience. I’ll do whatever I can to help your friend. She makes my son happy… I’ve been remiss to consider that in the past. I’m trying to prove that I can change.

L.M.

Chapter Text

Ch. 30- On Drinking Games

Draco couldn’t believe his eyes. His father wanted to change? Not even just that; his father was willing to help the aurors for Hermione’s sake.

“Draco?” he heard Hermione call through his disbelief. “Draco, say something. Are you okay?” He felt her hand around his forearm, guiding him to a chair.

“I just… I can’t believe this.” He tipped his head up to look into the smiling face of his girlfriend.

“We’re going to remain cautious, of course,” Harry explained, moving over to where Draco was seated, as Hermione perched on the arm of the chair. “But we think he means it. This is our first real, constructive lead in awhile. Your father could be the key, Malfoy.”

“You did it, love,” Hermione crooned in his ear, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“Potter! Weasley!” Draco exclaimed, shooting up out of the armchair that he’d only just settled into, and nearly knocking Hermione over. “Sorry, love,” he intoned, as he caught her swiftly by the arm, ensuring she was steady. Then, turning to the men in the room he asked, “Are you lads here as Aurors or as Granger’s friends?”

“A bit of both,” Weasley replied, scratching his head, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“We’re off duty, if that’s what you’re asking, mate,” Harry replied, clapping Draco on the shoulder.

Draco whooped. “That’s exactly what I was asking. We have to celebrate! Let’s have a party!”

Hermione was about to remind Draco that they were Heads, and shouldn’t host raucous gatherings, when he turned to her. The smile on his face was so exuberant that she didn’t have it in her to dampen his fun. “Oh, all right,” she acquiesced, trying to hide a smile as all three men let out cheers, and she went up to her room to change into something more appropriate than Draco’s Oxford.

Only an hour later, their party was in full effect. Blaise and Draco had challenged Neville and Harry to a drinking game, and the latter were miserably losing, even as Ginny, Daphne, and Pansy cheered them on. Luna and Ron were snogging in a corner, completely oblivious to the noise all around them. Hermione moved quietly around the room, observing this wonderful and unexpected group of friends that she was surrounded by and attempting to clean up a bit, when she felt Draco’s arm snake around her waist.

“Oi, Granger! Quit being a mother hen for a bit. Have some fun, love,” he jokingly chided, smiling down at her. She rolled her eyes, but tilted her cheek up to accept his kiss all the same. “Why don’t you cheer us on, yeah? Potter and Longbottom have a bloody cheering section, even though Blaise and I are the ones actually winning.”

“Why don’t we play something with the whole group?” she asked, gesturing to the couch.

“Yeah, I’m sick of watching,” Pansy chimed in, coming to stand at Hermione’s side. Then, an evil smile crossing her face, she declared, “Let’s play Ten Fingers!”

The group gathered around, abandoning their previous activities to take seats around the coffee table. Daphne took it upon herself to refill everyone’s glasses with the Dragon Barrel Brandy that Blaise had filched from his most recent stepfather, even pressing a glass into a reluctant Hermione’s hand.

“C’mon, Granger,” Pansy teased, “Live a little! We’ve all seen you plenty pissed at one time or another.”

“But Draco and I are Heads... one of us should really stay clear-headed,” she argued, though they could all see on her face how much she wanted to throw caution to the wind and give into temptation.

“Let’s grab a sobering potion, love,” Draco whispered in her ear, bending down as she was sitting on the floor in front of his chair, between his legs. “Then if something happens and one of us needs to be sober, we’ll be prepared.”

Hermione sighed, nodding, and summoned a potion from their bathroom, tucking it into her pocket and taking a sip of the deep brown liquid in her glass. Resting her cheek against Draco’s knee as he explained the rules of the game to Neville, she took a moment to appreciate her friends. Pansy was seated on the edge of the sofa between Neville and Blaise, plaiting Luna’s hair with an alarming amount of focus. Ginny was perched on the arm of the sofa with Blaise’s arm wrapped around her. By the look on her Italian friend’s face, Hermione knew that the beautiful redhead was likely teasing him with sinful promises for later. Ron had taken the chair opposite Draco and seemed to be incredibly distracted by something stuck between his back teeth. Daphne was sitting next to Luna, and Harry next to her. They were whispering to each other, their fingers laced, and they appeared to be quite besotted with one another in their slightly drunken state. Hermione couldn’t help but muse that this group of people wouldn’t have been caught dead with each other a year before, and were now about to share silly, drunken secrets with each other. What a difference a year makes…

“Okay?” she heard Draco ask, and at Neville’s nod he continued, “All right, then. I’ll go first.” He paused for a moment to think, and Hermione felt him unconsciously wind one of her curls around his index finger. “Never have I ever been a Gryffindor!” he called, and Hermione could hear the mischief in his voice. A chorus of boos were heard from the Gryffindors present, before they all dutifully took sips from their cups.

“Never have I ever been in Slytherin,” Hermione taunted, tipping her head back to make eye contact with the handsome Slytherin who was smirking down at her. He gave her a quick wink, and then drank from his glass.

“Enough of that,” Harry lectured, as play moved to Neville for his turn.

“Erm… never have I ever travelled outside Europe,” Neville said, and various members of the group took a drink, while Luna promised to take Neville when she next went creature hunting with her father.

“This is boring. We need more exciting dirt!” Pansy exclaimed with a mischievous smile. “Never have I ever given a bloke a jobby.”

Ron covered his eyes as Ginny proudly took an enormous gulp from her glass, winking at Blaise who looked like the cat that got the canary. Hermione took a subtle sip, as did Luna, as Ginny began berating Ron for his dramatics.

“I’m of age, Ronald!” she groaned, attempting to pull his hands from his face.

“You’re my little sister! I don’t have any interest in knowing what you have or haven’t done. Ignorance is bliss,” Ron mumbled, settling back into his seat grumpily.

“Oi, it’s my turn,” Blaise called, quelling their argument, and continuing the play.

The group took turns going around the circle four more times. Blaise and Luna could be counted on for deep, probing questions, while Harry, Daphne, and Hermione seemed to be trying to keep the atmosphere lighter. Neville and Ron’s secrets were the most unique. Draco, Ginny, and Pansy’s questions were significantly more salacious, and they each grinned mischievously watching their friends . As each turn passed, the group found themselves more and more intoxicated.

“Okay, okay, I’ve got one,” Pansy slurred, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. “Never have I ever had sex.”

“That’s a fucking lie, Parkinson,” Blaise quipped with a snort.

“I know it’s not true, and see,” she gestured to herself lifting her glass to her lips, “I’m drinking too. I’m just curious who else it applies to.” She downed the last of the liquid in her glass, then peered impishly around at her friends.

Ginny and Luna were the first to tip their glasses up as well, followed by Ron and Blaise. Harry awkwardly looked down at his fingers and Neville stole a sip from his glass. Draco smirked, taking a long pull from his cup, and Hermione tried not to make eye contact with Ginny as she took her mandatory drink.

“Hermione Granger!” Ginny squealed, getting to her feet and putting her hands on her hips. “How could you not tell me?”

Pansy snorted, setting her glass on the coffee table in front of her. “Finally made a man of Malfoy, did you, Granger? Good for you!”

“That’s enough,” Draco warned, setting his glass down and putting his hands on Hermione’s shoulders. “Leave Granger alone. It’s none of your business what we do in the bedroom.”

Ginny opened her mouth, about to retort, when Blaise cut her off. “Never have I ever cast a patronus.”

Draco gave his friend a grateful nod before taking his obligatory drink.

“Malfoy, you drank!” Ron exclaimed. “I didn’t know you could cast a patronus!”

Draco instantly regretted not hiding his sip. He didn’t feel like talking about his patronus in front of everyone. It was still so feeble. He heard Hermione tell the group, “Oh yes, it was part of our early courtship.”

“What is it then, mate?” Harry asked, wrapping an arm around Daphne.

Draco crossed his arms. “I’m not telling you idiots.”

“Hermione, what is it?” Ron asked, rolling his eyes at Draco’s surliness.

“I actually don’t know,” she answered, tipping her head back to look at her boyfriend’s face. “When he cast it before, I wasn’t paying attention. I was just so proud that he did it, I didn’t see what form it took.”

“Go on, then, Malfoy. Show us!” Pansy proclaimed.

“Yeah, Malfoy!” Ginny taunted, playfully. “Quit being a baby murtlap!”

“Fine then, you tossers,” he agreed, standing up and dusting off his trousers. He took a steadying breath, thinking about the feel of Hermione’s hands in his hair, and her nightdress under his cheek, as he cried into her stomach and she reassured him that she loved him even though he had been a failed Death Eater and a horrible person. “Expecto patronum!” he cried, and a beautiful, silver-blue figure appeared from the tip of his wand, slipping around the room.

“Is… is it a ferret?” Weasley asked, clearly trying to hide his amusement.

“No, I think it’s a beaver or something,” Blaise explained, equally amused. “It was too big to be a ferret.”

Hermione stood up, a look of excited determination on her face. “You’re both wrong,” she calmly told the two, before pulling her out her wand and calling, “Expecto patronum!”

A blue, spectral otter sow floated out of her wand, swimming through the air around the group. When she saw Draco’s patronus-- a handsome otter boar-- she made a beeline for him. The group watched as the two patronuses interacted with one another, rolling through the air and playing, before laying on their backs, entwining their paws, and disappearing.

“Otters mate for life,” Hermione added, smiling bemusedly over at Draco who only smirked at her, though she could see the happiness in his eyes.

“Bloody hell,” Ron added in an irritated voice. “You’ve gone and ruined romance for the rest of us, you git! How do we compete with that?”

The group broke out in laughs, dispelling the tension, as Draco made to sit back down in his chair, pulling Hermione into his lap. Normally she might not allow such a brazen display of public affection, but she’d had enough to drink to allow it. Besides, what they’d just experienced felt incredibly intimate, even if it had taken place in front of their friends. She didn’t want to be away from him anymore than he wanted to be away from her.

“So Draco,” Neville asked, leaning back a bit and scratching his thigh. “When did Harry and Ron give you the ‘if you hurt her, we’ll hurt you’ speech?”

Draco snorted, slowly running his thumb in circles on Hermione’s lower back. “They never did.”

Neville looked stupefied. “Really?”

“We wouldn’t need to hurt him,” Harry answered with a slight chuckle. “Neither of us are as capable at hexing as Hermione is. Anything we would do would pale in comparison.”

“Not to mention Ginny,” Ron added, and his sister gave him a pleased smirk.

“I’m far more scared of Red’s temper than anything else,” Draco admitted. “Hermione would at least feel bad, but that little, ginger she-beast wouldn’t show any mercy.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Ginny replied with a wink, and the group broke out into laughter.

Later that night, after their friends left, Hermione exited the shower to find Draco already nestled in her sheets, propped up with her scarlet pillows, reading the book that he left on her nightstand. He was so engrossed in his book, a history of Skelegro, that he didn’t even look up when his girlfriend entered the room, naked except for her towel, her curls wet and skin pink from the heat of the shower. She chuckled quietly to herself, moving to her chest of drawers and slipping on knickers and a nightdress. She attempted to siphon the excess water from her damp curls, before banishing her towel back to the bathroom and getting into bed beside Draco.

“Draco,” she called softly, admiring the furrow of his brow and the way his eyes flitted back and forth, following line after line on his page.

“Yes, love?” he asked after a moment, marking his page and setting his book down.

“Should we talk about tonight?” she asked, lacing her fingers through his. At his questioning look she added, “About your father? About your patronus?”

She heard him sigh ever so quietly. “We can,” he replied, offering nothing else.

“How much do you know about patronuses?” she asked.

“Enough to know that mine took the form of yours because I love you,” he replied softly, afraid to make too much noise. There was a gentleness around them-- a special, soft peace that seemed to fall at bedtime-- and Draco was afraid to disturb it.

“It’s not even just that they’re the same animal. They compliment each other. It’s not as though we have the same patronus… our patronuses quite literally are meant for each other.”

“Potter told me once that Professor Snape’s patronus matched his mother’s because Snape loved her…”

“That’s true. Professor Snape’s was the same as his mother, because he loved her. Has Harry ever told you what his father’s patronus was?” Draco shook his head, and Hermione continued, “It was a stag. The counterpart to Lily’s doe. They were soulmates. True loves.”

“True loves,” he echoed, pulling her into his side. Neither felt the need to explicitly say what had already been implied. Instead, they spent the night curled in each other’s embrace, whispering sweet and simple affirmations of love between long, languid kisses that somehow felt more intimate to Draco than all their couplings over the course of the last 18 or so hours. Even with the threat of imminent death that constantly hung in the air, the emotional whiplash from his father, and the stress of their impending NEWTs, it had been the best day Draco could ever remember.

Chapter Text

Ch. 31- On Distractions

Unlike their cold and dreary March, April came in like a lion and went out like a lamb, and soon it was May. Hermione pushed the case to the back of her mind (as best she could, anyway, while still having her every move watched by MLE guards) and focused on her upcoming N.E.W.Ts. She created a rigorous and full study schedule for every moment of her free time, and was determined to focus on finishing her school career impressively.

Draco, on the other hand, couldn’t begin to comprehend how Hermione was so laser focused on her schoolwork. He had always considered himself to be a good student-- second only to Hermione in most cases-- but compared to her level of dedication, he looked like Weasley. He tried to closely follow the timetable that Hermione had made for him because he didn’t want to look like a dolt next to his brilliant girlfriend when their exam results came back, but a man had to make time for other things. In Draco’s case, those things often included plotting his attempts to seduce Hermione away from her books for a few minutes and going over every detail of her case in his mind.

Nothing had changed, even after his father agreed to give statements against the loose Death Eaters, which worried him. Potter and Weasley assured him that the Aurors weren’t concerned-- that “no news was good news” and that they were counting it a victory that no other muggleborns had been murdered-- but he couldn’t help but play Theo’s warning over and over in his mind. The Death Eaters. They want Hermione. I’m near certain that all of these other killings have just been a prelude to that. Any time he tried to bring it up to Hermione, she would kiss him and ask why he was squandering their limited time alone together… which frankly was a point he had a hard time refuting.

The second Friday in May found Draco and Blaise walking the halls back to the Heads common room. The boys had just finished Advanced Transfiguration and were done with classes until Monday morning. Draco knew Hermione would likely give him a real bollocking for faffing about with Blaise when he should be studying, but he was in a great mood and wanted to skive off work for a bit with his mate.

“What’s got you so chuffed?” Blaise asked with a raised eyebrow, as the men came up to the guards outside the Head’s common room.

“Beg your pardon?” Draco asked, giving the password to Helga and nodding to the MLE officers stationed at the door.

“You’re bloody whistling,” the Italian responded with an eye roll, throwing himself down on the sofa.

Draco crossed to the kitchen, smirking to himself. He had been thinking about several things. The school year was almost finished, which meant he could start his life-- his real life. He’d received his Transfiguration essay back today and earned full marks, and Professor Wilson had complimented his argument in favor of stricter regulation of Animal Conjuration in front of the whole class. Hermione had beamed wildly at him with pride, which led Draco to think about all of the naughty things she might let him do to her as a reward for being so clever. Yes, thought Draco, as he pulled a hidden bottle of Beetle Berry Whiskey from the back of a cupboard, I have every reason to whistle.

Blaise interrupted his reverie. “Ugh. You’re irritating as hell when you’re getting some. You know that, right?”

“And you’re a wanker all the time, so we’re even,” Draco retorted with a smile, bringing Blaise a glass.

“How are things with your lioness, then? Still well, I take it?” Blaise asked, sipping his drink and settling back into the cushions. Draco wasn’t one to share his feelings, and typically kept anything even slightly resembling emotion entirely under wraps, but something about the bushy-haired Gryffindor unlocked his normally guarded friend, and Draco had been known to wax poetic from time to time. Only with Blaise, of course, as he was still a Slytherin.

“She’s brilliant. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, mate,” Draco told him confidentially, a huge smile on his face.

“I love the ‘new sex bubble’, when you do it all the time because you can’t get enough of each other,” Blaise responded with a satisfied smirk, remembering his “bubbles” from the past. He then thought about his own bird, the only woman who he had stayed around for after the bubble had popped.

Draco shook his head. “It’s not like that. Don’t get me wrong, mate, sex is fantastic. I hope to do it every day for the rest of my life.” At that, Blaise snorted, and Draco continued, “But, I’m glad I waited for Granger. I know it’s poncy, and you can laugh all you want, but sex is brilliant because it’s with her. The love that I feel from her… Merlin, I can’t even explain it.”

“You’re right. That is poncy,” Blaise responded with a chuckle. Draco glared at him and Blaise continued, “But I’m happy for you, mate. No one deserves happiness more than you. Except maybe Granger.” He took a sip from his glass.

“Thanks,” muttered Draco, also taking a long pull from his whiskey. They didn’t normally do ‘sincere’, so it wore on his nerves a bit to be so genuine.

“So are you going to ask her to marry you after N.E.W.Ts?”

Draco choked on his drink, coughing and wheezing while Blaise looked on, laughing. He finished his glass, set it on the side table, and clapped Draco a few times on the back. “Didn’t mean to alarm you, mate. I just figured it was something the two of you had talked about.”

Draco shook his head, his coughing finally subsiding. “Not at all. We’ve only been together seven months, for Salazar’s sake!”

“You don’t think she’s expecting it?” Blaise asked, crossing the room to grab the bottle of whiskey and refilling his glass.

“No, I don’t. It’s Granger. She’s too logical to jump into something so quickly… look how long it took me to convince her to date me!” Draco explained, holding his glass out for Blaise to fill.

“I don’t know, mate. She’s still a bird. You’ve done a great job of showing her what a romantic, little arsewipe you can be.” Draco glared. “I mean, your patronuses mirror each other for Merlin’s sake! She has to know you’re in it for the long haul. Why wait?”

Hmm, thought Draco, why wait?

After dinner, Draco walked Hermione back to their common room, and motioned for Auror Bishop to stay back a ways and give them their space. He laced his fingers in hers, relishing in the feel of her soft, warm skin against his. Hermione was babbling about North Germanic tradition of the Elder Futhark script-- something that meant nothing to Draco, as he didn’t take Advanced Runes-- which she was convinced would be on the Runes N.E.W.T. Draco took a minute to study her as they walked. She was talking at the speed of light, rambling about “Vadstena and Mariedamm bracteates” and her eyes were alight with intellectual curiosity. She looked a bit untidy, with her skirt wrinkled and shirt halfway tucked; she had decided to forgo an orderly appearance in favor of time to study before breakfast. She had the start of dark circles under her eyes, which Draco felt a bit guilty about, as he knew she was definitely using time she normally would’ve spent sleeping to be with him. Her curls were tied in a crazy pile on top of her head and she had a smudge of ink on the tip of her nose. She looked a little mad, but his heart felt fit to burst with affection.

“What’re you most excited for after we leave Hogwarts, Granger?” he asked, cutting off her diatribe.

She scrunched up her nose in confusion. “After Hogwarts? Draco you weren’t listening to a thing I said, were you?”

He smirked at her and gave her a quick peck on the top of her head. “Sorry, love. Ancient Runes means nothing to me. And I’ve just been thinking about the future a lot lately…”

“We have to get through our N.E.W.Ts first!” she reminded him, as if he could ever forget with her around.

“I know, love,” he pacified, bringing their joined hands up to his lips so he could kiss the back of hers. “But after… what are you looking forward to?”

She sighed, taking a moment to consider it. “I suppose it will really depend on whether or not they find the person who has been threatening us, won’t it?”

“Best case scenario?” he prompted her.

She smiled up at him. “Living life, I suppose. Working… probably at the Ministry. Doing something I really love. And getting to spend as much time with you, doing whatever we please. That’s what I’m most looking forward to.”

She leaned up to peck his cheek, but he turned his head and caught her lips. Their kiss quickly turned heated, and he maneuvered them down the hall and into a hidden corridor behind a tapestry. She nipped on the special spot under his jaw that made his knees go weak and he growled, slipping his hand under her shirt. The feel of his cool hands on the warm skin of her stomach felt heavenly, but also jolted her back to reality.

“Draco! We can’t be doing this,” she scolded, pulling his hand out of her shirt and attempting to tuck it back in.

“Why not? No one can see us, Granger.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “C’mon, it’ll be fun...”

“Absolutely not. That’s incredibly inappropriate behavior for Head students to be engaged in. We could lose our badges!” she told him, unsuccessfully attempting to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt.

“Granger, the school year is almost over,” he groaned, adjusting his trousers as they had grown tight. “Let’s make the most of the rest of our time here. Do you know how many students have probably shagged in these halls?”

She sighed. “It would be nice to do something fun… ever since the Aurors started tailing us we’ve been so limited in what we can get away with.” She smirked up at him, moving her hands to his chest. Just as she began saying, “Okay, let’s do it!” he shook his head.

The illicit thoughts of their possible rendezvous that had been playing in his head quickly evaporated at the mention of the word Auror. All at once, he imagined Auror Bishop pulling back the curtain, finding them in a compromising situation… or worse yet, Hermione’s would-be attacker.

“Nevermind, this is a bad idea,” he told her, taking a step back.

“What? You were just trying to convince me! You’ve convinced me. I’m ready to go. It’ll be fun!” she told him, taking another step towards him and running her hands up and down his chest.

He grabbed her hands. “I don’t doubt that it would be, but it would be highly irresponsible. What if that lowlife decides to attack you while I’ve got my pants down? Do you know how many bad things could happen?” He ran his hands through his hair. “Not to mention Bishop is following us…”

“So?”

“Granger, you want to work in the Ministry,” he explained.

“And?”

“I don’t want him to catch us doing something improper… your reputation would be ruined.”

She chuckled. “My reputation?”

“Granger, I won’t be the bloke that makes you look like some kind of… trollop!” he told her, exasperated.

“Trollop? Honestly, Draco… you sound like Ronald,” she replied with an eye roll.

“When were you behind a tapestry with Weasley?” he asked, suddenly alarmed, his normally tame jealousy flaring up.

“I wasn’t, you big, jealous prat. That’s like something he would say. You’re acting too old-fashioned. I don’t give a damn what staunchy, old purebloods think of me. My reputation is that of a war heroine and hopefully an exemplary student.” She smiled up at him. “Now c’mon… let’s have fun!”

He shook his head, holding open the tapestry for her to step out into the hall. “No means no, Granger.”

She rolled her eyes, but followed him out into the hall all the same. “I’ll remember that when we get back to the common room, and you’re stuck on me like a bowtruckle on trees.”

He groaned.

Saturday morning Draco woke to the sound of birds chirping happily outside the window, to find himself wrapped entirely around his Gryffindor bedmate. It seemed that exams brought back Hermione’s nightmares, and the best way to combat the nightmares was to hold her close to him, until she calmed down.

He took a minute to assess the situation he was in; moving would mean that Hermione would surely wake up, which was absolutely out of the question. To distract himself from the itchy feeling on the tip of his nose, he took a moment to just appreciate the position he’d found himself in. The sun was streaming in through the window, casting a warm glow on everything, and bathing the room in sunlight. He was nestled in crimson bedding that smelled like pears, gardenias, and vanilla, but also like bergamot and his expensive cologne, proof that he slept here, tangled in Hermione, every night. Most importantly, he was wrapped around his dream girl, who was clad only in his old Quidditch jersey.

Said dream girl had punished him for his refusal to take her in the hall behind a tapestry by playing a game of cat and mouse for several hours, that ended with his face buried between her thighs. She’d squirmed and groaned and promised all sorts of horribly filthy deeds, and he’d relished in the four (not that he was bragging) times he’d brought her to a screaming orgasm with his tongue. When he’d finally decided that he’d had enough fun with her and was ready for the main event, he realized that she was on the edge of sleep. He might’ve thought it was a cruel joke if it weren’t for the gruelling schedule she was forcing herself to keep, and the four (again, not that he would boast) delicious orgasms that had her completely boneless and totally relaxed. So he’d grabbed a night shirt from her drawer and changed her into it, before tucking her into bed and heading off for a solo shower with his wand hand.

He breathed in the scent of her hair and nestled her neck just a bit, unable to help himself; she was a divine creature, and she was all his. He felt his member hardening in his pants, and willed it to go away to no avail. He felt Hermione stir, stretching herself even as she still slept, before unconsciously realizing how much she enjoyed the hard wall of muscle pressed against her back and the stiff member nestled against her arse. Still asleep she purred, and rolled her hips back into him, bringing his cock to full attention. He felt, more so than heard, the sharp intake of breath that let him know she was awake, and then she ground herself against his dick even more forcefully, tantalizingly wriggling her arse and bringing her arms up behind her head to wrap around his neck.

“Morning, Granger,” he grunted, slipping his hands under the jersey, and grabbing her hips.

“Good morning, love,” she replied, sighing when she felt his lips on her neck. She tugged at the hair at the base of his neck, loving the silky feel of it between her fingers, and letting Draco know that she was enjoying his ministrations.

“Sleep well?” he asked nonchalantly, before slipping his hands up her stomach to roll her nipples between his fingers, and returning to his assault on her neck. He’d found the spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulders that made her lose all coherent thought.

She groaned. “Better than I have in weeks. Probably because-- oh!” she suddenly interjected, quickly turning in his arms, and taking Draco away from the fine work he’d been doing on a love bite on her neck. “Oh Draco, I completely forgot! I was going to tell you that it was probably because of all the time you spent…” she trailed off, her cheeks going pink.

“Feasting on your pussy?” he supplied with a devious smirk.

“Draco! Don’t be so crass,” she scolded, then continued, “But yes. You’ve grown incredibly proficient at… well, playing my body like a piano, to be blunt. And I just felt so amazing and I’ve been so exhausted that--”

“Hey,” Draco interrupted, heading off the apologetic ramble that was surely coming. “It’s okay. You needed sleep and I was just pleased to have exhausted you so thoroughly.” He winked at her and her cheeks flushed even further.

“Yes, well,” she started, sliding her hand down his chest toward his stiff erection, “I thought perhaps I could return the favor.”

Before he could reply she had slipped beneath the covers, divested him of his pants, and was massaging his cock with her soft hand, while she laid kisses around his pelvic bone. She alternated pace and speed and just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, she sheathed his whole dick in her warm, wet mouth, sucking like she was enjoying an ice lolly in the middle of July. He quickly flipped the covers off of them, determined to watch his cock disappear between the gorgeous red lips that he so adored. She made a few more passes up and down his shaft, and then began massaging his bollocks.

“Oi! Hermione. That’s enough, love. Stop,” he told her, and she quickly backed off of his dick.

“I’m sorry, Draco! Did I do something wrong? You’ve always liked when I’ve done that before!” she asked, her concerned face full of insecurity.

He grabbed her face, pulling her to him for a long, hot, passionate kiss. “You have absolutely never done anything wrong with regards to my… little dragon.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes playfully. “I just didn’t want to finish so soon. I want to be inside you. Would that be okay?” he asked, and delighted in the way her eyes glazed over with lust as she nodded.

He flipped them over so she was under him, and ran his fingers through her folds as she pulled his jersey over her head. She groaned. “Draco, this was supposed to be your treat. What in Merlin’s name are you doing? Clearly I’m ready! I don’t know if it’s possible to be more turned on!”

“Shut up, Granger. This is fun for me. Don’t spoil my treat by taking my toy away,” he teased, bringing his middle and index fingers to his mouth and coating them in his saliva before using them to gently finger her opening. “Do me a favor? Pinch those pretty nipples for me?” he asked, and she wasted no time in acquiescing eagerly. “That’s a good girl,” he praised her with a wink, finger fucking her a bit more forcefully.

Sex was still so new to them that he wasn’t quite sure he would consistently please her… especially given how worked up he already was. But this, he mused, this he was good at, and knew by now exactly what she liked. Between his fingers inside of her and stroking her clit, her own fingers on her sensitive nipples (that were soon replaced with his talented tongue), and the naughty things that he whispered in her ear while kissing her neck and jaw, it wasn’t long before she was a writhing, whining mess, coming apart for him. He plunged into her, and came not long after, thanking Merlin and Morgana that he’d had the foresight to get her off first-- he hadn’t had her in two days, which felt (to his cock, anyway) like an eternity, and he knew he wouldn’t last long inside the warm, wet nirvana that was Hermione.

“Salazar’s wand, Granger… you’re bloody fantastic and I love you so much,” he breathed, withdrawing from her and breathing heavily. He leaned over to grab his wand from the night table, placing a sweet kiss on her nose before casting a cleansing charm on them both.

“I love you too, you horrible, rotten git,” she chided with a smirk.

His eyebrows raised into his fringe. “Horrible, rotten git? Whatever have I done to deserve that title? I was under the impression that we just had a great deal of fun.”

“I was hoping to try something new, but you just have to be in charge,” she told him with a nonchalant shrug, curling into his side. He gaped down at her, and felt her chuckle against his side.

“Something new? Color me intrigued, Granger,” he told her, burying his hand in her sweaty curls and laying a kiss on her temple. They’d only been at this for a few weeks, and still were getting used to the basic mechanics of missionary, girl on top, and crup-style. They’d tried some light bondage and explored each other’s limits, but still hadn’t done anything exceptionally adventurous.

“Mhm, a new position. It’s a great deal of fun, from what Ginny’s told me… How do you feel about the reverse thestral?” she asked with a mischievous smirk.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted Hermione’s concentration. It was Saturday evening and she’d somehow convinced Ginny, Blaise, and Draco to hunker down and study with her for a few hours, so this disturbance was doubly unwelcome. She turned to Draco, who shrugged as if to say ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone’, before he got up and opened the door, wand at the ready. In a flash, Harry and Ron came barreling through the door.

“What are you two doing here?” Ginny asked from her spot on the sofa, closing her books as Hermione sighed. She’d tried so hard to get the group to focus, but now that was all for naught.

“Yeah, you look like you’ve seen a poltergeist. Did Peeves drop a dungbomb on you on your way up here?” Blaise asked with a lighthearted smile, but Hermione knew better.

She took in the hard set of Harry’s jaw, and recognized it instantly. It’s the look he had on his face when he and Ron got mad at her for telling McGonagall about his broom from Sirius… the same look he’d used on that horrible, rainy night when he had fought with Ron in the tent, before Ron left them on their hunt for Horcruxes. She knew that nothing that came out of Harry’s mouth was going to be good.

“Who died?” she asked, bracing herself.

Harry shook his head. “No one died…” he explained, not meeting her eyes.

“Harry…” she implored, taking a step forward. She wanted to cross the room to hold her friend while he delivered this bad news, but found that her legs wouldn’t quite carry her.

“What is it, Potter? Weasley? You’re scaring her,” Draco grumbled, coming to wrap a fortifying arm around Hermione’s waist.

Harry shook his head and Ron sighed. “It’s your parent’s house, Hermione…” the redhead explained.”It’s been ransacked. Completely pillaged.”

They all heard Hermione’s pitiful gasp, and then her knees gave out. Before she could crash to the ground, Draco wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her into his chest, holding her to him tightly and running a hand down her back.She heard him ask, “Could it have been random? Just some terrible muggles looking for something to filch?”

She turned her head to see Harry shaking his head sadly. “Not a chance. Another muggleborn was found dead in the house… they’d written a warning on the wall in his blood. It mentioned Hermione by name.”

“What can we do?” Ginny asked, coming to where Hermione was currently resting in Draco’s arms, and leading her friend to the sofa to sit. “How can we help?”

Ron went red. “You’ll do nothing, Ginny. You’re not an Auror. You’re not trained to handle this!”

She snorted in a menacing sort of way. “I can duel a fair bit better than you, Ronald!” She grabbed Hermione’s hand. “We all love Hermione. We want to protect her. What can we do?”

Harry sighed. “He’s right, Gin. You’ll do nothing. Leave this to the professionals.”

She opened her mouth to fire off a scathing retort, but Blaise intervened. “Listen to them, love.” His voice was gentle, but firm, and none of them, except Draco (on one or two occasions), had ever heard that tone from the usually genial Slytherin. “Granger has enough to worry about… she doesn’t need you flying off the handle. She shouldn’t have to worry about you, too.”

Hermione squeezed Ginny’s fingers, and Ginny turned back to Hermione, taking in the sadness that was painted all over her friend’s face. Hermione had been through so much-- more than anyone had a right to in her short nineteen years of life. “There has to be something I can do for you, ‘Mione…” she muttered, barely above a whisper.

Hermione felt the sofa dip beside her, and then Draco was wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She thought of her parents. Of her father’s warm, sweet eyes… her mother’s comforting embrace. She pictured all the birthdays and yule celebrations she’d shared with them in the living room of their comfortable Hampstead home. She thought of the day when Professor McGonagall had come to visit, sharing the news that Hermione was a witch, and changing their lives forever. Her last physical connection to her parents had been taken from her. She could go back, but it would never be the same again. This was a brand new sort of grief. She hadn’t thought it was possible to feel new emotions related to her parent’s passing, but she was wrong. This felt hollow and achy and miserable in a horrible new way; her heart was broken.

“Distract me?” Hermione muttered, meeting Ginny’s eyes and silently pleading for her friend to understand.

Ginny nodded and silently pondered on this request for a moment, racking her brain for what might be appropriate. Then, her eyes lit up. “A party.”

“What?”

“There’s a party tonight in Gryffindor Tower. I don’t normally tell you about them because, well, you’re the Head Girl. But this seems like as good a time as any for you to break the rules.”

“Hermione, love, I don’t know if that’s…” Draco started, under his breath, but Hermione cut him off, turning to him.

“No, it’s what I want to do,” she stated, matter of factly, standing up.

Harry shook his head. “I hate to say it, but I agree with Malfoy. This seems like a bad idea, Hermione.”

She sighed. “Harry, I thought you, of all people, would understand. I mean, I know you don’t really remember your parents, but still. It’s agonizing to constantly replay their loss over and over… I don’t want to remember my parents right now or feel this pain. I don’t want to think about the implications of what this attack means for me. I just want to be distracted from it for a night.”

Harry ran his hand through his hair, and then wiped it down his face. She’d laid it on thick, she knew, but guilt was the only way she would get him to see her side. He got tunnel vision when it came to protecting people, and if he didn’t allow her to do something now, she knew she’d do something more dramatic later.

Ron chimed in. “If you go, we go with you.”

Hermione’s face brightened a bit, and she nodded. “Yes, yes, I figured as much.” She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Ron. “Thank you,” she told him before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

Harry grumbled under his breath. “Oh fine. But Ron’s got it in one-- we’re coming with you.”

“I’m glad!” she told them, giving them a small, sad smile and taking one each of their hands in hers. “I miss you both.”

“C’mon, ‘Mione!” Ginny called, trying to infuse cheeriness in her tone, though they could all hear it sounded a little false. She was determined to take Hermione’s mind off current events. Ginny knew she couldn’t do much to keep Hermione safe, but she could do this. “Let’s go get ready for tonight.”

The ladies closed themselves in Hermione’s room. Ginny was insistent that they would never be ready in time, as they only had two hours, but Hermione playfully rolled her eyes and said, “I think we’ll manage. You’re bloody gorgeous in sweatpants with a clean face, and Draco loves me no matter what. He’s the only person I care about impressing.” She shrugged.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “First off, you’re quite beautiful, as well, Hermione. And second, just because Draco loves you doesn’t mean you don’t want to look hot. You want him to be unable to take his hands off of you!” She gestured for Hermione to come sit on her desk chair.

Crossing her bedroom, Hermione replied, “I don’t think I’m going to have any issues with that. He has a hard time keeping his hands to himself no matter what I look like.” She sat in the chair as Ginny indicated, smiling to herself.

She felt Ginny fingers winding her hair into two loose plaits on the sides of her head with alarming efficiency. “Tell me about it, then. You’ve been annoyingly quiet about your sex life.”

“It’s private, Gin,” Hermione confided in a quiet voice. “It feels like I’m betraying him, to talk about it.”

Ginny groaned. “Is it good, at least?”

Hermione smiled. “Bloody fantastic.”

Meanwhile, the gents settled down at the table to play a few rounds of Exploding Snap. They quietly discussed plans to shadow Hermione all evening, so she wasn’t ever alone, but didn’t feel stifled, lest she get angry and hex them. At half six, they all adjourned to get themselves ready for the soiree, with a plan to meet up in the Head’s common room in an hour.

Draco rummaged through his wardrobe, taking a moment to peruse the room he spent so little time in. His desk was tidy and his bed was made. It didn’t look lived in, at all. When was the last time I slept in here? he wondered to himself. His whole life was woven so seamlessly into Hermione’s, and he couldn’t imagine ever going back… which is why he was still a bit miffed at Potter and Weasley for letting her out tonight. A party is no place to keep her safe. This is reckless, even with our planning. Surely they know that.

He pulled a pair of black, muggle denims from the back of his wardrobe, remembering how Hermione had practically salivated over his bum the last time he’d worn them. He’d let her have a bit of fun tonight, and then he’d drag her back to their common rooms and not let the world in. Pulling out a white tshirt and the ice colored jumper Hermione had gifted him for Christmas, he quickly spritzed himself with a bit of his expensive cologne and dressed, finishing his low key ensemble with a pair of muggle trainers that Hermione had encouraged him to buy. Running a hand through his hair to make sure it had that effortlessly disheveled look that favored his face, he opened the door, stepping into the common room to wait for the others.

Blaise arrived back first, dressed like a member of one of those muggle boy bands that Hermione so enjoyed. Draco considered poking fun at him, then remembered he was wearing a sweater to a party in April, just because Hermione had purchased it for him. He had no right to take the mickey. Potter and Weasley arrived later, looking more casual than before, though equally disheveled. The men sat around waiting for a while, chatting and sipping cheap firewhisky. Ten minutes went by, then fifteen, and when twenty had finally passed, Ron began banging on the door to Hermione’s room, demanding that the girls come join them.

“Oi!” Ginny called, opening the door and brandishing her wand in her brother’s face. “Shush your mush or I’ll show you the latest hex I’ve learned. We were almost done, you git!”

“You can’t threaten me, Ginevra,” Ron taunted, “I’m an Auror!”

“I don’t know when that’s stopped her in the past, mate,” Blaise told him with a smile, as Ginny pushed past her brother to join Blaise on the sofa. The Italian took in her tiny, black dress, satin choker, and heels, and tried not to let her brother catch him salivating, to no avail.

“Hey Zabini! You keep your eyes in your sockets. That’s my little sister,” the redhead scolded, cheeks growing a bit crimson at all of the exposed leg his sister was displaying.

“Oh Ronald,” he heard from over his shoulder and turned to see Hermione exiting the bedroom. “Ginny is an adult and can do with her body as she pleases. You have no right to police her, or Blaise, so long as their behavior is consensual.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it!” Ron grumbled, storming over to an armchair, and throwing himself down in it.

Hermione crossed the room and sat in Draco’s lap, on the other chair. “Let’s all have one round, and then head out?” She smiled cheerily at her friends.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?” Harry asked skeptically.

She laughed. “I’m just trying to loosen up. Isn’t that what you’re all on about all the time? I want to have fun for a night. Get a bit legless and forget the world.” She took a glass of amber liquid from Blaise, who handed it to her with a wink.

“You look lovely, Granger,” he told her with a suave smile, but Hermione just rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Blaise was handsome, to be certain, and incredibly charming. She supposed she could see how girls would throw themselves at him… it was just that her attention was firmly fixed on her own Slytherin, whose warm arms around her made her feel safe, and whose comforting scent reminded her of home. Home, she thought briefly, with a pang in her chest. How strange that Draco now filled a spot that she once thought she would only ever associate with a place that was now unsafe and unidentifiable to her. She took a sip and heard Draco behind her turn down a glass.

“You’re not drinking?” she asked him quietly, shifting in his lap a bit and turning her head to make eye contact.

He shook his head. “Not tonight. I want you to be able to have all the fun that you want. I’ll just take care of you.” As if to prove his point, he squeezed her a little tighter with the arms wrapped around her midriff.

They all quickly downed their glasses and then made to head out the door. Hermione got up, and Draco got the chance to take a good look at her. Merlin, she was beautiful. In her short, tight floral dress she looked like a nymph. Her legs were bare, but unlike Red she had chosen to forgo heels in the interest of comfort, and was wearing chunky, white trainers that Draco found absolutely adorable. Her dress was belted at the waist, showing off her feminine frame, and her hair was long and loose in those gorgeous spirals he loved so much, except for two pieces that were braided back, so he could see more of her face. It would seem that she had glamored her lips and eyelashes, but otherwise she was fresh faced, which he was grateful for-- he considered it a travesty that she would ever cover up her adorable freckles. His heart swelled with affection and he pulled her into a proper snog before she knew what was happening, but she gave in to his kisses all the same. They stayed like that for a few moments, until the heckling from their friends became unbearable and they pulled apart.

She smiled up at him shyly. “What was that for?” she asked under her breath as they made their way to the portrait hole to join their friends.

He shrugged. “I just love you,” he told her simply. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

She blushed and, in that moment, he felt like he might be able to produce a patronus that would defeat a thousand dementors.

“What do you mean you think Robbie Williams should have left ‘Take That’?” Draco heard Hermione screech indignantly at a muggleborn sixth year he didn’t recognize. The two had been going back and forth about muggle bands, and Draco was content to hang by her side and pretend he knew what was going on.

She was definitely on her way to pissed-- he could tell by the red tint of her cheeks. He had a sobering potion on hand, as he didn’t trust the dodgy drinks that the Gryffindors had been passing around, and thought he might need one to get her back to their portrait hole. Still, she seemed to be having a good time, and he was thankful for that.

He felt her wrap her arms around him. “Let’s go find a dark corner to snog in,” she whispered, doing her best attempt at seduction. Her hands wandered to his bum and she gave it an enthusiastic squeeze.

He chuckled. “That’s a bit forward, Granger.” He removed her hands from his bum, bringing them to his face so he could kiss her knuckles.

She pouted, jutting out her bottom lip. “I want to be like normal teenagers. No war, no blood status, no crazy attacker on the loose,” she told him, but her plea was somewhat undermined by the slurring of her words.

Draco frowned, looking down at her. He wished more than anything that they could be normal teenagers and find a dark corner to fool around in. But they weren’t normal and he felt like he had to stay completely aware of his surroundings to protect her. He shook his head at her, tweaking her nose fondly. “Not tonight, love.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Fine,” she retorted, aggressively wiping at her eyes. She made to storm away from him, but he grabbed her arm. In an instant she had torn her arm away, sending a nonverbal stinging jinx at him. “Leave me alone, Malfoy,” she snarled, and marched over to where Ginny was dancing with Luna.

Draco groaned. Silly little cow can’t ever make my life easy, he thought. He’d give her space, if that’s what she wanted, but that didn’t mean he’d take his eyes off of her. He watched as she danced with the ladies, smiling a bit when Pansy came over to join them, and rolling his eyes when Pansy grabbed his girlfriend’s hips, grinding in time to the music. He knew that Hermione was mad at him, but tomorrow when she was sober she’d realize he was right, and that was all that mattered.

Hermione was doing her best to push Draco out of her mind. If he didn’t want to have fun with her, fine! She’d have fun on her own. She joined Ginny and Luna in jumping around to an upbeat tune by The Weird Sisters. And, when the bass thumped, playing a funky, sexy song by the Vibes Twins, she felt Pansy slip behind her. She knew it was no doubt annoying her boyfriend, though she couldn’t confirm it, as she was determined not to look in his direction. When Ginny grabbed the hand of a nervous Neville and encouraged him to join their group, Hermione threw back her head and laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. She wasn’t free-- far from it-- but there, with her friends, while the music was bumping and the lights were low, she felt 19 years old for the first time in a long time.

When the music slowed to a love song, and Ginny and Luna grabbed Blaise and Ron, Hermione left the dance floor to find something to drink that wouldn’t make her head spin any further. She finally found drinks in a secluded corner, but it seemed that finding punch that hadn’t been spiked with cheap firewhisky proved to be a real challenge. She was about to say “forget it” when she felt Draco creep into her personal space.

“What do you want?” she grumbled, crossing her arms and turning around to face him.

“I know, I know-- you’re mad at me. I brought you a drink, and then I’ll leave you alone,” he told her with a charming smirk. She was annoyed with him, but took the glass from him all the same, bringing it to her nose. He shook his head. “You looked like you were maybe ready to slow down for the night. There’s no alcohol in that. It actually has a little sobering potion.” He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes, but drank it nonetheless, and with a wink he left her side, as promised. Bloody infuriating man, she thought, sipping her punch. Where does he get off being thoughtful and bloody gorgeous while I’m trying to be mad at him? She was studying him across the room, where he was chatting with Neville, when she felt someone else enter her space.

“‘Lo, Hermione,” she heard Ernie utter uncertainly.

She turned to him with a smile. “Hi, Ernie. How has your night been?”

“Okay, so far,” he said, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“Why are you acting all anxious?” she asked him, giving him a curious look over the top of her glass as she took another sip.

He sighed. “I want to be your friend, Hermione… but Malfoy keeps glaring at me.” He gestured across the room where, sure enough, her blonde beau was giving them a death stare. She stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to the Hufflepuff.

“Ignore him. He’s in a temper because I’m mad at him. Here,” she told him, setting down her empty glass and pushing Ernie gently on the arm, “let’s move over this way. We’ll be blocked from his view and he can’t stare you down.”

She gestured them into a corner of the room near the entryway, blocked from most of the rest of the room by curtains. Ernie smiled. “Thanks, Hermione. He can be a real scary bugger, you know?”

She chuckled. “His bark is worse than his bite, I assure you.” She looked down, as Ernie pulled something from his pocket. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Oh, just an old tie pin. Something I keep in my pocket and fidget with. It’s a family heirloom. Here,” he said, holding it out to her, “look at the engraving work on the sides.”

She took it from him, and began examining it, when she heard Ernie mutter, “I am sorry, Hermione.”

Before she could ask what he was sorry about, she felt the pull of nausea that only accompanied portkey travel, and suddenly felt herself leaving the safety of Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

Ch. 32- On Plans of Action

Draco had a bad feeling when Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and went off with the Macmillan tosser, but he tried to behave himself. Storming off after her and demanding she go back to their common room with him wouldn’t earn him any favors. In fact, if he knew his witch, she’d likely flatly refuse to come with him and dance until morning, just to spite him. So, tamping down all his possessive and protective instincts, he went to find Blaise.

“Oi, Malfoy,” Neville called, over the din of the raucous party, “Where’s Hermione? Harry said it’s my shift to keep an eye on her.”

Draco looked down at his watch. It can’t be time for Longbottom’s shift yet, he thought, but sure enough, it was. “She went over there,” he gestured toward the punch bowl with a grumble, “with that prat, Macmillan.”

Neville shook his head. “She isn’t over there. I checked. And I think Ernie left-- I haven’t seen him anywhere.”

Draco felt his heart drop into his stomach. Calm down, he tried to placate himself, she could be anywhere. No need to panic. “We have to find Potter,” he told Neville, his tone a bit harsher than he meant for it to be. Neville immediately paled and set off to find their friend in the crowd.

“Weasley! Zabini! C’mon!” Draco called, grabbing the arms of two of his friends, and garnering the attention of a harassed looking Ginny.

“Oi! Mitts off, Malfoy,” she argued, shoving Draco in the shoulder as she followed the trio across the crowded dance floor, “We were dancing!”

“Yeah? And Hermione is missing, Red. Forgive me if I don’t give a damn,” he barked back, a snarl in his lip. Draco momentarily felt mollified, as a look of sheer panic overtook the pretty redhead’s features, before he realized that he still didn’t know where his girlfriend was.

“Calm down, mate,” Blaise pacified as calmly as he could over the thumping music. “We’ll find her.”

“Malfoy!” they heard over the music, as Neville and Harry came charging over to them. “We lost her? How the hell did we lose her?” Harry looked beside himself. Anyone else might think it was rage- it sounded a lot like rage- but Draco knew better. He knew that the terror and panic on Harry’s face likely rivaled his own. “You were supposed to have eyes on her! How could you let this happen?”

Draco felt his guilt multiply, and the burden of that was weighing down his chest. “Me? You shouldn’t have fucking let her come to this party, Potter! I told you it was a bad idea!” He frantically ran his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair, making it stand up every which way. “She got miffed at me and ran off with that idiot, Macmillan. We haven’t seen them since.”

Harry let out a loud sigh, and then turned his wand into the air, and shot off a blast, like a cannon. “The party is over, everyone!” he called, turning to the large room of irritated students. “Auror business. Ron, Neville,” he turned to his friends, “You guard the door. No one comes in or out until we have this sorted.” He turned to Ginny and Luna. “You two help me check with all of the students. Let’s double check she isn’t here before we send for back up.” Then he turned to Draco and Blaise. “Go check your common room. Make sure she didn’t leave without us knowing.”

A brief flash of annoyance passed through Draco when he realized that he was actually taking orders from Potter. Bossy git. Then, just as quickly, the guilt came back, and he raced off toward his common room, praying to Merlin, Morgana, and every deity he knew of that he’d find Hermione there. If something happens to her, he thought ruefully, I’ll never forgive myself.

Hermione came to and took stock of her situation. She was shackled to a wall and her wand was missing. She was in some kind of dungeon, by the looks of it. It was a drafty room, made entirely of stone, with one tiny window that let in no light. It’s still night, then, she thought, wondering how long she had been unconscious.

Her last memory was being transported by portkey, courtesy of that right tosser, Ernie Macmillan. What a foul, evil git, she internally grumbled. When she’d arrived at her location, she’d been knocked out immediately, clubbed in the head with something heavy before she’d had the chance to take a look at where she was.

She felt ill. On top of the throbbing pain in her head, she felt as though she might lose the contents of her stomach at any moment. The truth was, she’d really thought this wouldn’t happen. Years of friendship with Harry, narrowly avoiding scrapes and getting out of most situations before they grew too dire, meant that she’d falsely believed that the Aurors would catch whoever had been harassing her. How could she have been so naive? So pompous?

Over and over she asked herself how she could have fallen for this incredibly juvenile trap. It isn’t even well thought out! she mused, growing angrier. Thank Merlin, Draco had given her that sobering potion. All at once, her thoughts changed course. Draco! Oh, he’s probably so worried! And after I was so cross with him at the party. He must be beside himself.

Draco was beside himself. “What the hell do you mean there are protocols to follow, Potter?” he growled, pounding his fists down on the table in front of him. Everyone at the party had been given a large dose of sobering potion and whisked off to the Ministry for questioning. “We know who is responsible! They can stop with the bloody investigation and go after Macmillan!” He paced back and forth across the tiny office that Harry shared with Auror Windermere.

“We don’t know where to find him, Malfoy!” Harry snapped, standing up from his desk where he had been pouring over files in the hopes of finding something new. He pointed at a chair in the corner. “Calm down.”

Draco shot the Gryffindor a venomous look, vitriolic enough to scare Voldemort himself. “Calm down? Are you out of your damned mind, Potter?” he hissed, his voice a terrifying whisper. “The person I care about more than any other is who knows where, and you’re telling me to ‘calm down’? Just because you don’t--”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry threatened, cutting the taller man off, “imply that I don’t care about Hermione. Don’t even think about it. I love Hermione more than you know. I’ve loved her longer than you. She’s my sister-- my only family. Don’t act like I’m not taking this seriously, Malfoy!”

“Listen gents,” Ron called, charging into the office, “What Hermione needs is not for you two to return to your childish arguing. I know you’re both gutted-- and trust me, I am too-- but there’s no point in getting shirty with each other. It’s going to take all of us working together to find her.”

Draco shook his head, dropping his face in his hands. When Weasley is the one making sense, you know things are bad. He groaned. “I’m sorry, Potter. Let’s bring her home, yeah?”

Hermione watched the sun rise through the tiny window across the room. The first gentle signs of morning came, as the blackness of night turned into a beautiful velvety navy. Then the room was bathed in deep red and birds began chirping; singing their praises for another new day.

She briefly thought to wonder if she should pause to take in everything about this day, as it could possibly be her last. Would this be the last time she stopped to listen to a chorus of blackbirds singing their morning songs? The last time she would feel grateful for the joyful rays of light, pouring in through the window and promising another day? The last time she would breathe in the distant smell of morning dew and feel magic pulsing beneath her skin and take stock of all that she was grateful for? She thought to wonder about all of this, but quickly dismissed those thoughts. She knew some might consider her crazy-- and perhaps she was-- but she didn’t have it in her to be scared.

She was Hermione Granger, Muggleborn best friend of The Chosen One and the Brightest Witch of Her Age. She had encountered werewolves and mountain trolls and a basilisk, and lived to tell the tale. She had helped free an Azkaban prisoner, brewed Polyjuice Potion in her second year, and escaped Gringott’s on the back of a Ukrainian Ironbelly. She had put together an army of teenagers under the nose of the Ministry, for Godric’s sake! She wouldn’t cower in fear because a pompous classmate thought that he had bested her.

The truth was, Hermione had long ago resigned herself to the idea that with her friends on her side, she could get out of any scrape. The past year had contained more grief and sorrow than she thought she’d ever be able to bear, and yet she was still standing (albeit shackled to a wall). It was like Ginny always said, “Anything is possible if you’ve got enough nerve.” Harry and Ron had never let her down before. Not when it really mattered, anyway.

And then there was Draco. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her, if he could help it. He was surely kicking himself for allowing things to go this far, but she knew that if there was a way to help her, he would find it. She knew what she meant to him. He’d empty the Malfoy vaults, if that’s what it took. They’d find where she was being held soon enough, he would make sure of that.

Hermione Granger, she reminded herself, was not a damsel in distress. She’d be ready, when they came to find her. Her friends and her love could come barrelling through the door at any moment, but she wouldn’t faff about, waiting for them to free her from her binds. She was a strong, independent witch, who was simply not afraid of Ernie Macmillan.

That realization brought with it another puzzlement, and so while she attempted every nonverbal spell she could think of the wriggle free from her shackles, she also tried to wrap her mind around why Ernie would kidnap and harass her. It truly didn’t make sense. Surely this can’t be because of the Halloween ball? she reasoned, wondering how a sensible bloke like Ernie could turn so batty simply because she’d turned him down for a date. It just doesn’t make any sense… Then, realizing that the first note came the night after the Halloween masquerade, after Ernie had been suspiciously absent from the party, she began to wonder if the idea might have merit afterall.

She was so caught up in consideration, she didn’t hear the muttering of a spell to unlock the door, and when the door opened and light poured in, it took her a moment to take in the face of her captor. Blinking away the spots in her tired eyes, she again turned to the door, gasping when she saw the face of her jailer.

Draco couldn’t understand what was taking so long. Macmillan had disappeared, and the longer they took to go after him, the longer it would take to find Hermione. It had been hours-- four hours and 17 minutes, to be precise-- since he had last laid eyes on her, and every moment that inched by made his gut clench tighter and tighter.

He had an idea. Not a good one, of course, but he’d tried to give the Aurors time to do things their way, and it had gotten him nowhere. He knew it was time to take matters into his own hands, before anything happened to Hermione. He shuddered to think what could have already happened, in the time he’d spent letting the Aurors have their way.

“Potter,” he called, storming into Harry’s office, “We need to talk.”

Harry sighed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Malfoy, I know you’re worried, but the more time you spend distracting me, the longer it will take to find her. I need to keep pouring through these--”

“I know how to find her,” Draco declared, interrupting Harry’s diatribe.

Harry stood up abruptly, shooting his chair back too quickly, which became evident when it tipped over and crashed to the floor. Neither wizard took notice. “What?” Harry demanded.

“It isn’t strictly… erm, legal,” Draco explained under his breath, gesturing to the open door.

The Gryffindor held up a finger, gesturing for Draco to pause for a moment, and then he quickly left the room. He returned in a flash, Ron in tow.

“Okay,” Harry prompted, sitting against the edge of his desk, while Ron took up a chair in the corner.

“Do you remember that necklace I gave Granger for Christmas?” Draco questioned, resuming his pacing from earlier. With the nod from his co-conspirators, he continued, “She never takes it off, you see, at my request.” He sighed, running his hands anxiously through his mane. “Before I gave it to her, I put a trace on it.”

Both Aurors-in-training gasped. “Like that bloody stain on your arm?” Ron sputtered accusatorily.

Draco shook his head. “I didn’t fucking brand her, Weasel-bee,” he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “But, I’ll be honest in saying that He was the inspiration, yeah. It only goes one way, though… I can pull myself to her.”

“Draco, mate… that’s dark magic,” Harry whispered, looking towards his door as if he could see through it and check that no one was eavesdropping.

“I know. Which is why I haven’t mentioned it until now. I knew that the Auror’s office wouldn’t approve… but it’s the only way, and I’m hoping you blokes can see that.” He fell into a chair. “It’s the only way…” He looked down at his hands.

A moment went by, but to Draco it could have been an hour. Then suddenly, he felt Ron clap him on the shoulder. “You do what you have to do, Malfoy. I’m not going to report it.”

He heard Harry sigh loudly across the room. “I hate this, you know. Not only because it’s illegal and could cost Ron and I our jobs, but also because Hermione is going to hate it when she finds out… but dammit, I’d rather have her here to yell at me about letting you dabble in the Dark Arts. I’m in, too.”

“Great, because I’ll need your help,” Draco told them. They both nodded at once. “You two need to figure out a way to pull the Aurors to me. I can’t take anyone with me when I go to her, and there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to let you know where I am.”

“I’m going to send you with my cloak, Malfoy,” Harry chimed in, crossing the room to a locked cabinet. “Take good care of it, as I’ll want it back.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I don’t need your bloody shield cloak, Potter.”

Harry snorted, “Not my shield cloak, you prat. This.” Harry held the shimmery, translucent fabric in front of Draco’s face. For a moment, confusion crossed the visage of the handsome blonde, before understanding set in. Draco couldn’t speak; he was so impressed by the gesture. Instead, he nodded in affirmation.

“We might not be able to come to you right away. Even with some sort of tracking charm on you, we’ll need to go through the proper channels. Especially because this, thing,” explained Ron, with a wild gesture, “that you’re using to find her is so improper. We’ll get there as soon as we can.” Again, Draco nodded his understanding.

“I need to leave at once,” Draco explained, standing up. “How long will it take you to put a track on me?”

Harry stood as well. “We can do it right now. Once you head out, Ron and I will come up with a story to tell the other Aurors, to cover up the trace.”

Draco nodded. Harry made to cross the room, but Draco grabbed his arm. “One last thing, Potter? Weasley?” He paused a moment to make sure he had their attention. Then, “I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her back. I won’t rest until she’s safe. If… if that means something bad for me, could… would… erm, tell my mother? Don’t make Blaise do it.”

Harry nodded, and Draco recognized the firm, understanding set of his jaw. He knew that Harry was a man who had looked certain death in the face in the interest of protecting the ones that he loved. After all these years, he’d found some sort of common ground with Potter. It would be funny if it wasn’t so damn tragic.

Chapter Text

Ch. 33- On Answered Questions

Hermione considered herself a smart woman. She was able to speak at 10 months old and read by age five. At age seven she was reading chapter books, and by 11 she was off to Hogwarts and well on her way to proving herself the Brightest Witch of her Age. She did crossword puzzles in pen and considered putting together a 3,000-piece puzzle to be one of the best uses of a Saturday evening. She’d scored well above average in every IQ test she’d ever taken, and there were a lot of them. Yes, she’d always considered herself to be decently intelligent. How, then, could I have not seen this coming? she thought, blinking the intrusive light out of her tired eyes and angrily sizing up her jailer as he walked through the door.

Draco felt the uncomfortable pull of dark apparition, taking him who-knows-where… he hadn’t felt this terrible sensation since the previous May, when the evil git had died. Apparition, while uncomfortable, didn’t leave you feeling as though your heart hurt and your stomach was filled with acid… but dark magic always worked a bit differently. Draco loathed dark magic, but Hermione was worth everything to him. He had worried he might need a way to find her, and luckily (or perhaps unluckily) no one was better prepared to blindly find someone like a former Death Eater. It had been necessary for Voldemort to equip his followers with a way to find him even when they didn’t know his location, and copying his methods gave Draco an ironclad way to track Hermione in the event of an emergency.

He landed in a regal sitting room, with button-tufted chaises in an elegant shade of cream, and an ornate, golden chandelier overhead. Without Hermione’s consent-- or her blood, really, if he were being honest with himself-- he could only get himself so close to her… but he knew she had to be close. Taking a moment to adjust Potter’s invisibility cloak, he slowly took stock of the room he’d materialized in. It was vaguely familiar, though it was clear the room had recently been redecorated; it didn’t appear as though anyone had ever sat on the sofas and the ornate rug under his feet had certainly never seen foot traffic.

Draco took another minute to take in the room around him. Everything appeared to be brand new… except one thing. He knew those draperies. He’d hidden behind them once playing hide and seek when he was five years old. The thick woven fabric had kept him hidden for what felt like hours, waiting for his playmate to find him. He’d marveled at the shiny, gold design swirling through the ruby curtains; they had been new at the time, and he’d never seen such a lovely fabric before. It was the only time he could ever recall Theo’s lovely mum being cross, as she’d scolded them for playing in her new draperies.

Nott Manor? he thought, Why would MacMillan bring her here?

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, struggling against her restraints. They appeared to be magic-dampening cuffs, as none of her non-verbal spells seemed to be working.

Theo Nott crossed the threshold into her cell. “Come now, Granger”, he drawled, his hands behind his back and his face contorted into a mad imitation of smugness. “Your mind is superior even if your blood is disgusting.”

“You’ve been behind all of this? But you’re Draco’s friend…” Hermione reasoned, trying to work through what was going on as if it were an Arithmancy problem she could solve.

Theo cut her off with a mirthless chuckle. “I am Draco’s friend, and I’m helping him, as he’s clearly lost the plot.” He strolled into the room leisurely, moving towards her with a put-on oiliness to his voice although Hermione could see the venom in his eyes directed at her. “I seem to be the only real friend he has left, as everyone else is content to let him mess about with Mudblood slime, trashing his reputation and besmirching the name ‘wizard’ like a fool.” He spit at her feet.

“Draco is ten times the wizard you’ll ever be, Nott,” she asserted, wriggling imperceptibly in her shackles. If she could distract him long enough, she thought she might be able to squeeze herself out of her binds.

“My my my, and here I thought he was the only one caught up in this stupid love affair. I was beginning to think you might have bewitched him. After all, the Draco I knew never would have fallen in with a dirty slag.” He sneered at her in a way that would have made Lucius proud. “It would seem, though, that you’re just as mistakenly besotted as he is. To think that there’s any place in the wizarding world for your kind, let alone thinking that you might be worthy of sharing a bed with a Pureblood.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She’d been fighting this type of antiquated Pureblood ideology since she was 11 years old. Nott was merely parroting the same filth that she’d heard for years. It was labored and uninspired, truly, and that might have been what annoyed her the most. Something was legitimately bothering her, however. “How did you manage to rope Ernie into your plans?”

Theo gave off a derisive snort and said, “He volunteered, at first. Idiot. I was looking for an ally and I didn’t let him in on the extent of my plans, of course—he thought I simply wanted to break you and Malfoy up. That would have worked out nicely for him, filthy blood traitor that he is, as he wanted you for himself.” He appraised her contemptuously for a moment, and then continued, “He helped me sneak the first note into your rooms and tale you around the castle a few times. When it became clear to him that my aims weren’t just to frighten you into breaking up, he tried to back out. He even pieced together that I was the one behind all the Mudblood murders, though it certainly took him long enough. When he thought he would back out on me and let you know what I was up to, I decided to take a page out of Malfoy’s book and Imperiused him. That’s when the real fun started.” At Hermione’s sharp intake of breath he laughed. “It was quick and easy, Granger. Painless. That McMillan prat is fine. For now, anyway… I expect they’ll be carting him off to Azkaban soon. I’ve modified his memory, you see.”

“So this was all to… break me and Draco up?” she asked skeptically, still slyly wriggling in her shackles so that he wouldn’t see she was working to break free. “That seems a little extreme, Nott, even for a pathetic, wannabe Death Eater.”

She seemed to have hit a nerve. His plain face contorted into ugly fury. “I’m not a wannabe anything, Granger. The Death Eater’s aims were noble, sure, but they took their commands from the Dark Lord. I take commands from no one.”

“That sounds like a great deal of talk, to me,” Hermione goaded. “In fact, it would seem that the Death Eaters didn’t want you. Weren’t you good enough? They took Draco. Is that what this is really about? Are you bitter because Draco is the better wizard?”

Nott raged, pointing his wand at Hermione’s throat with an angry, menacing growl. “You’re a stupid slag. Draco’s daddy earned his way into the Death Eater ranks, and as I’ve already told you, I didn’t have any desire to join the Dark Lord. But comparing us is silly and futile. I’ve known Draco my whole life. He can’t compare to me in any way.”

Hermione was afraid but determined not to let it show. She wouldn’t cower. She wouldn’t shrink. She was resolved to break free—to evade death like Harry had done countless times and get justice for the Muggleborns who had been murdered and for herself. “You aren’t even half the man Draco is, let alone half the wizard he is. Draco would never senselessly kill Muggleborns and terrorize people for sport.”

“Don’t you get it, Granger?” he taunted, unaware that she had just wriggled free of her binds. “This isn’t about sport or Malfoy or even your stupid relationship. All of this is about you. You are the Mudbloods great, white hope. You and your ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age’ moniker have deluded the wizarding world into thinking that Mudbloods can be more than the disgusting, subservient scum that they are born. You are a cancer to wizardkind, Granger, and you must be destroyed so that the world is right once more. Malfoy is an idiot for putting himself in my way, but you… you have always been my target.”

Draco made his way through the dark house toward the dungeons, navigating the well trod halls by memory. He passed a gold framed family portrait from the 1600s, each member clad in richly colored garments and sleeping soundly, unaware that an intruder was quietly and carefully making his way deeper and deeper into the ancestral home under cover of Potter’s magnificent cloak. He’d never seen the Nott dungeons– old families were always so private about these things– but knew where the door was hidden, tucked discreetly behind a crushed velvet armchair at the end of a forgotten hallway.

Standing at the door, he listened; whoever had brought Hermione here would likely have set intruder charms, and he needed to make certain that Hermione was indeed here before sending word to the Aurors. It was no use, as the door seemed to have been Imperturbed. Making haste, he sent off a patronus to Potter and pulled the invisibility cloak off, tucking it in his pocket. There’s no point in trying to sneak attack, Draco thought, assessing the situation, the only way through this door is to get rid of it. After attempting to cast a silencing charm on the door, he called out “Bombarda!” then determinedly watched as the door exploded into thousands of tiny shards.

A loud “boom!” echoed from somewhere up above, announcing itself with an all-consuming thunderousness and reverberating through the walls of the stone dungeons.

“Oh, good!” Theo purred wickedly, turning away from Hermione for the briefest of moments to look towards the door, before turning his attention back to her with an evil smile. “Your rescue party appears to have arrived, Mudblood. I had hoped to take down a few of them along with you and was beginning to wonder what was taking them so long.” He walked closer to her, lifting her face with his wand under her chin. “Who do you suppose it is, then? The halfblood hero, Potter? His gormless, blood traitor sidekick, perhaps? Maybe it will be your darling Draco?” At that he laughed. “I’ve never known Malfoy to go out of his way to help anyone, but perhaps this will be a first. Maybe you’re that special? Although last I heard, you weren’t even putting out.”

The metal door flew open with a deafening“bang!”.

“That’s a very impolite thing to say to a lady,” Draco growled, venom in every word and a murderous look in his eyes.

Theo Nott turned to look at his oldest friend with a look of pure hatred. Hermione took Nott’s momentary distraction to send a wandless, non-verbal shield charm in Draco’s direction, as Nott cried, “Malum laedere!”

“Been taking notes from Dolohov, have you?” Draco fumed from behind his own shield charm, and Hermione instantly recognized the purple flamed curse Nott had aimed at Draco as the same one that gave her the jagged scar that cut across her chest. She inconspicuously inched closer to Draco, convinced that the element of surprise would work in her favor. “Consaucio!” she heard him bellow, sending Nott leaping out of the way of his hex.

“And that’s one from your dear Aunty Bella, I believe?” Nott jeered with a powerful flick of his wrist, sending a nonverbal curse in Draco’s direction.

Hermione watched them weaving around one another with expert precision flinging curses and hexes of the darkest variety, the carefully measured dance of two people who had known each other their whole lives and could predict what the other might do next. She’d seen Harry and Ron duel with that amount of measured skill, though of course, never with the same ferocity, as they’d never actually tried to hurt one another.

Draco sent a powerful Confringo at the ceiling, and Hermione watched as the stone began to crumble into rubble and fall to the ground. Under the cover of the rumbling noise Draco said, “here!” and shoved something shimmery into her hands. It felt like water running through her fingers. Draco put up a shield charm, and then pulled her close. “Put it on and get out of here!”

“I’m not leaving you!” Hermione told him, shaking her head and feeling debris fall from her bushy, untamed mane.

“Hermione, I have a wand. I can protect myself. I’m going to stay here until the Aurors arrive. He can’t get away with this!” He saw tears fill her eyes and when she started to shake her head again he said more forcefully, “Do it, Hermione. Now. Get out of here!” Then, in a hoarse whisper he added, “I love you.”

“Crucio!”

Hermione recognized the hooked wand motion at once. Before the curse was fully out of Nott’s mouth she leapt in front of Draco, without even thinking, taking the torture curse straight to the chest.

White, hot pain coursed through her body in a horribly familiar way; it was as though someone were turning her inside out, setting her blood on fire, liquifying her organs. She felt herself screaming, felt the tears falling from her eyes, without even being aware of what was happening to her. All she knew was pain– terrible, horrible, unending pain– like she hadn’t endured since the awful night on the drawing room floor at Malfoy Manor and she prayed for it to end, prayed that death would come and be her sweet release. Her body fell to the ground with a hard “thud!”, her skull ricocheting off the hard, stone floor with a terrible crack, and her vision went fuzzy.

In an indistinguishable, jumbled rush she heard Draco’s scream of fury and Nott’s thunderous, “Avada Kedavra!” She screamed out, unable to lift her head from the ground to see if Nott’s curse had hit its aim; she was rapidly losing blood, and with it, consciousness. The world was going black.

The last thing she heard was an angry, forceful “Stupefy!” (from Harry? Surely that couldn’t be Harry?) and then her world descended into darkness.

Chapter Text

The first thing she became aware of was the light.

Soft and golden, it filtered through her eyelids in a way that was too gentle… too quiet to be the dungeon she last remembered. The second thing was the smell—sterile, but vaguely floral. Lavender and antiseptic. And then, of course, the pain: dull, but pulsing steadily beneath her ribs and at the back of her skull.

Her eyes fluttered open, heavy and gritty like sandpaper. The ceiling above her was white. No stone. No dust. No danger.

St. Mungo’s.

She was alive.

She blinked again, slower this time, and tilted her head a fraction. A mistake. Pain shot down her spine, and a groan escaped her lips before she could stop it.

At once, there was a blur of movement beside her.

“Hermione?” Draco’s voice cracked like he hadn’t used it in hours. Or perhaps like he’d used it too much. He was leaning forward, his silver eyes rimmed with red, his white blonde hair a mess, his shirt rumpled and stretched out on one side, as though he’d been toying with it incessantly.

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a strained whisper. “You’re here.”

He sighed deeply. “I never left,” he said simply.

Her eyes flicked downward—his hand was wrapped tightly around hers, as if anchoring her to the bed. Or to the world.

“You’re alright now,” he said, though his voice wobbled at the end. “You’re safe.”

She wanted to believe him. But safety felt so far away.

Hermione swallowed thickly, her throat dry with disuse. “Theo?” she rasped. “What… happened after I…?”

Draco went still. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t look at her—just stared at the crisp white linens covering her, his jaw clenched so tightly she thought he might crack one of his perfect teeth.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Granger,” he said, voice low with anguish or possibly frustration, Hermione wasn’t sure. “You shouldn’t have jumped in front of that curse.”

She blinked, confused for half a second before it came rushing back—Theo’s rough voice, the telltale flick of his wand, and then the pain.

“It was meant for me,” Draco said bitterly. His voice cracked, and he finally looked at her. “You threw yourself in the way before I even knew what was happening and I… Merlin, Hermione, I thought I’d lost you.”

Hermione opened her mouth, but Draco shook his head, fast, like he wasn’t ready to hear whatever defense she might give. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch you hit the ground? To see you screaming like that and not be able to stop it? Again?! You were trying to protect me, but I should’ve been the one protecting you.”

His eyes were red-rimmed, haunted, and she realized suddenly that he’d probably barely slept since the fight. The guilt was eating him alive.

“I didn’t think,” she whispered. “There wasn’t time. I just saw the curse and—I couldn’t let him…” She trailed off, but her meaning was plain. 

Draco exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the dungeon. He nodded once, then drew in another breath and steadied his voice.

“Potter, Weasley, and the other Aurors arrived just after you went down. Theo tried to send a killing curse my way, but he missed, and then Potter stunned him before he could cast anything else. They arrested him on the spot.” Draco’s eyes went dark. “He gave testimony and admitted to everything… like he was proud of himself, the arsehole. He’s in Azkaban now—high-security wing. There’s no chance of him ever getting out.”

She let her eyes drift shut for a moment, absorbing that. “And Ernie?”

“He’s alive,” Draco said. “Shaken. Still recovering from having the Imperius curse used on him for so long, but Weasley told me your testimony and the magical signatures on Theo’s wand should clear him. He’ll be alright… eventually.”

There was a long pause, broken only by the beeping of some unseen monitoring charm.

“I just don’t understand,” Hermione murmured. “How could Theo hate me that much?”

Draco looked like he wanted to spare her the answer, but he didn’t lie. “Because you proved everything he didn’t want to believe was true. That blood doesn't make a wizard. That a Muggleborn could be better than him in every way.” 

Hermione turned her head slightly to look at him again, her brow furrowing softly.

“And that someone like me could love you,” Draco added, barely above a whisper.

He wasn’t looking at her anymore. Just at their joined hands—his thumb tracing lazy, absent circles over her knuckles like it grounded him.

Draco finally met her eyes, and for a moment, she could see all the things he wasn’t saying—how terrified he’d been, how much it had cost him to stay strong, how close he’d come to breaking. Hermione’s heart twisted.

“You’re a menace, Granger,” he said thickly, voice cracking despite himself. “And if you ever do something that reckless again, I swear I’ll hex you myself.”

Hermione gave a faint, exhausted smile. “Noted.”

He reached up and gently cupped her cheek, his hand shaking as it brushed her skin. “I think I better go let Potter and Weasley know you’re awake… they’ve been here almost as much as I have the last week. They’ll want to know you’re okay.” 

She nodded, but before releasing his hand, she gave it a soft tug, pulling him closer. Tilting her head, she pressed a quick, tender kiss to his lips, watching as the last of his anxiety seemed to melt away at the familiar touch. 

“After I visit with Harry and Ron… You’ll come back?” she asked, quietly enough that only he heard.

“Always,” he said simply. With a small, reassuring smile, she let go of his hand, her eyes following him as he slipped quietly from the room.

Draco stepped out into the corridor, letting the door to Hermione’s room click gently shut behind him.

He leaned back against the cool stone wall of the hospital hallway and took a breath for the first time in what felt like hours. She was awake. She was talking. She’d smiled. The tight, relentless coil in his chest had finally loosened.

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced down the corridor where two very familiar figures sat slouched on a bench, both looking like they’d aged ten years in the last few days.

Ron was tapping his foot impatiently, legs spread wide, arms crossed tight. Harry sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, absently spinning his wand between his fingers. Both of them jerked their heads up when they heard footsteps.

Draco slowed as he reached them, his usual sardonic expression softened into something quieter.

“She’s awake,” he said, and he wasn’t prepared for the way both their faces transformed at once, relief crashing through exhaustion like a dam breaking.

“Really?” Harry asked, already on his feet. “Is she—?”

“She’s talking. She remembers everything.” Draco gave a small nod. “She’s asking questions. Already worrying about everyone else, naturally.”

Ron scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a shaky laugh. “Bloody hell.”

“I figured you’d want to see her.” Draco hesitated just a beat, then added, “I’ll give you lot some time.”

Harry gave him a searching look. Curious, maybe even a little surprised, but then nodded once. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

Draco only tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment and stepped aside.

As the two of them moved toward the door, Ron stopped, turning to grab Draco’s shoulder. 

“You did good,” Ron said. 

Draco gave a short nod, and watched as Ron followed Harry into the room.

Draco lingered in the hallway, just out of sight, listening as Hermione’s soft voice greeted them and Ron immediately said something stupid, as usual, while Harry chuckled that warm, familiar laugh.

He let himself smile, just a little. She was going to be alright. 

And for now, that was enough.

Harry stepped in first, looking slightly more rumpled than usual, followed closely by Ron, whose expression shifted from concern to barely concealed relief the moment he saw Hermione awake.

“Oi,” Ron said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “You look terrible.”

Hermione let out a weak laugh, which quickly turned into a cough. “Nice to see you too.”

Ron dropped into the armchair Draco had just vacated without ceremony, while Harry hovered on the other side of the bed, looking like he wasn’t sure whether to hug her or cast a diagnostic spell.

“I’m alright,” Hermione said, mostly because it looked like they needed to hear it more than she needed to say it. “Really.”

“You weren’t,” Ron muttered, voice tight. “You were… Merlin, Hermione, we saw you. You were just lying there and there was so much blood and Malfoy looked like he was going to lose it and—”

“Ron,” Harry said gently.

Hermione turned toward him as he reached for her hand, his grip warm and steady.

“He didn’t leave your side,” Harry told her, squeezing her fingers as if to ground himself in her presence.

“I know,” she said softly. “He told me. And you… you both came for me. Just like I knew you would.”

Harry let out a shaky breath. “We couldn’t have done it without him, though. We wasted so much time… so much time. And then in comes Malfoy with a plan, jumping into action, putting us both to shame. We’ve always protected each other. I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you, Hermione.”

She saw the tears pooling in his green eyes, even as he blinked them back with a quick sniff.

Hermione squeezed his hand, then held it between both of hers. “You’ve been protecting me all year. For eight years, really, if we’re being honest. Because that’s what we do. We protect each other.”

She let go of one of Harry’s hands and reached out to Ron, who immediately took it.

“Do you know that even when I was chained up, without a wand, with no idea where I was… I wasn’t all that scared?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “You weren’t scared?”

Hermione looked at them—her boys, her family—and smiled through the sting in her eyes.

“I mean, of course I was scared. But even when it got bad, I knew you’d find me. I knew you’d come.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Ron blinked rapidly, and Harry rubbed a hand across his mouth.

“Not to be dramatic,” Ron said finally, voice thick, “but I think I might cry.”

“I think you’re allowed,” Hermione said, her own voice wobbling.

“We love you, you know,” Harry said simply.

Hermione nodded, her eyes shimmering. “I love you too. Both of you. So much.”

And then they just sat with her—no grand speeches, no big declarations. Just the three of them, together again.

Her boys. One on either side, holding space in the quiet, sterile room filled with golden light.

And for the first time in a long time, Hermione felt whole again.

The entrance hall was quiet, most students still at supper, and for a moment, the echo of her boots on the floor was the only sound. She paused, hand brushing the familiar banister, her gaze sliding across the high ceilings and flickering torches.

“HERMIONE!”

She barely had time to register what was happening before Ginny collided with her, arms wrapped so tightly around her that Hermione thought she might pass out again… but in the best, most welcome way.

“You’re back,” Ginny said, her voice cracking as she pulled away just enough to look at her face. “You’re really back.” There were tears in her big, warm eyes and relief painted all of her features.

Hermione nodded, smiling even as tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m back.”

Ginny looked her over like she might still be dreaming. “Merlin, you scared the hell out of us.”

“I scared myself,” Hermione admitted with a small laugh.

“Come on. Let’s go to your common room. You can sit in your favorite chair and I’ll catch you up on what you’ve missed here… we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

Hermione nodded and followed Ginny, her thoughts drifting to Draco. He had visited her at St. Mungo’s every evening without fail, but once she’d regained consciousness, the Headmistress had insisted he return to the castle and his classes. He’d wanted to argue, of course, but Hermione had put her foot down—she refused to let him miss another lesson on her account. Knowing she’d be discharged today, she’d asked him not to come to the hospital, promising they’d see each other back at Hogwarts. Finally.

The door to the Heads’ common room creaked open, and Hermione stepped inside, Ginny just behind her. The familiar scent of old books and Draco’s Earl Grey tea greeted her like an old friend. The fire crackled softly in the grate, casting a warm glow over the armchairs and scattered study materials left exactly as she’d last seen them, before the world had turned upside down.

It felt like coming home.

Ginny crossed the room quickly, dropping onto the oversized sofa near the hearth. “Sit,” she said, patting the cushion beside her. “Just so you know, I’ve already threatened half the Gryffindor table and bribed a burly sixth-year to keep everyone from bothering you.”

Hermione laughed—a real one this time—and curled up beside her, tucking her feet underneath her. “You didn’t have to threaten anyone.”

“Oh, I absolutely did,” Ginny said with a grin. “I’ve had to suffer through days of people whispering about you like you were some doomed heroine in a tragic love story. I thought I was going to hex a Hufflepuff by Wednesday.”

Hermione chuckled, leaning her head against Ginny’s shoulder. “Thanks for not letting the dramatics get out of hand.”

Ginny snorted. “Please. You’re dating Malfoy and got kidnapped by a deranged baby Death Eater. The dramatics were built in.”

They both laughed, and then the quiet settled around them like a weighted blanket. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just soft. Easy.

“So,” Ginny said eventually, her voice quieter, “how are you? Really?”

Hermione considered lying. Or at least skimming the truth. But she was too tired, and this was Ginny.

“I’m… tired,” she admitted. “Sore. Everything feels loud and bright and strange, like the world got knocked off-kilter while I was gone.”

Ginny nodded slowly, not speaking right away. She just reached for Hermione’s hand and held it in both of hers.

“But,” Hermione added after a moment, “this is the first time in days that I’ve felt like myself again. Like I’m not just… surviving. I think I needed this. Just us. Just here.”

Ginny smiled. “You and me, sneaking biscuits and talking about how useless boys are?”

“I don’t think I could manage a proper biscuit just yet,” Hermione said, wincing playfully. “But I could go for the talking.”

They sat in companionable silence, the fire dancing before them, and for a little while, the horrors of the past few weeks melted into the background. Ginny asked about St. Mungo’s, and Hermione told her about the disgusting healing potions and the kindly Mediwitch who sang Celestina Warbeck songs under her breath. They talked about exams and Quidditch and how many owls Luna had sent to the hospital (“Six. In one day. With some strange sort of flower petals. No explanation.”).

Hermione stretched out with her head in Ginny’s lap, Ginny plaiting absent-minded strands of her hair.

“This,” Hermione murmured drowsily, “feels normal.”

Ginny looked down at her and smiled. “Good. That’s the plan.”

They heard the clock strike nine, and then the portrait hole door opened. 

“What are you doing here, Red?” came a familiar voice, amused and unmistakably Draco.

Hermione sat up at once, her heart skipping, eyes finding his the moment he stepped through the doorway. He must have been doing rounds , she thought, taking in the crisp pleat of his collar, the perfect coif of his hair, and the dark circles under his eyes, marring his otherwise perfect, porcelain skin.

Ginny stood smoothly, shifting her robes back into place with a wink. “Just keeping her company until the brooding boyfriend showed up,” she said breezily. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “That’s very considerate of you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Ginny shot back, patting Hermione’s shoulder. “You need anything, you come get me.”

“I will,” Hermione said softly.

Ginny slipped out, the portrait hole swinging shut behind her with a muffled thud. Silence stretched for a moment.

Draco crossed the room slowly, stopping in front of her. “You’re back,” he said quietly, like he still didn’t quite believe it.

“I’m back,” she confirmed, standing to meet him.

They stared at each other, both unsure for a second. And then Hermione surged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, pressing her face to his chest. He didn’t hesitate. His arms came around her instantly, holding her as if anchoring them both.

“I missed this.” She leaned back just enough to look up at him. “I missed you.”

Draco exhaled slowly, resting his forehead against hers. “I wasn’t sure what would happen when we got here. I kept thinking… maybe you’d change your mind. Maybe you’d decide all this—me… my world—it’s too much after everything.”

Hermione cupped his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to hers, even as she playfully rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. This whole year, with everything that has happened… You were the only thing that felt safe through all of it.”

He gave a broken little laugh and leaned down, brushing a kiss against her temple, then her cheek, then finally her lips—soft and slow and full of everything neither of them had the words to say.

When they finally parted, Hermione sighed and rested her head against his chest once more. “Can we stay here for a while?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Draco said, settling on the sofa and pulling Hermione down on top of him.

So they stayed like that, wrapped in each other, as the fire popped gently in the grate and the castle outside settled into quiet. Hermione felt Draco’s heart beating beneath her cheek—steady, strong—and realized how much she'd missed this. Safe. Grounded. Home.

Eventually, she spoke again, voice soft against his chest. “I thought about this. About you. When I was locked in that dungeon, and then again this last week in the hospital… all I’ve thought about is this.”

Draco’s arms tightened around her instinctively, his lips pressing into her hair. “I thought about you every second,” he said. “When we were trying to figure out a way to get you back… you weren’t there, but it felt like you were. I could hear your voice in my head. Telling me not to be stupid. Telling me not to fight with Potter. Telling me to focus.”

Hermione smiled against his chest. “You listened to the voice in your head?”

He gave a quiet laugh. “I tried.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at him again. “You know, I still haven’t asked… How did you save me? No one will tell me how it happened… I’m still a little confused by the whole thing.”

Draco’s hand stilled.

Hermione could feel it immediately; the tension that coiled beneath his skin, the way his body went a little too still, his breath caught somewhere between guilt and hesitation.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Try me,” she said, voice careful.

He sighed, then sat up a bit, disentangling himself from her. “The necklace,” he said finally, his eyes still fixed on the floor. “The one I gave you for Christmas. My constellation.”

Hermione blinked. “What about it?”

“There’s a trace on it,” he admitted.

Hermione sat up straighter, her brow furrowing. “A trace? That’s… that’s not a basic Tracking Charm. That’s advanced. That’s—” Her words cut off as realization bloomed across her face. “It’s Dark magic.”

Draco winced. “Not the worst kind,” he said quickly. “But yes. Technically. It works a bit like a Dark Mark, to be honest. I can pull myself to you… things were already going wrong, and I couldn’t think what else to do.” He ran his hand through his hair, ruining his expert coif. “If you ever went missing, or something happened… I wanted to be able to find you.”

Hermione’s mouth opened, then closed again. “You used that… on me?”

He finally looked at her then, and she was startled by what she saw—no smugness, no self-satisfaction. Just fear. Regret. And something raw that made her chest ache.

“I needed to know you’d be safe,” he said quietly. “And I knew you wouldn’t agree to something like that, so I didn’t ask. I just… did it.”

Hermione’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. “That’s not okay, Draco.”

“I know,” he said immediately. “I know. I violated your trust, and I hate that I did. But I would do it again. If it meant finding you when I did… if it meant getting to you before he killed you… I would do it again.”

She looked away, unsure what to say. Her instincts warred within her; one part of her reeling at the violation, another part understanding his need to take care of her, because she felt desperate to protect him, too.

“It saved my life,” she whispered finally.

Draco nodded once, slowly. “I should’ve trusted you enough to talk to you about it first. I didn’t… because I was scared. Because I love you.”

The words hung between them, soft and terrible.

Hermione looked back at him. “So you used magic I’d never consent to?”

“Yes,” he said, no excuses. 

She searched his face, her own expression unreadable. “I’d like to continue wearing the necklace… remove the trace? Please.”

Draco hesitated for half a second, then gave a sharp nod. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wand, and with a murmured Finite Tracem , the magic tether broke. The tiny, exquisite diamonds sparkled on her chest, but now they were just diamonds. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, softly.

Hermione held his gaze for a long moment. Then, quietly, she reached for his hand.

“I need you to promise me something,” she said. “No more secrets. No more decisions about my safety without me.”

“I promise,” he said, voice tight. “No more secrets.”

She nodded, and without her saying anything, he knew that they would never speak of it again. They curled into one another without thinking, as they had done countless times before. He rubbed his thumb in slow circles over the small of her back, the motion soothing and intimate.

“I keep seeing it,” he admitted after a long stretch of silence. “The way you leapt in front of that curse. The way you screamed.” His voice broke. “It was like Malfoy Manor all over again, except worse, because this time it was me you were saving.”

Hermione leaned into him, brushing her nose gently against his neck. “I’d do it again.”

Draco turned his face to hers, disbelief and awe flickering in his eyes. “Why?”

“For the same reason you did what you did… Because I love you,” she said simply. “Because there’s nothing in this world that means more to me than knowing you’re safe.”

Draco leaned in and kissed her—slow, deep, reverent. A kiss that didn’t demand or question, but promised. When they finally parted, they rested their foreheads together, breathing the same breath.

They shifted, settling into the cushions. Hermione lay curled against his chest, and Draco summoned a blanket, throwing it over them. His hand found hers again beneath the blanket, and their fingers laced together instinctively.

Neither of them said another word.

The fire crackled low, casting soft shadows across the room as the castle slept soundly.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, so did they.

Chapter Text

The weeks that followed were some of the busiest Hermione could remember… and that was saying something. Despite a kidnapping, an attack, and a weeklong hospital stay, she still had to contend with N.E.W.Ts. Professor McGonagall had stressed it wasn’t necessary and recommended that she take it easy following her release from St. Mungo’s, but Hermione had insisted that two weeks was plenty of time to get her head on straight. “After all,” she’d argued countless times to numerous individuals, “what did I come back here for, if not to take my N.E.W.Ts?” 

In addition to the aggressive exam study schedule she’d made for herself, rigorous course load, and Head Student duties, she also kept busy secretly working on a plan for Draco’s birthday. His 19th birthday would be the Saturday following the end of exams, and she hoped to return the favor from the thoughtful surprise party he’d thrown for her before they’d technically been a couple. Her birthday felt like ages ago, and yet she remembered that incredible night so vividly. It had been one of the first major displays of Draco’s serious intentions toward her, and she hoped to make a similar impression.  

The end of term also brought a new anxiety-inducing dilemma: a potential proposal. It seemed to be all anyone could think about, as Ginny, Pansy, Daphne, and even Blaise had nonchalantly brought up the topic, apparently gauging her reaction. Hermione hadn’t even thought to consider the idea until Ginny brought it up. 

“What do you mean you hadn’t thought about a proposal, Hermione?” the redhead had asked on a Sunday afternoon, having spent the day studying with the Head Girl. Hermione had taken to revising through mealtimes, and so Ginny and Draco began accompanying her on her trips to the library to remind her to take a break and feed herself. 

Hermione sighed. “I mean, of course I’ve thought about marrying Draco someday… but not any time soon! We’re so young, Gin- why in Merlin’s name would we want to get married now?”

Ginny smirked. “You might not have considered it, but I can guarantee Draco has.”

At that, Hermione paled. “You think?”

Ginny nodded. “A proposal before leaving Hogwarts is fairly standard in his circles. I would be shocked if he doesn’t already have some obscenely expensive heirloom pulled from the Malfoy vaults, all polished and ready to go.”

“What am I gonna do, Ginny?” Hermione lamented, laying her head on her arms, folded on top of the school books in front of her. “I love him. I want to be with him… but I can’t say ‘yes’ to a proposal. He’ll be crushed…”

Ginny reached out a hand and rested it on Hermione’s forearm. “You’ll just have to be honest, ‘Mione. He loves you. He’ll understand.”

Adrenaline carried Hermione through exam week. She’d brewed an impressive Everlasting Elixir, demonstrated her command of human transfiguration and mastery of nonverbal magic, and her use of the Undetectable Extension Charm on her school bag earned her an enthusiastic round of applause from the examiners (she had the year on the run to thank for that!). She’d written five rolls of parchment on the seven metals and Classical planets in Western alchemy, pulled out all the stops when explaining her fifth year mastery of the Protean Charm, and translated a lengthy runic passage without even referencing a syllabary. She’d sweat and slaved, and she hadn’t slept more than three hours a night… but finally it was Friday afternoon, and she crossed the final ‘t’ on her Arithmancy written exam, signalling the end of her N.E.W.Ts. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and then returned to her common room to go over the plans for the following night one more time.   

Winding through the halls of her beloved castle, Hermione couldn’t help but reflect on all the life lived here. She left the Great Hall and made a left, passing the first floor girls’ bathroom where Harry and Ron had rescued her from a mountain troll. So much has changed since then, she thought to herself. She passed the History of Magic classroom, where Professor Binns had taught them all about the Chamber of Secrets, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, a room she hadn’t entered all year, though a year on the run had taught her enough about Defense to last a lifetime. 

Suddenly overcome by emotion, she stopped in front of a window, peering out at the Herbology greenhouses and vegetable patch. When would she get to take in these mundane sights again? Would this be the last time she thought to pause and feel the smooth stone walls? To hear the distant buzz of students murmuring and feel the thrum of palpable magic in the air? Such luxuries that she’d so often taken for granted, and soon they would be gone. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of wet moss and woodsmoke, and something wistful she couldn’t quite put her finger on… something woodsy and comforting that always reminded her of Hogwarts. How many more breaths did she have with this familiar smell filling her nose and making her feel at peace? 

Soon she’d leave this haven. She wasn’t afraid of the real world… she was even excited to be beginning the rest of her life. But there was something so comforting about the stone walls and musty carpets and Highland air that just calmed her soul. This is where I became myself, she thought. It’s where I made friends and learned to protect them. It’s where I tested my limits and had the rug pulled out beneath me. It’s where I fell in love. 

Hogwarts, she mused, wiping a lone tear and smiling to herself, will always be home.  

Hermione woke on Saturday morning with Draco wrapped tightly around her middle. The midmorning sun pouring in through her window told her that they’d slept in later than they intended, but she wasn’t fussed. She hadn’t had a full night's sleep in over a week, and when she didn’t sleep, Draco didn’t either.

She shifted slightly, just enough to reach for her wand on the bedside table, murmuring a quiet Tempus. The golden numbers hovered in the air: 10:42. She sighed and let her arm fall back across the sheets. Draco stirred behind her, grumbling something unintelligible into her shoulder.

“What was that?” she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Too early,” he mumbled, tightening his hold around her waist. “Stay.”

She let out a soft laugh, nestling back against him. “It’s nearly eleven.”

“Still early,” he argued, voice raspy and laced with sleep. He nuzzled into the curve of her neck, his breath warm and lazy on her skin. “Birthday boy wants cuddles.”

She turned slightly to look at him, brushing the mess of blond hair out of his eyes. “Birthday boy is clingy.”

“Birthday boy is in love,” he corrected, cracking one eye open to look at her. “And warm. And comfortable. And wants you to stay exactly where you are.”

She leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I have plans, you know. Surprises. Presents.”

He hummed, a slow smile spreading across his face as he rolled onto his back and pulled her with him, so she was draped over his chest. “I already have everything I want.”

“You are disgustingly sappy,” she teased, resting her chin on his sternum.

He grinned up at the ceiling. “I’m older now, Granger. Wiser. More sentimental.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled all the same, letting her fingers trace idle patterns over his bare chest. “Well, how does it feel? Turning nineteen?”

“Exactly the same as turning eighteen,” he said, coiling one of her curls around his finger. “Exactly the same, and maybe a little better. Because you’re here.”

Hermione softened. She kissed his chest once, just over his heart. “Happy birthday, Draco.”

He closed his eyes again, arms wrapping around her like he never wanted to let go. “Best one yet.”

Hermione finally coaxed Draco out of bed an hour and a half later, though he put up a valiant effort to stay exactly where he was. He would have been content to spend his entire birthday in the warm and welcoming cradle of her thighs—but eventually, hunger won out.

“You’ve shagged me within an inch of my life, Granger! I’m wasting away,” he’d mumbled dramatically as he stretched, then let his head fall back against her pillow with a groan. “Do you want that on your conscience?” She’d merely rolled her eyes and thrown him a clean pair of trousers. 

And so, fingers laced and hair still slightly mussed from their lovemaking, they wandered slowly into the Great Hall for lunch, Draco still blinking against the light like a vampire emerging from his crypt. The enchanted ceiling was a perfect blue with soft clouds drifting lazily overhead, and the tables buzzed with the low hum of midday chatter and clinking cutlery. It was one of those rare Hogwarts days where everything felt peaceful and suspended in golden light—something she’d once thought impossible after the war.

Hermione slid in next to Draco at the Slytherin table, and felt his hand automatically go to her knee. She filled his plate with fried sausages and roast potatoes, listening as Ginny and Blaise tried to tempt him to go flying after lunch. 

“We haven’t tossed the quaffle around in ages, Malfoy! C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Ginny argued, giving an enticing eyebrow wiggle and a little shoulder shimmy. 

“It’s my birthday, Red!” Draco said, shaking his head and filling Hermione’s goblet with pumpkin juice. “I want to spend it with my girl. We can fly tomorrow.”

“You’ve changed,” Blaise said, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “You used to be fun.”

“I used to be miserable,” Draco replied dryly, smirking as he popped a carrot into his mouth.

“Don’t pretend you're not still a little miserable,” Blaise shot back with a grin. “Granger is lovely and wonderful, to be certain, but you can have fun outside the bedroom, for Godric’s sake.”

“Blaise,” Hermione said with a warning glance, though she was fighting a smile.

He winked at her. “No offense, of course, love.”

Hermione rested her hand on Draco’s arm. She needed him to take the bait and go flying with their friends so that she could get ready for his surprise. “I think you should go,” she told him. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Et tu, Granger?”

“You love flying,” she reasoned, her hand lingering on his arm. “And you haven’t been on your broomstick in weeks. Go have fun with Ginny and Blaise. Work up a sweat. Be smug about it.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she pressed on, adopting a thoughtful look, as if the idea had only just struck her. “And then… oh, I know! Since Theo’s capture and Professor McGonagall lifting my ban on leaving the castle, I haven’t been out at all. Let’s go into Hogsmeade tonight for dinner to celebrate. Just the two of us.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her with the suspicion of someone who had been raised by Slytherins and trusted nothing that came wrapped in innocence and good intentions. “Dinner, huh?”

She nodded innocently, sipping from her goblet. “Mm-hmm. Around seven?”

He tilted his head. “You’ve been scheming.”

She placed a hand on her chest, mock-offended. “I never scheme.”

“Liar,” he said affectionately, leaning in to steal a kiss before finally relenting. “All right. But if I sprain anything, you’re massaging it later.”

Hermione grinned. “Deal.”

“Even if it’s my ego.”

“Especially if it’s your ego.”

The clock on the mantle in the Heads’ common room chimed half-past six, and Hermione stood in front of the mirror adjusting the strap of her pale, pink sundress for the seventh time. She told herself it wasn’t nerves, just eagerness—a desire to make the night perfect—as she made her way out from her bedroom and into the common room.

Draco strolled in from his bedroom, freshly showered and looking devastatingly handsome in a crisp white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark trousers and expensive leather loafers. He somehow looked effortlessly stylish, and still perfectly suited for a mild June evening in the Highlands. 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw her. “Merlin, Granger,” he said, voice low and appreciative. “If this is how gorgeous you look for a casual birthday dinner, I’m terrified to see what you’ll look like on our wedding day.”

His casual mention of marriage made a flicker of nerves ripple through her chest, though she tried to keep her smile steady. Everyone has been so obsessed with proposals lately… she thought to herself. Ginny had said Draco was probably thinking about it—is this confirmation that she was right? She quickly tried to school her features and force a calm smile as she carefully tucked the thought away for later. “Flattery will get you everywhere, love.”

He crossed the room and dipped his head to press a kiss just below her ear. “I know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but breathed in his clean scent, heart flipping even as she pretended to be exasperated. “Ready to go?”

“Lead the way,” he said, offering his arm like the gentleman he was. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, trying not to grin too widely as they stepped into the corridor.

The halls of Hogwarts were bathed in evening light, casting long shadows along the worn stone floors. Students milled about, heading back from dinner, their conversations echoing off the ancient walls. The moment felt surreal and caught in-between school and real life… like living nostalgia. A pause in time.

They took the long way down to Hogsmeade, passing the greenhouses and walking the ridge where the lake shimmered in the twilight. Draco asked idle questions about her exams, which she skillfully deflected, willing herself not to think about that, lest her anxious mind spiral.

By the time they reached the edge of Hogsmeade, her pulse had quickened, and she casually guided them toward the Hog’s Head.

“The Hog’s Head? I thought you wanted to try that new place… The Whispering Wand, or whatever it was called,” Draco questioned, brow furrowed.

“I changed my mind,” she replied smoothly, nudging him gently toward the crooked pub. “It’s quieter at the Hog’s Head. More… private.”

Draco arched a perfect brow. “And you don’t have anything up your sleeve?”

“Nothing at all,” she said, wide-eyed, the very picture of innocence.

He chuckled and pulled open the creaky door, stepping aside to let her go in first—completely unaware of what was waiting inside.

He heard a cacophonous chorus of, “Surprise!” and felt someone press a drink into his hand. Hermione stood back, surveying the scene.

The Hog’s Head was dim and cozy, its low ceilings and crooked beams glowing warmly under flickering candlelight. The scent of spiced ale and pipe smoke mingled with the excited hum of celebration and laughter, turning the usually grim pub into a refuge of warmth and friendship.

Around the room, a small crowd had gathered; familiar faces and unexpected ones alike. Ginny stood by the hearth, her smile as radiant as ever, alongside Angelina and Cho. Blaise, Harry, and George leaned casually against the bar, all three raising a glass in a silent toast. Aberforth, looking only mildly put-upon, kept the drinks flowing from behind the bar. Pansy and Daphne were there, chatting with Luna, whose serene smile contrasted with the excited sparkle in everyone’s eyes. He saw Molly and Arthur sitting with Andromeda, a clapping Teddy perched on her lap. Bill stood in the corner chatting with Neville and Ron, holding the hand of his very pregnant wife. Even Professor McGonagall had managed a rare, approving smile, standing a little apart but unmistakably proud.

Draco’s gaze swept over the room. Disbelief flickered into awe, then something deeper; gratitude, maybe, or wonder. This… this was his circle now. Not the isolation he’d expected when the year began, but a tapestry woven from friendship, trust, and shared laughter.

He felt Hermione slip her small hand in his, and he turned to her, his smile soft and vulnerable. “I never thought I’d have this… family. Not like this, anyway.”

Hermione squeezed his fingers. “Your mother sends her love, but unfortunately house arrest doesn’t lift for birthday parties… ask Kingsley, I tried.” At that he chuckled, envisioning the fierce glint in her eye as she challenged ministry members in the name of Narcissa Malfoy. 

She leaned up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Now then, don’t linger any longer with me! Go enjoy your party and your guests, birthday boy… I get to take you home tonight.” 

“The best present I’ll get to unwrap,” he told her with a wink, and she blushed, watching as he set off to take Teddy off of Andromeda’s hands.

As the evening stretched on, stories were shared, laughter echoed, and memories made. Draco chanced a glance at Hermione, gratitude shining bright in his eyes. This was more than a birthday. It was a celebration of who he’d become—and what their life was together.

Several hours of merriment later, Hermione realized the guest of honor was nowhere to be found. Peeking out the back door of the pub, she saw him bathed in moonlight, enjoying a quiet moment in the shadow of a large birch tree. 

“Hey there, birthday boy,” he heard, and without even looking he knew Hermione had a soft smile on her face. “What are you doing out here all alone? That party in there is for you.”

He felt her small arms wrap around him. He brought his hands up to cover hers, where they rested on his stomach. “I came out here to think.”

“Oh?” she asked. “About what?”

“You, mostly,” he replied, turning in her arms to face her, and wrapping his arms around her in turn. “Us. The school year is almost over, Granger. We’ll be in the real world soon.”

She smiled up at him, and tipped up on her toes to place a sweet kiss on his lips. “Yes, we will. Are you nervous?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s just… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Hermione…” he began, but she cut him off. 

“Don’t.” 

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t propose. Not now,” she implored, pulling away from him. 

“Granger…”

“No, Draco, listen. I’ve thought about this a lot. And I know how excited you are to start our future together,” she continued, not stopping for a breath. 

“Granger.”

“And trust me, I want that, too. But not right now. We’re so young! We haven’t even been together a year. And sure, we’ve been through more than most couples in that short period of time, but I want us to date like normal people, outside of school…” 

“Granger!”

“And I love you so much. Don’t make me say no. I don’t want to disappoint you. Especially on your birthday. Because I love you more than I can say and I don’t want this to be how we remember our proposal, so…”

“Hermione!” he called, which finally seemed to slow her ranting.

“Yes?”

“I wasn’t going to propose,” he told her with an amused smirk. 

“Oh… you weren’t?” she asked a bit sheepishly

“No, you silly cow. I agree-- it’s much too soon. We’ll both be certain the answer is ‘yes’ when I do propose. And make no mistake, that’s when , not if ,” he explained, smiling genuinely now. Hermione loved his smiles, so infrequent in the mix of smug smirks he usually sported. 

“Well then,” she answered, letting herself be pulled back into his embrace, “what were you going to ask me?”

He took a deep breath. “I built that manor for you, Hermione. Over the Christmas holiday you filled it with laughter and fun and love… I can’t imagine living there without you, even temporarily. So when we leave here… move in with me?”

Her heart felt like it was glowing, fit to burst with love for this adorable, incredible, brilliant man in front of her. She pulled him down to her lips for a long, lingering, passionate kiss. She hoped to convey everything in that kiss-- promises for the night, for the remainder of the school year, and for the rest of their lives. She couldn’t imagine kissing any other lips for as long as she lived. Breaking away she smiled up at him.

“So… yes or no?” he asked, jokingly. 

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you prat,” she told him as he let out a loud ‘whoop!’ and scooped her into his arms, carrying her back into the Hog’s Head with their friends and family.  

The last week of term brought with it an unusual heatwave. All the professors cast cooling charms over their classrooms, and the house elves took to serving crisp salads and heaping plates of chilled fruits at every meal. Exams were behind them and the scent of old parchment and dust gave way to the feel of sun-warmed grass beneath bare feet and the distant buzz of bees drifting in through open windows. Hermione chuckled when she found a group of second year Hufflepuffs attempting to learn a charm to make their textbooks pack themselves. Students lounged beneath the shade of the beech trees by the lake, transfiguring pebbles into skipping stones. 

Hermione found herself lingering in places she used to rush past—the quiet alcove on the third floor where she’d once hidden to study, the corridor where the remains of the Weasley twins’ portable swamp endured, and the worn armchair near the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room that still held a faint scorch mark from one of Seamus’s mishaps. She found she wasn’t the only one lingering a bit longer in quiet moments. There was a strange peace in it all, like the castle was giving them space to say goodbye.

On the last full day, the halls were filled with the sounds of laughter and scraping trunks. Someone enchanted the suits of armor to perform the Hogwarts school song when students walked by, and no one had the heart to silence them. A group of Ravenclaws set up a makeshift photo booth in the Entrance Hall, snapping enchanted pictures of anyone who passed, and a few third-years raced broomsticks through the corridors with barely a scolding from the usually uptight Head Girl. Even Filch seemed less grumpy than usual, only grumbling half-heartedly as students darted past with unfastened robes and undone ties. 

That evening, the end-of-term feast was held in the Great Hall, transformed for the occasion. The enchanted ceiling glowed with soft, gold candlelight, like the last rays of a summer sunset. Wisps of lavender clouds drifted overhead, catching hints of rose and amber as if the sky itself didn’t want the day to end. The long tables gleamed with polished goblets and gleaming platters, already heaped with chilled summer dishes—roast chicken with lemon and dill, crisp garden salads, fresh berries steeped in honey, and loaves of bread still warm from the ovens. 

Banners in Hufflepuff yellow hung proudly from the rafters, draped in soft arcs above the tables, their badger crest gleaming with new embroidery to mark the occasion. It was the first time in twenty years they’d won the House Cup, and their table buzzed with excitement and disbelief. Professor Sprout beamed so brightly she looked close to tears, and even the Fat Friar floated a few inches higher than usual, humming along to the soft music playing from the charmed harps near the staff table.

Students passed platters back and forth, toasting each other with pumpkin juice and butterbeer, laughing louder than usual, talking faster; as if they could hold off goodbye by filling every corner of the hall with sound. Bits of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs occasionally popped in the rafters, sending glittering stars and miniature hippogriffs dancing overhead. For once, there were no House divides, no whispers of the past… just a shared sense of something ending and something else just beginning.

Professor McGonagall rose from her seat at the staff table, and the room gradually fell into a respectful hush. Her sharp green eyes scanned the students, lingering just a moment longer on Hermione before she began.

“Tonight, as we gather to celebrate not only the end of another school year but the remarkable resilience and growth of every one of you, I am reminded of the power that lies within knowledge, courage, and friendship. These halls have witnessed your triumphs and your struggles, your moments of doubt and your moments of brilliance. You have faced darkness—both within and beyond these walls—and you have emerged stronger, wiser, and kinder for it.

“To our graduating class of seventh and eighth years: the world beyond Hogwarts awaits you, and it will not always be kind or easy. But I have every confidence that you will meet it with the same determination and grace you have shown here. Remember, the true magic does not lie solely in spells or potions, but in the choices you make, the compassion you show, and the courage you carry in your hearts.

“Carry Hogwarts with you, not just in memory, but in spirit. Wherever your paths lead, may you always find your way back to the light.”

Her voice softened as she looked directly at Hermione, who felt a sudden warmth spread through her chest; part pride, part hope, and part the bittersweet ache of goodbye.

As dessert plates vanished and the ceiling dimmed to a star-speckled indigo, Professor McGonagall dismissed them, and students began trickling out of the Great Hall in clusters. Hermione stayed in her seat a little longer, her eyes still on the staff table where McGonagall had retaken her seat. She felt full… not just from the feast, but from something deeper, something harder to name.

Eventually, she slipped out of the hall and made her way back through the quieting corridors, the laughter and footsteps growing fainter behind her. When she reached Helga’s portrait that concealed the entrance to the Heads’ common room, the door swung open before she could speak the password, and Draco tumbled out. 

“Oh good! There you are,” he beamed, a smile spreading across his face. “Our common room isn’t ours tonight, I’m afraid,” he explained with an eye roll, gesturing for her to enter. 

A small party was already in full swing. Someone—probably Ginny—had managed to sneak in armfuls of snacks from the kitchens: cauldron cakes, treacle tarts, a suspiciously large vat of butterbeer, and an entire wheel of cheese that no one seemed to know what to do with. The wireless had been charmed to blast The Weird Sisters’ greatest hits, but with a thudding bassline that definitely wasn’t part of the original recordings.

The usually tidy sitting area had been transformed into a chaotic sprawl of cushions and overturned books, Draco and Hermione’s packed trunks pushed into a corner. Paper crowns—probably made by Luna—had appeared on nearly everyone’s heads, and someone had conjured glittering lights to drift lazily through the air like magical fireflies. A game of Exploding Snap had taken over the coffee table, and the last explosion had singed the fringe on the rug.

It was loud, messy, and completely unregulated. And Hermione couldn’t help but grin as she stepped inside.

Blaise was perched on the arm of a couch, sleeves rolled up, arguing with Terry Boot over the rules of a drinking game involving Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and truth-or-dare. Luna was braiding Padma’s hair with bits of enchanted ribbon that kept changing color, and Dean was sketching the scene on a scrap of parchment with exaggerated flair. Neville and Hannah were sitting in a corner with their noses touching, whispering back and forth and lost in a world of their own, while Seamus and Susan Bones seemed to be loudly debating the specifics of a famous Quidditch match. And then there was Draco, at her side, dropping a kiss to her cheek before joining Blaise and Terry’s game; they’d recruited the Slytherin girls and Lisa Turpin for what promised to be a raucous game. Hermione rolled her eyes, but followed him to the circle all the same, determined to enjoy her last night of being young and stupid.

The early morning sun crept in through the tall windows, casting long beams of light across the common room floor and illuminating the quiet wreckage of the night before. Someone had fallen asleep draped over a pile of cushions in the corner, snoring softly beneath a crumpled Hufflepuff banner. A half-eaten treacle tart balanced precariously on a stack of textbooks. The wireless had finally gone silent, but a faint sparkle of confetti still drifted down from the ceiling, catching the sunlight like dust motes.

Hermione sat curled up on the edge of the sofa, her knees pulled to her chest, a warm cup of tea balanced between her hands. She hadn’t really slept. The party had ebbed and flowed until the early hours, but eventually the laughter had faded, and the students had either wandered off to their dormitories or collapsed wherever they’d been sitting. Now, in the soft hush of morning, the castle felt like it was holding its breath.

It was over.

Today, they would leave Hogwarts; not just for the summer, but for good. There would be no timetable waiting in the fall, no classes to prepare for, no castle to return to. Just trunks, goodbyes, and the weight of whatever came next.

She glanced around the room, taking it all in: the mess, the memories, the faint lingering hum of alcohol and magic in the air. For the first time in years, she didn’t feel like the eager girl who had arrived on the Hogwarts Express with over-sharpened quills and a heart full of nerves.

She had changed. They all had.

Hermione stood quietly, setting her empty teacup on the windowsill as sunlight stretched across the floor. She moved carefully through the sleeping remnants of the night before, stepping over a forgotten shoe and straightening a toppled lamp out of habit. The room, once filled with raucous laughter and thudding music, now held a softness she wasn’t quite ready to disturb.

She was halfway to the portrait hole when she felt a familiar presence behind her.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Draco’s voice was low, still rough with sleep, but warm.

Hermione turned to find him already dressed, hair perfectly tousled, tie looped effortlessly around his neck. He was handsome as ever, but his eyes seemed to reflect some of the bittersweet melancholy that she was certain could be found in her own.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, then offered his hand. “One last walk?”

They moved through the corridors slowly and quietly, their gentle footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The castle was nearly silent, but not empty. Portraits watched them go, some offering sleepy waves, others quietly nodding as if acknowledging the weight of the moment for the Head students– they’d seen thousands of other students make this same final goodbye. The suits of armor stood at ease now, no longer bursting into song, and the candles floating in the sconces flickered gently in the morning light.

Neither of them spoke much. They didn’t need to.

They knew that they would soon need to meet the rest of the graduates by the Black Lake, but first they both felt the need to say a proper goodbye to their common room. 

It was empty now. The party had long since ended, and the mess had vanished—either by spell or by elf. The room had settled back into itself, calm and quiet, as if it were holding its breath. A few crooked cushions remained piled in the corner. The fire had long since gone out, leaving only the faint scent of woodsmoke clinging to the stone.

Hermione crossed the threshold slowly, her hand brushing the edge of the sofa as she passed. “It’s strange,” she murmured. “How much happened here. How much it… meant.”

Draco wandered to the center of the room, looking around like he was seeing it all for the first time, even though it would be the last. “This is where I conjured my first Patronus,” he said softly. “It came out so feebly, but you still looked at me like I’d just performed a miracle.”

She smiled faintly. “It felt like you had.”

His gaze flicked to her, standing beside the sofa. “That spot is where you told me you loved me.”

Hermione walked to him, reaching for his hand. “Where we said a lot of things,” she said, her voice warm with memory.

They stood in silence for a moment, holding hands and letting the weight of it settle around them—the late nights and early mornings, the arguments and apologies, the tentative beginnings of something neither of them had expected. The laughter, the vulnerability, the magic made between just the two of them.

He squeezed her hand. “We became us here.”

Hermione glanced around once more, her eyes filling with tears as they lingered on the kitchen where she’d made them countless breakfasts, the cozy window seat where she liked to read, the coffee table where she’d played drinking games with friends.

She took a breath. “Ready?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Together, they made their way onto the grounds, where a crowd was beginning to gather near the Black Lake. The boats bobbed quietly in the shallows, just as they had all those years ago, waiting.

They reached the grassy shoreline and Hermione turned around. The castle loomed in her view, warm light pouring around its imposing structure against the clear blue of the afternoon sky. Hermione stood there for a moment, watching the turrets rise above the trees. She’d seen this sight hundreds of times, but this time, it felt different. More fragile. More precious.

Professor McGonagall stood a few paces ahead of the crowd, her tartan cloak fluttering faintly behind her. When the last few stragglers joined, she raised her voice—not loud, but clear enough to still the soft murmur of conversation.

“There is an old tradition at Hogwarts,” she began, her gaze sweeping across the gathered students. She paused, and for a moment the only sound was the water lapping gently against the rocks. “Just as you arrived here on your very first night—wide-eyed, uncertain, and full of possibility—you will leave the same way: across the Black Lake, by boat.”

Hermione felt something catch in her throat.

McGonagall continued, her tone softening. “It is meant as a reminder that every ending is also a beginning. That the courage it took to step into the unknown then is still with you now. You are not the same children who came to us. You are wiser. Stronger. And I hope, no matter where life takes you next, that you will always carry a piece of this place with you.”

She let the silence settle around them like a spell.

“Your boats await.”

Slowly they piled into the small boats, until only Hermione and Draco stood on the shore. The lake shimmered under the sun, a glassy stretch of gold and blue that seemed to stretch forever. Hermione glanced at Draco, her heart full in a way she couldn’t quite name. He didn’t speak, but offered his hand, and she took it.

They stepped into the last boat together, the wood rocking gently beneath their feet before settling into stillness. As soon as they were seated, the boat began to move, gliding soundlessly out onto the water, following the path the others had taken.

Neither of them spoke at first. The silence between them was easy, reverent. Around them, the world felt suspended in time; the towering outline of the castle shrinking behind them, sunlight dancing across the ripples like magic. Somewhere nearby, the low croak of a frog echoed from the reeds, and an owl hooted lazily from the forest’s edge.

“I remember being terrified the first time I crossed this lake,” Hermione said quietly, watching the castle grow smaller in the distance. “I had no idea what I was walking into.”

Draco looked over at her, his hand still resting lightly against hers. “And now?”

She smiled. “Still terrified,” she answered, and he chuckled. “But now I know who I am. What I’m capable of.”

He brought her hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. The boat drifted on, steady and sure, carrying them forward, until they reached Hogsmeade station on the other side. They watched as their fellow students boarded the scarlet train, and Draco felt her slip her small hand in his. 

“We have to board this train one last time… and then? Where do you want to go?” she asked, looking up at him.

He smiled down at her. “With you? First, I’d like to go to the manor, and spend a week locked in our bedroom.” He gave her a lascivious wink and she rolled her eyes, chuckling at him good-naturedly. He sighed. “Then? I figured we’d go to the Burrow, and to Harry’s flat… maybe your parents house, eventually?” Slowly she nodded, so he continued, “And you? Where do you want to go?” 

She smiled up at him. “With you?,” she asked, and at his nod, she continued, “Everywhere.”

Chapter Text

October 2005

Draco sat behind his impressive mahogany desk, sorting through files. He'd begun work at Malfoy Industries immediately after graduation, learning the ropes for a year before taking the reins completely on his 20th birthday.

He looked over at the picture in the pine frame sitting at the corner of his desk- his first dance with Hermione as man and wife. He watched as Picture-Hermione threw her head back and laughed at something Picture-Draco had just whispered in her ear. She had looked radiant that day, but he thought she only got more beautiful every day he knew her. It would be their one year anniversary in a week, and Draco couldn't wait to celebrate. A loud knock on his office door roused Draco from pleasant thoughts of his anniversary plans, and he straightened up in his chair before calling, "come in!"

"Mr. Malfoy," said Draco's secretary, a wisp of a witch with blue-gray hair piled into a bouffant on top of her head. "Your new Head of Legal is here."

"Yes, thank you, Donna- you may send her in."

Draco looked up to see his lovely wife walk through his door. She looked positively alluring in her tight, muggle pencil skirt and modest white blouse.

"Mr. Malfoy," she greeted him in a professional tone, standing on the opposite side of his desk and waiting to be invited to sit.

He smirked. "Mr. Malfoy? I quite like that," he told her with a wink, lasciviously eyeing her up and down.

"I sincerely hope that's not how you greet all your new hires," Hermione drawled, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

"Of course not, dear. Just the good looking ones," he explained in a no nonsense voice.

"Draco Malfoy!" she scolded, and he laughed.

"Only joking, love," he explained, pushing his chair back from his desk and getting up to walk around the desk to where Hermione stood. He wrapped his arms around her waist, but she promptly removed them and took a step back.

"That's hardly professional, Draco. We're at work," she scolded, but he rolled his eyes.

"It's my company," he drawled, and moved towards her again, but she took another step back.

"That's all the more reason to behave yourself! You should set a good example," she explained with a smug smile.

Draco pouted. "You're…well… what's the opposite of sexual harassment?"

Hermione laughed. "Behaving like a decent and proper human being?"

"Yes. That. That's what you're doing and I don't like it one bit. Now you come over here and let me debauch you on my desk." He leaned against his desk and patted the spot next to him for an added effect.

Hermione shook her head at him. "Draco, I really hope you didn't hire me for the express purpose of breaking all the company rules about sexual harassment."

He waved his hand flippantly in the air and crossed his desk to sit in his executive chair. "Of course not. I hired you because you're the best. I've been trying to convince you to come work here since we left Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake!"

She smiled at him and sat in the chair across from his desk. "Just checking."

He rolled his eyes, but smiled at her all the same. "Shall I read you our sexual harassment policy, then? Just so you know how much I'm actually allowed to get away with at work?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I'm not interested in the sexual harassment policy, Draco. I am, however, interested in another policy…"

Getting up to cross to a bookshelf on the other side of the room he said, "You'll be getting a copy of all of them later today, of course, at your official orientation, but I suppose I can sate some of your curiosity now." He pulled a binder off of his shelf. "Which policy do you need information about?"

"The one on maternity leave." She stared at her husband, desperately waiting to see his reaction to her statement.

He began flipping through the binder, when suddenly, her words seemed to sink in. He looked up at her, wide eyed. "Maternity leave?" he asked in a stupified voice. She nodded and he dropped the binder in his hands, not even noticing the thunk noise it made as it fell to the floor. "You think you might be needing that, then?"

She nodded again, with a small smile. "In about 7 months, or so."

Draco crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of Hermione's chair. "You're pregnant?"

She nodded rapidly, tears filling her eyes. Draco grabbed her face and gave her a passionate, breathtaking kiss. Breaking the kiss, he let out a loud "whoop!" and a happy laugh. "I'm gonna be someone's father!" he exclaimed, and kissed his wife again.

Hermione thought her heart might explode. She'd been keeping the secret for three days now, and while she had enjoyed having the knowledge all to herself for a little while, it felt good to finally share it with the only person who she thought might be more excited than she was to receive the news. Draco was made to be a father, she thought, smiling at her husband, who had only seemed to get more handsome in his delight. He was pressing kisses to her shirt clad stomach now, and she felt her heart swell with emotion.

"You probably can't hear me just yet, but I'm your father," he said, speaking directly into her abdomen, his hands on her hips. "I can't even begin to tell you how loved you are. I promise to be the best father you could ever want. We'll have snowball fights and eat ice cream and play Quidditch-"

"Draco, you will not be playing quidditch with our child," Hermione interrupted, looking down at him.

"Of course I will, love. That's what fathers do, while mothers stay on the ground and lecture about what a bad idea it is. Now hush, if you don't mind- I'm having a talk with the little one." She rolled her eyes, and he continued, "And if you're a boy, we'll talk about the proper way to treat ladies… or blokes. I suppose you might like blokes, yeah? That would be okay, too. And if you're a girl… well, if you're my little girl no one is allowed to touch you until you're 30, bird or bloke."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Draco, you're being ridiculous."

"I most certainly am not!" he declared, feigning indignance. Then, looking up to smile at his wife, he said in his most mystified voice, "Hermione, we made a baby."

She nodded. "We did."

"I love you so much, Granger. I didn't think it was possible to love you more than I did when I woke up this morning, but I was wrong."

She laughed. "I love you, too. More than I can say." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, before standing. "Now then, Mr. Malfoy, what's the policy about taking new employees to lunch on their first day?"

He stood, towering over her and resting his hands on her hips again. "I don't know about Malfoy Industries policy on taking new employees to lunch, but there's a very strict Draco Malfoy policy about taking pregnant wives to lunch."

"Oh?" she asked, smirking at him. "And what is that?"

"What the pregnant woman wants, the pregnant woman gets!" he told her, lacing their fingers together and leading her to the door.

September 2017

"Mum, tell Dad to quit dragging behind, or I'll miss the train!"

Hermione watched as her oldest son made his way up to the barrier at Platform 9. He waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet, for her to catch up, before pushing through the barrier and briefly out of her site. She grabbed the hands of her other two sons, waiting for a mustachioed muggle to look the other way, before she pulled them through the barrier with her. Leo had found Blaise and Ginny, and was standing with their son, Marco, excitedly waiting to board the Hogwarts Express.

Leo was their oldest; born on May 2nd, he came exactly on his due date, and Draco had laughed at how perfectly punctual his son's birth had been. Their friends and family marveled that the Granger-Malfoy baby was born on the anniversary of the end of the war- a perfect symbol for the unity they'd experienced since then. Hermione had known, from the second she laid eyes on him, that she held a little Gryffindor in her arms. Though he looked like his father, with his pale skin, lean stature, and beautiful silver eyes, his white-blonde hair stuck out wildly, with curls in every direction. He proudly referred to it as his "lion's mane", and rolled his eyes when Draco told him to comb it back. Leo was Hermione's baby- she hadn't known it was possible to love a person so much until her handsome boy came along, and though she loved her children equally and differently, Leo was a self-proclaimed "mumma's boy" and the two were quite close.

Their next son, Lynx, came two years later, a day after Draco's 28th birthday. He'd told Hermione that it was the best birthday present he'd ever received. Lynx was the perfect blend of his parents; Hermione's chestnut hair, button nose, and wit, Draco's fair complexion, dimpled cheeks, and snark. He frequently found himself in trouble, creating get-rich-quick schemes and tricking his siblings into carrying them out. Hermione knew that the Sorting Hat wouldn't hesitate a second before sending Lynx to Slytherin, but he still had two years before she'd be able to cash in on that bet.

Lepus, the third Malfoy son, was a surprise, and came just ten months after Lynx. Hermione remembered laughing that day in St Mungos when the Healer had told them that boy number three was healthy and very much on his way. She had told a dumbfounded Draco that she was on track to giving him an entire Quidditch team, and he had slowly cracked a wide smile, before peppering kisses all over her face. Lepus inherited Narcissa's lovely blue eyes, Draco's strong jawline, and Hermione's freckles, but Teddy Lupin insisted that everything about his personality, Lepus had learned from him. Lepus and Lynx were incredibly close, seemingly speaking in a language that no one else understood. It often made Molly tear up, as they reminded her of Fred and George. Lepus would likely be a Hufflepuff, just like his beloved cousin Teddy, though time would tell as he had proven to be quite cunning from time to time, a trait that his Uncle Blaise heartily encouraged, much to the dismay of his mother.

Little Lyra was their last child, and only daughter. Though she had inherited her father's sleek blonde hair and ice colored eyes, in features she was her beautiful mother's miniature; Draco insisted that's how she had managed to wrap him so firmly around her finger. The two were inseparable- Hermione loved coming home from the Ministry to find Draco playing princesses, wrapped in a pink apron and pearls, sipping imaginary tea or holding dollies. Hermione had always joked that she was hoping to send a Granger-Malfoy to each Hogwarts house, but knew that her little Lyra was bound for Slytherin. To Draco's dismay, none of his boys had taken to flying, and so Lyra was his only hope of a Malfoy crushing a Potter on the Quidditch pitch. He'd tie her long, blonde hair back in emerald green ribbons and take her zooming around their backyard on his broom, relishing in her delighted, little squeals. At six, she was years away from her own Hogwarts days, but Hermione knew that Draco was dreading it nonetheless.

"I don't know why he's in such a hurry," Draco huffed as he came through the barrier, brushing invisible lint from his trousers with one hand, holding Lyra to him with his other arm. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, and her head resting on his shoulder- nap time was soon, and Hermione knew that if they didn't get her down soon she'd be a terror later. Draco smoothed his hand down her silky, blonde hair and distractedly placed a kiss on her temple.

"He's just excited," Hermione chastised, letting go of her other sons' hands, and watching as they ran to meet Ron and Luna's boys. At eight and nine they felt a bit too old to hold their mum's hand, though she had insisted through the crowded train station until they reached the magical platform. "Leo, please come back here a moment, love!" Hermione called over to their son, who had just finished loading his trunk with Teddy, who had come to see Victoire off.

Her fair haired boy ran back to her side, and Hermione felt a wave of sadness rush over her. This is it. He's not my little boy any more. She smiled down at him and brushed the crazy curls out of his eyes. At 11, he was almost as tall as she was, and she knew he'd be as tall as his father by the time he left Hogwarts. He smiled at her, leaning up to peck her on the cheek. She could feel tears running down her cheeks, and watched as her son goodnaturedly rolled his eyes at her.

"Don't cry, Mum," he told her, "I'll see you in a few months for the holidays!" Draco ruffled his son's already wild hair, giving him a roguish wink and a smile, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"Draco! Please don't put ideas in his head," Hermione lectured, nudging her husband out of the way and straightening her son's collar. Draco barked out a laugh as Blaise and Ginny came over to join them.

"Ready to go then, Leo?" Ginny asked, smiling down at him. Marco had entered Hogwarts the year before, so Ginny thought herself a pro at this point, and had been giving advice to Hermione, Draco, Ron, and Luna, who were sending their children off to school for the first time this year. While her son excitedly detailed his first year plans to his Aunt Ginny, Hermione spotted Ron and Luna's red haired twins across the platform, hugging their mum goodbye. Harry and Daphne were standing with them, accompanied by their own son who would be old enough to board the train in a year, and their daughter, who would attend school with Lepus. She waved over at them, before turning back to her own family when the train whistled.

"That's the train, Mum- I'd better go!" Leo explained, excitedly bouncing up and down. She smiled at him, bending down to kiss the top of his wild curls and grabbing his cheeks in her hands.

"We'll write, okay? Be safe, mind your manners, and tell Professor Longbottom we say 'hello'!" she kissed the tip of his nose and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "I love you, my little lion."

"Granger love, quit embarrassing him," Draco groaned, bending to give his son a one armed hug, attempting not to jostle his daughter too much. He smiled down at his son, patting him on the shoulder. "Have fun! We'll see you at Christmas." The two watched as Leo gave a friendly nod to each of his brothers and reached up to place a kiss on Lyra's cheek.

"Love you all! Bye!" Leo called, racing to the train with Marco.

Draco pulled Hermione into his side, leaning down to kiss the top of her head as she wrapped her arm around his waist. He breathed in her familiar smell, still a comfort to him after all those years, and squeezed her hip reassuringly. They watched, alongside all of their friends, as the train chugged and steamed, before it finally pulled away.

October 2029

Draco looked around at all the people who had gathered in his ballroom to help celebrate his 25th wedding anniversary. Ron and Luna were sitting in the corner, giggling about something, and Ginny and Blaise were, as always, the first couple on the dance floor. Daphne was explaining something emphatically to Leo's wife, Charlotte, a tall, curvy brunette with olive colored skin and a mischievous smile. George had Marco, Leo, and Lynx laughing about something that Draco just knew Hermione wouldn't approve of. All around, Draco could see people he loved and people who loved him. Or at least, people who tolerated him for the sake of his beautiful wife.

He looked over at her and smiled, taking her hand in his. At fifty, he still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the room. Her beautiful, chocolate curls were pinned back into a twist and the faint wrinkles around her eyes were reminders of all the laughter they had shared in the last 30 years. They were seated at the table of honor at the front of the room, on display for the whole of the party. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back, relishing the blush that dusted her cheeks. After all this time, he loved that he could still make her blush. He hoped to be able to do that for the rest of their lives.

Draco heard a tinkling noise, and looked over to see Harry standing, clinking his knife lightly on the side of his glass. "Excuse me, everyone- I'd like to make a toast to the couple of the hour. You two were the most unlikely pair. I mean, how often is it that a reformed Death Eater and the Minister of Magic find themselves married for twenty five years?" He paused, giving time for the crowd's chuckling to die down. "But anyone who knows you two knows how much love there is between you. For nearly thirty years I've had the pleasure of watching you grow and learn together. You've built a beautiful family, a successful company, a political empire," he winked at Hermione, who blushed, "and a full and loving life together. I couldn't be happier to call you my friends. To Draco and Hermione!" He took a sip of his champagne, as a crowd of "Draco and Hermione!" rang throughout the hall. A throat cleared.

"While we've got everyone we love here in the same room," Lepus called over the crowd, taking the hand of Lily Potter, "Lil and I have an announcement." He smiled over at her, and Draco knew what they were going to say, even before they opened their mouths. He would be inextricably tied to Potter for the rest of his life.

"We're getting married!" the two announced gleefully, embracing as the crowd of family and friends cheered. Draco and Hermione made their way over to the happy, young couple.

"Congratulations, you two!" Hermione called, pulling her son and future daughter-in-law into a tight hug, tears leaking from her misty eyes. Daphne suddenly joined them, and soon the four were embraced in a weepy group hug that had Lepus looking distinctly uncomfortable. Draco chuckled at his son's expense.

"Well," he heard Harry say, as the dark haired man came up behind him, resting a hand on Draco's shoulder, "it appears that we're going to be in-laws, mate."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I married the Gryffindor Princess… I suppose I should have expected that one of my children would end up with a Potter or a Weasley."

"Maybe not just one…" Harry confided with a chuckle, gesturing to the corner where Lyra was being chatted up by Lorenzo Zabini.

Lorenzo was Ginny and Blaise's youngest, too handsome for his own good, and at twenty, two years older than Draco's baby girl. He made to march over to their corner, but felt Hermione's hand on his arm.

"Don't you dare," she lectured, turning him to face her, as Harry embraced the newly engaged couple behind them. "Lyra is eighteen. An adult. She's perfectly capable of making her own decisions about who she wants to talk to."

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "But he isn't just going to talk to her, love. He's a Zabini. I remember what Blaise was like, which would be disheartening on it's own, but his children have a bit of Red in them as well. No one is going to be immune to their charms. Lyra has no idea what that boy's intentions are! I have to protect her."

Hermione chuckled. "Draco, I love you, but you can be as obtuse as Ron sometimes." Her husband glared at her for the jibe, but she continued. "That boy is positively infatuated with Lyra. She holds all the power in the… whatever it is that they have going on. He might be a Zabini… but don't forget that she's a Malfoy." She winked at him.

Draco looked over and saw Lorenzo puffing up like a peacock, only for Lyra to roll her eyes and walk away. Draco studied the disappointment in the young Zabini's face, that quickly morphed into a determined glare as he followed Draco's daughter around the party like a helpless puppy. She's right, Draco thought to himself, looking over at his smug wife. Why is she always right?

Later that evening, after the party guests had left, only Leo's little family remained. Draco looked over to see Leo was holding his newborn son while Charlotte chatted with Hermione in hushed tones. That left Ara, his lovely granddaughter, unaccounted for.

"Papa?" he heard, and looked down to see a tiny brunette pulling on his pant leg with her little, sticky hand. He smiled widely and reached down to lift her into his arms.

"Well hello there," he greeted her, and she moved her sticky hands to his cheeks. He took in her bright, silver eyes- his eyes- and Hermione's freckle dusted button nose, and smiled at the chocolate cake that coated her little mouth. "Would you like to go for a walk with me?" he asked her, and she excitedly nodded her agreement.

Draco made eye contact with his son across the hall, and gestured with his head that he was taking his granddaughter out of the ballroom. He smiled proudly as Leo nodded in acknowledgement and turned his attention back to the sleeping boy in his arms.

"Where are we going, Papa?" Ara asked in her high pitched, little girl voice. At three years old she was as inquisitive and bossy as her lovely grandmother, and kept her parents quite busy. Draco never tired of her questions, and prayed that the rest of his grandchildren loved spending time with him as much as Ara did.

"I thought we could go out into the gardens," he explained, pushing open the large, glass doors. Ara clapped her hands excitedly, before wrapping her arms around Draco's neck and reaching up to place a sloppy kiss on his chin.

Draco carried her around the gardens, pointing out different flowers and explaining why they were important to his mother, who had insisted upon keeping the Manor's gardens looking impeccable while she lived there, and in whose honor Draco kept them looking impeccable since she had moved to France years before. He carried his little love out into the grounds, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, transfiguring it into a blanket. He set Ara down, and then laid down beside her, taking her chubby, little hand in his.

"See that," Draco explained to her, pointing up at the stars, and telling her the story of Andromeda. Ara was an attentive audience, gasping and awwing at all the right points of his explanation. He moved onto Cassiopeia, Hercules, and Leo.

"Leo!" Ara exclaimed, clapping her little hands excitedly. "Like Daddy!"

He smiled over at her, his smart, little granddaughter. "That's right, just like your Daddy. In my family, we name all the babies after the stars. See, there's Lynx and Lepus, just like your uncles," he gestured, knowing full well she couldn't make out what he was pointing out to her. It was important to him to share it with her, all the same. "And that's Ara, right there," he explained, "that's you!" She giggled, and he reached over to tickle her stomach. After a moment, he continued, "And that one there is Lyra, just like your Auntie Lyra. And near Lyra… that one there is Draco. Just like Papa."

"Draco?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes. He's a dragon." She gasped and looked over at him in wide eyed wonder.

"Tell me about the dragon, Papa!" she beseeched. He smiled down at her.

"Well, there's all sorts of stories about why there's a dragon in the sky. My favorite, though, is about a beautiful princess, named Hermione." Ara's little eyes crinkled in delight with her wide, happy smile. "You see, the princess taught the dragon to be more than a monster. She helped him so he wouldn't be so scary. And slowly, he transformed into a prince." Ara gave a little cheer.

"A handsome prince?" she asked.

He smiled. "Oh yes. A very handsome prince. The most handsome prince you can imagine, as a matter of fact."

"And they lived happily ever after, Papa?" she asked, before sticking her little thumb into her mouth, curling over on her side as sleep began to take her.

He sighed. "Yes, my love. They lived happily ever after. Together, they rewrote the stars."