Chapter Text
I.
He had always held a fascination for the witch, ever since she’d slapped him in their third year. He watched her silently, unwilling to approach her, as her hand shot up in every class and she answered every question perfectly.
There were too many complications to ever approach her in the way he wanted. Too much bad blood.
And Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew there was about to be a war and sides would have to be chosen -- his already chosen for him. Therefore, she was nothing more than a fantasy for him, forever out of reach.
But Draco watched as she cried pitiful tears after he had spent the night watching her dance with Viktor Krum, looking lovelier than usual, tugging at his heartstrings more than usual, and all of sudden he was furious -- furious that Ronald fucking Weasley had made her cry and that she’d actually let him.
Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the Muggle deathsticks that Zabini had smuggled in but before he could stop himself, he -- “Why do you let the Weasel get you down?”
Oh, he had watched that, too, wondering what it was, exactly, that the Weasel contributed to the Golden Trio.
She turned to face him, the moonlight glinting off the tear stains on her face. “Go away, Malfoy,” Granger sniffled as she flushed.
He ignored her, instead taking a seat beside her, uninvited, and allowed the alcohol to speak for him.
It would just be for the night.
“You looked beautiful tonight.”
Granger laughed at that. It sounded empty. “No mocking insults tonight? You’re losing your touch.”
He turned toward her and stared.
“You’re drunk,” she snorted. “Of course.”
Before he understood what he was doing, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers softly, indulging himself for this one moment.
“You really shouldn’t let him get to you like this, Granger,” he sighed out quietly. “You’re much too smart for a Weasel like him.”
Not allowing himself to indulge any further, he quickly left, letting the moment ingrain itself in his memory forever.
It wasn’t enough. If anything, what had just happened made him want more. More of her.
Perhaps he’d squeeze the weasel’s throat for her.
II.
He was patrolling for the Inquisitorial Squad when she bumped into him.
“Watch where you’re going, you filthy Mudblood,” he spat in irritation. Joining the Inquisitorial Squad seemed like a good idea at the time before he realized that Umbridge was nothing more than a loon and had him and every other member of the stupid squad wandering the halls to catch people for her stupid rules. He was, quite frankly, over it.
“You have no room to be calling people names when you’re just an inbred imbecile who’s apparently blind,” she snarled back, her hands clenched into fists.
His body flushed as he marched up to her, angered by her comments. Even if they were partly true. “What did you call me?”
“Are you deaf as well? Or are you afraid that I’m right, Malfoy?” She whispered tauntingly.
Draco ground his teeth as he stared at her, unsure if he wanted to reach out and kiss her infuriatingly plump lips or push her away from him.
“What is it?” She asked, interrupting his train of that. She tilted her head to the side. “Finding yourself attracted to a Mudblood?”
He smirked at that. Again, she wasn’t wrong, and he found nothing wrong in being attracted to a member of the opposite sex. Especially one as fit as her. “A warm body is a warm body, Granger.”
Her face pinched together at his comment, and Draco inched closer to her. “You’re crass,” she hissed as he backed her against the wall and placed his forearms around her head.
He sighed, wishing that in another life, he could be pursuing her like any other teenager, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.
Fuck it, he thought.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he informed her matter-of-factly, before pressing his lips against hers firmly.
Granger tasted like honey and pumpkin juice, and he never wanted to stop kissing her. He pressed her body even closer to his own and she squirmed before she pushed him away. She dragged the back of her hand across her mouth as he regained his balance, pulling her wand on him.
He shouldn’t find her as beautiful as he did in her anger. “You are vile. ”
Draco should also have been offended, but he remembered that Granger had kissed him back and grinned. “It took you a good minute to push me away there.”
He walked away before she could respond, a bounce in his step from what just happened.
III.
Draco was back at his habit of watching her, and he had watched as she studied in the library. She had a habit of chewing on her bottom lip when she was solving a problem.
It was cute.
He cursed when he realized that she saw him, packing up her things quickly. He got up and made his way over to her.
“What’s got you in a hurry, Granger? Can’t be slipping off to some meeting, are you? Breaking rules?”
She pushed past him. “I’m heading back to my dorms, you ferret.”
He ignored the insult and grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. “Where is it? On the seventh floor?”
If he could figure out where Potter was meeting with everyone else, Umbridge would stop being such an incessant pest in his life. On the entire Inquisitorial Squad’s lives.
Draco was caught off guard when, instead of answering, Granger snogged him. He made a startled noise, not expecting her to do, well, this, before he moved his arms to her waist, pulling her closer to him to deepen the kiss.
She still tasted of honey and pumpkin juice, and again, he wanted the kiss to never stop. If anything, he wanted this for the rest of his life. Granger pulled away to catch her breath, and he watched as she gave him a smirk of her own before disappearing from the library.
He kept pulling her into closets and dark hallways after that, chasing the high that she never failed to give him, tasting the honey and pumpkin juice on her lips.
Neither one of them mentioned what was going on.
Neither one of them wanted to either, it seemed.
IV.
Draco was terrified.
He knew that war was coming but he didn’t realize --
Merlin, he was stupid.
He came home after his fifth year to find a monster occupying it. He resisted at first until the Dark Lord threatened to let Dolohov and Greyback at his mother. Then he took the Mark and was tasked with the impossible mission of killing one of the greatest wizards to ever live.
Draco felt like he would have a mental breakdown any second, waking up each day filled with dread. He would be damned if he accomplished his mission and damned if he didn’t.
He started off the year avoiding her, fleeing like the coward that he was whenever he saw her. The war shouldn’t touch her yet. She deserved these last few months of peace before all hell broke loose.
But he collapsed under the weight of his task one day and allowed himself a moment to let it all out before he returned to his task. Someone touched him and before he could stop himself, he had them pinned between him and the sink, his wand ready to kill.
Warm brown eyes stared at him with concern and he instantly relaxed. It was just her.
“What do you want, Granger?” He spat at her, but it sounded so weak, even to his own ears.
“What’s wrong, Draco?” She whispered.
“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little mind about,” he snapped, noting as she shivered when he pulled away. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her into his arms.
He stared, taking her all in. He refused to watch her this year and the sight of her was like a breath of fresh air. She took a step toward him and cupped his face gently. He instantly leaned into her. It was the kindest human contact he had for a long time.
“Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not okay.” Confessing to her was so easy and he felt some of the weight leave his shoulders. “Everything’s gone to hell, Hermione, and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
She stepped even closer to him, fitting her body to his. His fingers twitched and he resisted the urge to touch her.
He didn’t want to touch her with that filthy mark on his arm.
“Let me help you then,” she said softly, her eyes filled with so much care for him that he wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and stay in this moment with her for the rest of his life.
Again, he shook his head and squeezed his eyes instead. “No one can help me. I have to do it all by myself or he’ll kill me.”
“Who will kill you?”
Shame filled him suddenly as he clenched his fists. “You-know-who, Hermione.”
He heard a small gasp escape her and felt his body trembling from all the fear that he had been trying to keep secret. Then the taste of honey and pumpkin juice as Hermione pressed her lips against his. He reacted quickly, holding her tightly against him and pulling her up.
“Draco, I can help you --”
He interrupted her. “Please,” he begged, not quite sure what it was that he was asking of her.
She responded by kissing him again, and before he even knew what was going on, he was losing himself in her, her body, and in the comfort that she was providing him.
Hermione was the first kind touch that Draco had felt in so long, and he needed her to know how much he adored her for that, if not with his words, then through his actions.
Draco fell asleep that night curled around her, sleeping more peacefully than he had in months.
V.
“What is this?” She asked suddenly.
Draco stared at her, watching the kind, brown eyes that regarded him almost daily now as she either read while he laid in her lap or when those eyes would become exasperated when he told her that her theories didn’t make sense.
He continued staring, thinking of what this was precisely. He wasn’t quite sure himself but he answered anyway. “This is ours, no one else’s. We can make this whatever we want it to be.”
That sounded right.
Draco leaned forward and kissed Hermione softly before she deepened the kiss, her tongue intertwining with his own. She tasted exquisite and he let out a sound of contentment.
In another world, they wouldn’t be hiding in dark hallways to share their affection with one another. In another world, they would --
He tightened his grip around her waist, not letting himself to keep thinking like that. He was here with her now and he was grateful enough that he was allowed to share these moments with her.
He pulled away from her and stared again. “And I think I would want nothing more than to make this something more, Granger.”
Suddenly terrified of how she would respond, he walked away to his class before she could.
VI.
He had pulled her into an abandoned classroom before dinner, ignoring the forsaken cabinet once more for another taste of the glorious Hermione Granger. He had her pinned between himself and the wall, his lips hovering above hers.
“There’s something wrong with me,” he murmured into her lips, tracing her jawline with his thumbs.
Hermione leaned back against the wall and stared at him. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I thought that one taste was all I would need to stop thinking about you. I hated it, you know? Seeing you cry because of Ronald fucking Weasley. You have always been so brilliant and clever and amazing and this bloody idiot had hurt you and you had actually let him.” Draco thought of the night of the Yule Ball and how furious he really was. “That’s what angered me so much. That you allowed a weasel like him to make you cry like that.”
He paused and took her in, memorizing her as best as he could. “You throw me off, you witch. You have broken every single ill-conceived notion I have ever held and you challenge me in a way I have never been. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Draco sighed and reached up to stroke her face, still thinking of the time when he thought her nothing more than an unattainable fantasy. “I thought that one kiss would be enough but I can’t stay away, Granger. I keep coming back to you. What have you done to me?”
She grinned mischievously, and he wanted to kiss her again. “I’ve only done what you’ve wanted me to do to you, Malfoy.”
Hermione made the decision for him, reaching up on her tip-toes to capture his willing lips. She laughed sweetly as he smoothed his hands over her pert bum and squeezed.
Long after he left, Draco came to the conclusion that he was enamored with the witch and wondered when it was that he began feeling this way.
VII.
Tonight was the night that his life would change forever. That night found Draco Malfoy praying for the first time in his life to whatever gods he could think of.
He prayed, first, for the safety of his witch in the brutal war that would begin very soon. Merlin knows that out of all of the witches that could have captured Draco’s affection, it had to be the Gryffindor witch who liked to play Queen to Harry Potter’s King on this chessboard. Draco knew without a doubt that Hermione would do whatever was necessary to protect her best friend, and so he prayed that she lived through this war.
He prayed for his mother’s survival, neglecting to pray for his father that lead this into this mess.
He prayed for strength and fortitude and for the war to be soon over so that his witch would suffer no longer than necessary.
He prayed for one more taste of her so that when his death inevitably came, he could remember how honey drizzled from her lips onto his own with the sweet taste of pumpkin juice washing it down.
He left the dungeons, sneaking to the Room of Requirements as quickly as he could. He didn’t make more than a dozen steps before he saw her.
Perhaps praying to the gods worked, he mused to himself.
“Something’s wrong,” she blurted without preamble. He watched as she fidgeted her hands nervously. “You know exactly what’s going on.”
Again, shame filled him and he wanted to make sure that she knew why he was doing this. "You have to understand, Hermione. He has my mother," his voice came out hoarse. "He threatened to let the other Death Eaters at her before he killed both her and my father. We're being punished -- my father failed, and so we're being punished, and if I don't let this happen, it's over for my family."
“What can I do?” She asked. They gravitated towards each other and Draco allowed himself to touch her, placing his hands on her waist, rubbing circles on her hips bones with his thumbs.
He had to try.
"Leave the castle," Draco requested. "Leave the country. Stay out of the war. Stay safe. I can't -- you're going to be in danger from now, and I can't keep you safe or protect you or stay by your side. The war's been brewing and now it's about to start and I can't --"
Hermione shook her head, and he watched tears fill her eyes. "You know I can't do that, Draco, I can't leave them, I can't leave Harry in this war."
He knew that this would be her answer, but no one could fault Draco for trying. He closed his eyes and pressed their bodies together. “Please,” he begged.
“I can’t,” she repeated. “And you can’t ask this of me.”
“Then run away with me?”
“We both know that we’d be hunted down.”
Oh, he did know that. He felt his body tremble as he pulled her closer, tucking her beneath his chin and pressing his face into her hair. He breathed her in and tried to memorize how this felt, how having her in his arms felt.
In another lifetime, he’d follow her to the ends of the world. But in this lifetime --
“This was never supposed to happen,” he confessed quietly before kissing her, moving his hands to grip her face.
He reckoned that this would be the last time that he would ever see her or feel her or taste her on his lips again. Once more, he tried to commit everything about her to memory, from the way she felt under his hands to the taste of honey and pumpkin juice. She was it for him and in the next few months in which he knew he would die, these last moments would be what would keep him sane.
Draco pulled away from her only when his lungs felt like bursting from lack of oxygen.
“But I don’t think I’ll ever regret this, Hermione.”
He walked away from her, leaving his heart in her very capable hands.
In their next lifetime, he’d come back for it.
VIII.
She was laying in front of him, fear contorting her face and radiating from her (too thin) body as his aunt stalked towards her. He knew how this would play out -- he’d been on the receiving end of that wand before. Deliberately, he took his Aunt Bella’s wand from her, catching it as it flew across the room.
Aunt Bella turned towards him. “What do you think you’re doing?” She screeched in anger.
He stunned his aunt silently, ignoring both her question and his parents. Draco kneeled by Hermione’s side. “Are you okay?”
Hermione gave him a quick nod before he gripped her by the forearms and pulled her up.
“Good,” he responded, brushing her hair away from her face. He scanned her body and felt sick at how malnourished she looked. “You’re much too thin, Granger.”
She didn’t answer as she gently cupped his face in between her hands. He resisted the urge to lean into her warmth and to close his eyes, choosing instead to place his hands over her own.
"Come with me, Draco. Please. I can protect you," she urged.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head and pressing a kiss against her forehead. "I can't, Hermione. Don't ask this of me."
He felt her breath quicken, and his heart broke as he thought of what to do next. She had to be safe and each second that she spent in his Manor was another second that put her into further danger.
“He’ll kill you, Draco! He’ll know that you helped me, helped us! You’re signing your own death sentence if you don’t come with me!”
Better me than you, he thought to himself. He opened his eyes and gave her a sad smile. “What a way to go, then, isn’t it? Saving the witch that I love.”
At least she knows now.
“No,” she growled, her body vibrating with anger. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t bleeding do this to me! You are not allowed to die on me like this! ”
In the next lifetime, I won’t do this to you, he silently promised.
“My clever and brilliant witch,” he whispered against her lips before kissing her hard, letting her know how much he truly loved her. “I wish I could have told you on my own terms.”
He stepped away from her, compartmentalizing everything as she stumbled towards him with tears streaming down her face.
"Dobby, take care of her," Draco ordered, and with a sure nod, the house-elf disapparated with his witch out, the sound of her angry scream disappearing abruptly.
Draco turned to his parents who had been watching the entire ordeal. His father opened his mouth and was about to speak when his mother raised her hand.
“Don’t,” she hissed at his father before turning her full attention towards him. “Is she the one that you love, my son?”
Draco nodded solemnly. He watched his mother breath in and hold her breath before sighing heavily. “Then I will take care of this mess. If you don’t follow my instructions, we will all die, do you understand?”
IX.
The final battle had begun and Draco hurried after Crabbe and Goyle to make sure that they couldn’t complete the task that the Dark Lord had assigned them.
“Draco!”
He stopped in his tracks and so did the world, or so it seemed. He turned around and then his arms were full of witch. She quickly pulled back, placing her hands on both of his cheeks, clearly checking him for injuries.
"You're alive," she sighed in relief. "I thought that after you saved me -"
He cut her off with a searing kiss, holding her body flush against his as if he could mold her to him so that she could never leave. One hand cupped her cheek while the other held onto her waist.
"Our jobs here aren't finished, Hermione, we have to go."
He gave her one last kiss on the forehead before he turned to leave, but Hermione grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him back.
"If we survive this, if the both of us come out of this alive, I want to give us a proper chance."
He flashed her a smirk. “I would expect nothing less."
X.
"You may now kiss the bride," the officiator declared.
His new wife grinned at him before reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss him. She gave a squeal of delight when he picked her up to give her a proper kiss. There would be no more hiding in dark hallways and abandoned classrooms anymore.
A wolf-whistle came from the crowd and the two of them pulled away, Hermione's face bright red as she buried it into Draco's shoulders.
"Looks like you're stuck with me forever, Granger," Draco whispered into her ear.
Hermione pulled back and glared at Draco playfully. "It's Granger-Malfoy, Malfoy."
"Too much of a mouthful, I'll just call you mine from now on."
In this lifetime and in the next, he’d call her his.
fin.