Chapter Text
She knew.
He’d known she’d figure it out eventually, however he didn’t expect it to be so soon. Would tonight be the last time she would let him wrap himself around her under the stars?
She was staring.
Her cheeks were pink from the chilly evening air but they’d darkened to a pretty rose. Her honey brown eyes were blown wide, cast down.
He dared a step towards her.
She flicked her eyes up to his. “You must be freezing.” She screeched, her voice echoing in the quiet valley.
He shook his head slowly, daring another step closer.
She backed up, almost tripping over herself. He watched as her chest expanded rapidly, he couldn’t work out wether the look on her face was fear, shock or amazement.
“I’ll put the jug on!” She yelled at him before turning on her heels and racing back towards the house.
Unhurriedly Draco followed, watching in amusement as Granger stumbled in through the back door.
She was drunk.
He’d noticed she’d been drinking all afternoon, watching him from her window with her friends. He liked that she watched him. He liked watching her too.
He walked through the kitchen to find her banging about, opening every cupboard possible. It was all very amusing watching her try to perform any sort of task with her eyes darting frantically around the room at anywhere but him.
“Are you okay?” Draco asked tentatively.
“Ah!” She jumped a foot in the air, the bottle of milk in her hand sloshed all over the floor. She looked down at it splattered between their feet.
He watched as her gaze slowly lifted, until her eyes blew comically wide.
“Lemme… fine you a blanket…” She mumbled to herself as she quickly tried to escape the crammed kitchen, she stopped to clutch her stomach then emptied the contents of it onto the floor.
He was there in an instant, his warm hands steadying her. She mumbled something incoherent as her face fell into his chest.
Merlin she was freezing.
She tilted her head up to look at him with leftover sick on her lip, “You’re so hot.”
He frowned at her, he needed to make her better.
She had made a mess of her robe, the one she always wore, he swore she never washed it. With shaking fingers he undid the belt at the front.
“What are you doing?” She asked, her words slurred.
Maybe he shouldn’t be undressing her? But he couldn’t leave her covered in her own sick. If only he would use -
No. He hadn’t touched a wand in years, since before. He could hardly stand the sight of one, the end of a wand being pointed at him was the last thing he saw every day for three years before the curse would hit. Before the endless cold.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled as he helped her out of her dressing gown.
“Am I getting naked, like you?” She asked innocently.
He froze. He looked up at her and she was… was she batting her eyelashes at him?
He forgot he was naked. He was too used to it, he’d forgotten it made people uncomfortable.
“No, I’m not getting you naked Granger.”
She pouted at him.
He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. He shouldn’t be here, he knew that. He knew that when he’d sneak in each night, but the need to keep her warm, keep her safe, to nurture her was instinctual, he couldn’t deny it anymore than he could hunger.
“My names Her-my-oh-nee.” She pronounced each syllable terribly as if she didn’t even know her own name. She started giggling uncontrollably, so much so it was hard for Draco not to start grinning and chuckling with her.
And then it all happened so fast.
Hermione bent down in one fluid motion to rip her pants off, violently. She gasped then clutched her head as it came into contact with Draco’s dragon, falling flat on her bottom, pants stuck around her ankles and slippers.
Draco clutched his broomstick and bludgers with two hands as he groaned.
“Why is it so big?” Hermione whined.
“I think I need to find some pants… and a Pepperup Potion…” He mumbled.
The room was spinning and it had shrunk. Or had the room gotten larger? She started giggling at the marshmallows bobbing in the mug she was holding. Why was there so many? Had Rose made it? She frowned as a wave of nausea came back then froze as she heard shuffling. She looked up to find a pale man with white blonde hair sitting across from her on the floor of her living room with a blanket draped around his shoulders. He had a matching hot cocoa in his hands. Who was this man? He looked a lot like -
Her cheeks flamed as she came back to herself. She could still taste the vomit in her mouth, it had gotten everywhere. She remembered warm hands and a giggling idiot. Wait - she was the giggling idiot. She was mortified. Why did she think drinking all afternoon was a good idea?
“Are you okay?” He asked her once again.
She laughed humourlessly, “No. No I’m not.” She took a sip of the hot cocoa. Merlin it was good.
She couldn’t remember why he was here, so she asked the polite thing whilst she was still transfixed on her drink. “Are you?”
“Am I what?” He responded with a confused tilt to his head that resembled a puppy.
“Are you okay?” She smiled.
“Do I seem okay to you?”
She frowned, furrowing her brows in concentration as she looked at him. Really looked at him. She noticed he was shaking as if cold, his hair had fallen into his eyes, stuck together with sweat. He looked like he was barely holding himself together. The veins in his hand were bulging as they clutched his mug too tightly, like it might shatter under his firm grip. She used to watch those hands in potions class, how his long deft fingers would chop the ingredients, how he would use his wand… He stared at her, unblinking. His grey eyes vacant, devoid of what made somebody human. She wondered how much of the old Draco Malfoy she knew was in there, if he even existed at all. She wanted to curse him, throw him out of her house. She wanted to help him, hug him -
That’s when she noticed she had no pants on.
“Draco…” she said cautiously, “What happened to my pants?”
She looked to him, tracking the flush of pink starting from his chest, curl up his neck.
“You took them off.”
She closed her eyes tightly. Of course she did. She shivered, she wasn’t wearing as many layers as she usually would.
“Will you come here?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re freezing.” He seethed, “Come here.” He opened up the blanket to her ever so slightly.
She stared at him with wide eyes, “Are you mad?”
“I just want you to be warm.” He stated earnestly.
Was it that simple? Was it no different than her seeking out a dragon for warmth than it was to tuck herself against him. They were the same after all. Perhaps she wouldn’t have relented if she’d been sober. Perhaps she would’ve given anything to have the ice in her veins recede. Perhaps it was because it was him.
He opened his arms slightly wider. She wanted to. She really wanted to. Was it wrong to use him? It didn’t feel so wrong when he had scales and a tail… she couldn’t seem to be mad at him like she was earlier, not when he was looking at her like that.
She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”
Getting up on her knees she crawled towards him. Her throat bobbing as she came face to face with him. She’d already seen it but she didn’t look down. He was still naked underneath her throw rug. She’d have to burn it… or hide it.
She stumbled slightly whilst trying to juggle her drink, when a warm hand shot out to steady her.
“Be careful.” His voice was deadly as his eyes darkened on her.
She nodded and turned around, putting her back to him.
He wrapped his arms, his legs and the blanket he was wearing around her.
She leant back into his chest, being careful not to be entirely flush against him. Before she could regret it, the heat of him washed over her and she sighed deeply.
He clutched her arms tight, gripping them both to her body whilst running soothing circles with his thumbs. She moaned at the sensation then froze completely.
She could feel his hot breath panting down her neck as if exerted.
She wanted to get up quickly, to get far away from him but no matter what her mind thought her body wouldn’t obey.
“What happened to you?” She whispered to distract herself, staring out her window to the dark house across the street, her voice all too loud in her quiet living room where only the sound of the fire crackling and their shared breathing existed.
He spoke softly after what felt like a lifetime, “I would picture a warm beach.”
Hermione stilled in his arms as she listened.
“I imagined I was bare foot, sinking my toes deep into the hot sand, until they were submerged. The warm tide of the ocean would come in and lap around my ankles, I’d close my eyes as the heat of the sun beat down on me.”
She envisioned him, standing without socks or shoes on a beach, his alabaster skin blinding her, she felt the corner of her mouth lift slightly at the thought.
“I lived on that beach, stranded, imagining I couldn’t feel the cold in my bones, couldn’t feel the ice between my scales. Had to imagine I was still a man, to make it through three years of torture that felt like three hundred.”
Hermione suddenly felt too sober for the conversation, for the position she was currently in. After what felt too long and she was staring into an empty mug, feeling a strange kinship to it she spoke just as quietly, as if not wanting to wake the dragon at her back, “Theo could help you.”
She waited, chancing a look up at him. He was looking straight ahead as he said not at all softly, “You think I’m broken, Granger?”
There he was. The boy she went to school with. Who teased her in the halls, who threw sneers her way across a classroom, who looked at her like she was less than, like she was a -
“Maybe I am.” He said to himself and something in the way he said it thawed her all over again.
He stood abruptly and she gasped at the loss. Her gaze not faltering once on the retreating backside she’d witnessed twice in one evening. She watched the firm muscles retreat out of her living room then heard the slam of her backdoor.
She lurched up as she hunted for any remaining liquor in the house.
One minute she was on a hot sandy beach the next three voices were in her ear.
“Are you alright Mione?”
“Rough night?”
She blearily sat up on the couch looking around her living room to see the evidence of the night before, two abandoned mugs of hot cocoa, an empty bottle of Ogdens and the blanket that had touched Draco Malfoys bits.
Harry and Ron stood before her with matching quirked eyebrows. Instead of getting up and quickly tidying up every single thing in sight she laid back down on the pillow, pulling the blankets up higher over her face.
“Why won’t anyone leave me alone?”
The fireplace roared again and she groaned.
“Mum!” Rose ran to the couch, jumping to sit on top of her. “It’s a mess in here.” She scrunched up her nose.
She snuggled her daughter whilst the fire flared green, presenting none other than Charlie Weasley.
“How are you feeling Hermione?” Charlie asked as he dusted himself off.
“Better if people would stop showing up in my living room incessantly!”
“Sorry,” Harry winced, “We’ll wait for you to get cleaned up, c’mon let’s make some tea.”
Ron just have her a disapproving look as the three of them headed to the kitchen.
“Did you have a party Mummy?”
“Something like that.” She grumbled, getting up to stand, she looked at her appearance in the mirror across her living room, she almost shrieked at the sight of her hair.
It felt like tiny needles were stabbing her fingertips, she could’ve kissed Harry on the lips when he handed her a hot mug of coffee as she entered the kitchen. She pressed the pads of her fingers hard against the porcelain.
Theo wouldn’t be visiting today, he had a day off. She had tried her best to let him do his job as a healer but she was frustrated at the slow progress they were making, it only further confirmed to her that whatever she was hit with was incredibly dark magic. She’d been trying to ignore the feeling of it under her skin, focussing too much on the one thing that could give her relief…
Her cheeks went pink as last night floated back to her. She shook her head, she needed to get to a library and bury herself in research, help Theo find a counter curse. She itched to get back to work, to do anything else but be home all day and night.
“Did you have a guest last night?” Ron asked.
Hermione reached out to the plate of hot crumpets, no doubt Harry had made. The butter having melted through the tiny holes. She took a bite and moaned. She caught the cheeks of Charlie’s cheeks reddening.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” She said around a mouthful.
“How’s the dragon situation Hermione?” Charlie asked, clearly wanting to get on with it
“Uh well, uhm.” She took a long slurp of her coffee before landing on, “Good, very friendly.” Yes, Hermione, very friendly indeed. She choked on her drink.
“I know it’s only been a couple of days but…” Charlie nervously looked to Ron and Harry before back down at his cup of tea.
“We think Charlie should organise relocating it.” Ron blurted.
“What why?” Hermione started, “I thought you said we needed to wait it out, see if it moved on by itself?” She asked Charlie.
Harry’s hand reached hers from across the table, “It’s Rose,” he spoke quietly.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione went on high alert. Rose was in the lounge tucked up in her favourite spot by the window with a book.
“She had an outburst last night. Said she doesn’t want to stay with us anymore, that she wants to stay with Mum and her new best friend.”
Hermione looked between Harry and Ron confused.
“She was talking about the dragon.”
“Right.”
“No matter how friendly this dragon is, we can’t let Rose get close to it. This is serious Hermione.”
“Yes of course.” She sipped her coffee so loud it was the only sound in the kitchen.
“You don’t seem to be too worried.” Ron asked with narrowed eyes.
Charlie scratched the back of his neck looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here having this conversation.
“No, well you see.” Godric she needed to tell them she knew, before the situation got even more out of hand. If they went out there with their wands drawn trying to relocate him there’s no telling how he’d react. Before she had time to doubt herself the words tumbled from her lips, “It’s an Animagus.” Shit. She quickly downed the rest of her coffee, searching for a reaction on the faces of Harry, Ron and Charlie.
All three of them got up from the table immediately, the chairs scraped on the hard wood floor as they dashed out the back door to the meadow.
She launched up after them chasing them in the backyard as the three of them stopped with their wands drawn at the sleeping dragon.
Draco was up on all four legs as Hermione skidded in front of him, arms out wide. “Don’t!” She screamed at the boys.
“Hermione.” Harry said cautiously, wand at the ready. “Who is this?” She watched him eye the dragon carefully but not daring to actually look it in the eye.
“My neighbour.”
The ground shook beneath her feet as the dragons legs came closer, standing on either side of her, her head under its chest. The heat coming off of him was delicious, Hermione couldn’t help herself as she breathed deeply and held onto its left leg.
Harry narrowed his eyes at her.
“Your neighbour?” Ron asked as he screwed up his face in confusion then realisation set in, he raised his wand even higher at the dragons face, “It’s bloody Malfoy! That slimey -
Ron’s voice was cut off by a roar that made Hermione drop to her knees, she watched overhead as a flame of the brightest red graced the blue morning sky.
“Hermione, move! Now!” Charlie commanded.
She caught a flurry of wild copper in the wind before her daughter came racing down in front of her, yelling at her father’s and uncle, “Stop! Stop!” She cried.
“Rose get back inside now!” Ron yelled.
“Don’t hurt him!”
Hermione grabbed her daughter, pulling her to her chest, “It’s alright.” She murmured to her but perhaps more to herself.
She felt a gust of wind behind her back, watching as the dragon bolted skyward, leaving them all watching the glittering dragon fly off into the distance.
“What on earth are you playing at Mione! You could’ve gotten us killed!” Ron started.
Rose was crying in her arms.
“I think that’s enough, I want you all to leave.” Hermione said, hauling herself and Rose to her feet, making their way to the house, ignoring the looks cast her way.
“Hermione.” Charlie called out to her retreating back.
She turned to him, clutching Rose to her side.
“Did you know dragons mate for life?”
“No.” Hermione said tentatively, not sure what he was getting at.
“Now you do.” He replied simply, looking at her in a way she couldn’t comprehend.
Ron and Charlie had wordlessly left through the floo. Charlie had given her a pitying look.
Harry hanged back, waiting by the fireplace, before he turned to her, speaking low, “He’s been healing you hasn’t he? That dragon was hit with the same curse as you… that’s why he’s here.”
Hermione looked to the floor nodding in confirmation, a tear escaping her eye.
“He’s unregistered Hermione, we’ve got to report it.” Harry placed his hand on her arm, it was clammy. Nothing like the hands that had been wrapped around her the night before. Her tears fell harder.
“He’s been missing, he was captured and tortured. Harry, he’s not well.” Her voice cracked. Her head hurt, no one would leave her alone and she was not well either.
“All the more reason then. Perhaps Theo could help? If he’s not in his right mind, as an Animagus he could be a danger not only to others but himself.”
Hermione took a deep breath, “I know, I know. Could you give me a day? I’ll talk to him about coming in himself.” It was all she could do.
“Alright, a day. Let me talk to Ron too. He’s not going to be happy.”
“Thank you.”
Harry gave her a kiss on the check and another squeeze before heading home.
She tried to relax with Rose for the rest of the day but she kept finding excuses to enter the kitchen to look out the window only to find her back meadow empty, nothing but the grass and wildflowers blowing in the breeze. She thought of how it felt to sit out there with a magnificent creature at her back, warmth radiating through her body, not feeling quite so alone.
“Will he come back?” Her daughter’s voice was small. She was tucked into bed, clutching a stuffed lion. Hermione couldn’t work out why Rose felt attached to this dragon, in truth she couldn’t work out why she was as well.
“Yeah, honey. He will.” Hermione said as she sat on her bed adjusting the blankets, not knowing if there was any truth to her words, she was trying to comfort them both.
She couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning under her pile of blankets. She couldn’t get warm, no matter how much she stoked the fire, put several pairs of socks on or cast her own warming charms. She’d been sleeping well she thought, she’d always drift off and be pulled into a deep slumber filled with hot sandy beaches and -
Her melancholy turned to fury as she realised why.