Chapter Text
Hogsmeade
June 2005
Draco was sitting in the living room of the pretty house he shared with his beautiful wife, enjoying the quiet late Saturday morning, an orange monstrosity of a cat that he unfortunately had to share his life and his wife with curled on his lap. His copy of that month’s The Potioneer’s News lay forgotten by his side as he’d rather watch said wife cook them lunch; the muggle-style open-concept remodelling that she had promised him would be great and he had soundly doubted had quickly grown on him as he could now see the appeal of being able to see her from any corner of the living space of their home.
Crookshanks let out a loud noise, between a growl and a purr, as if he knew Draco was oggling their owner – yes, she owned them both, undoubtedly; but the kneazle’s weak show of dominance didn’t deter him in the least, he kept watching his wife moving around in the kitchen, her long chestnut curly hair gathered up in a messy bun at the top of her head, her amber eyes focused on the pan in front of her as she magically ordered plates and cutlery to set themselves on the table by the kitchen island.
She caught him staring and winked playfully, making him smile.
Hermione Malfoy ( née Granger) demands no introduction; the brightest witch of their age, war heroine, who had proved his whole family’s values wrong when they met at eleven years old, the one woman who owned him, heart and soul, and who had accepted to wear his ring and bear his name one year ago – when they got married after two years of courtship.
Draco still struggled to believe his luck.
She was indeed a brilliant witch, having graduated at the top of her class at the St. Mungus’ Healer Programme two years ago, she now worked only afternoons at the local clinic and helped him with his potions inventions and with anything else he might need as the Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – a job he had apprehensively started the previous year and quickly learned he loved.
They lived a calm, simple life, in a four-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath, English cottage-style home in Hogsmeade. The peaceful life they both deserved after having been forced to grow up during war times.
Besides being brilliant, Hermione also cooked like a chef, and had a curvy body any man would love to get lost in, not to mention she loved sex – Draco was a lucky man and he knew it.
“ Ow !” he exclaimed, as Crookshanks dug his claws on his thighs before giving him an angry meow and jumping off his lap, curling on the farther edge of the sofa and shooting him with a more pronounced frown than usual, making it clear he had a very good idea of what he had been thinking.
“You ungrateful little shit, forget about getting any Catnip Wands from me this week.”
“How many have you been giving him?” asked Hermione, stopping what she was doing and eyeing him suspiciously.
Both man and kneazle answered “ One ,” – even though Crookshanks’ sounded like “ Meoow .”
She shook her head and chuckled, resuming preparing dinner.
“Have you checked on the Veritaserum this morning?” she asked after a while.
“Yes, love. And I let Theo know he could come collect it tonight.”
Theodore Nott, Draco’s best mate since birth, worked at the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic, an Unspeakable – believe it or not. Six years ago, he had completely recovered from the life-threatening injuries he sustained during the final battle to the astonishment of all of his healers. However, if it weren’t for the Malfoy Vaults (that Draco had been allowed to keep half of) and Hermione’s thirst for knowledge, Theo would’ve died from the fatal battle-wounds.
Thankfully, he survived, and Hermione then found out she loved saving people beyond a battlefield so she enrolled in the Healer Programme that same day Theo left the Hospital walking on his own.
“Did you invite him for dinner?” continued Hermione, organising the cutlery on the table.
“Yes,” Draco sighed, “But, as usual of late, he refused.”
Hermione frowned, arms akimbo, clearly unhappy with what she had heard, “So it’s right to say Theo is avoiding us.”
“Yes, love,” Draco nodded, glancing down his lap, not sure if he should tell his wife his suspicions of why his lifelong friend had been keeping his distance, “I’m honestly considering duelling some sense into him the next time he comes to collect the potions. What’s the penalty for attacking an Unspeakable?”
“Two years in Azkaban and a fuming wife,” she narrowed her eyes at him, clearly disapproving of his idea of attacking their friend.
He chuckled, “Don’t worry, love, I won’t leave witnesses.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at his Slytheriness, but her concern didn’t diminish, her eyes drifting to the window as her arms wrapped around herself, “I hope he’s alright, I miss him,” she spoke softly, as if afraid of admitting her feelings out loud.
Draco nodded slowly, wondering if the moment he had been waiting for had mayhap finally arrived; Hermione wasn’t the wiser but he was fully aware that she had developed an attachment to Theodore Nott – and he had been anxiously waiting for her to say something about it.
Since the day she had single-handedly saved his life, and because he was Draco’s best friend, Theo was a guaranteed presence in the Granger-Malfoy household; he had dinner with them at least twice a week and even had a permanent bedroom claimed as his in their house – a room he hadn’t slept in in more than a month, though.
“I worry about him too, love,” Draco said, not shying away from speaking about his tender feelings for their friend; Hermione knew he and Theo had had a romantic relationship during the war, finding in each other a reason to continue living while nothing else around gave them a modicum of hope, and he’d be lying if he said those feelings had ended with the war.
She sighed and walked towards him, looking peeved, “You Slytherins can be more prideful than a hippogriff; do you think he’d let us know if anything was wrong?”
“Well,” Draco pondered, pulling her to sit sideways on his lap and getting a disapproving glare from Crookshanks for they wouldn’t stop moving, “Knowing Theo,” he continued, holding his wife close, ignoring the grumpy kneazle, “No, he wouldn’t tell us. He’d just keep going until he either killed whatever is bothering him or it killed him.”
“Stupidly stubborn Slytherins,” grumbled Hermione.
“Sure, love, cause you little lions are the picture of sensible decisions.”
She shot him a glare but it clearly had no true anger behind it, so he pulled her for a slow sensual kiss, his hand moving up her thigh, making her smile against his lips.
She caressed his face, her dwindling smile turning into a bitten lip – something she did whenever she had something on her mind.
“What’s got your brilliant brain working hard, Granger?” he asked, playfully calling her by her maiden name.
“Do you miss him?” she asked, caressing his blond hair, trying to be nonchalant.
“Of course, I wouldn't risk angering you for attacking him if I didn’t miss him.”
“Not to mention a trip to Azkaban,” she added, narrowing her eyes.
“Oh, that too,” he shrugged, “But I’d be safe from your anger there.”
She playfully slapped his shoulder, smiling at his joke that facing her would be worse than Azkaban.
“As a lover,” Hermione added, her amber eyes intensely fixed on him, “Do you miss having Theo as a lover?”
Draco frowned, a little taken aback by the straightforwardness of her question, once again hoping he’d finally be able to fully disclosure his feelings for Theo and also learn the depth of hers.
Cautiously, he answered: “I have you, love, I don’t need anyone else.”
She rolled her eyes, “Drop the Slytherin act, Malfoy. Answer my question,” she demanded, his hesitancy not escaping her notice.
Draco gulped, uncharacteristic nervousness taking over him as he realised that talk might be taking him into uncharted territory – he hoped Hermione wouldn’t be angry, that she’d admit she loved Theo too and then...
He averted his eyes for a second, finding the hem of her skirt suddenly too interesting.
She tilted her head, learning everything she needed to know in his loud silence; but she wouldn’t make it easy for him – she needed to hear him admit he still had feelings for their friend, because if he didn't, it meant she was the only one with an inappropriate infatuation that left her feeling like an adulterer every time Theodore stopped by.
She let out a mocking gasp, feigning regret: “Oh, I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten that courage isn’t a Slytherin trait.”
Draco looked at her with annoyance, but she ignored and, gathering all the bravery she’d accused him of not having, she added softly:
“I’ve... thought about it, you know.”
Draco tightened his arm around her waist, “Thought about what?” he demanded clarification.
“You and Theodore,” her fingers began to toy with the buttons of his light blue button-down shirt, her voice lowering into a sexy whisper: “I’ve imagined you fucking him more times than I should, considering I’m married to you.”
His widened grey eyes stared at her, and she blushed under his gaze.
“Would you-” he cleared his throat, “Would you be interested in seeing that?” he offered, testing the proverbial waters, waiting for her reply with bated breath.
Her head snapped up to his, eagerness etched on her face, “Are you still attracted to him then?”
“What?” Draco frowned, confused by her question.
She decided to spell it out: “Are you offering to let me watch you fuck him? Would you do it in front of me?”
Draco gaped for a moment, both surprised and elated that she didn’t sound jealous, “In the Pensieve , Granger!” he exclaimed, carefully calculating each of his responses, for he still needed her to get to the bottom of that conversation; he could already tell that she was sexually interested in the thought of Theodore and him, in fact pure lust was causing her pupils to dilate.
“Oh,” she blinked a couple times, “You mean a memory ,” she sounded somewhat disappointed.
“Yes, a memory, Granger, ” he said, his heart pounding a little too fast for someone who shouldn’t be sporting a semi at the thought of fucking his best friend in front of his wife.
“Hm,” she made a non-committal sound, “It’s just...” she let out a sigh, sounding a little off, “Thank you, love, but I’ll pass. I don’t want to see anything from war times, no matter how sexy I imagine it was. I guess I’ll just keep seeing it in my dreams then,” she finished with a kiss onto his lips and a smirk.
Draco felt the sudden bout of nervousness that that talk had given him leave his body at the sight of her mirth, so he chuckled, grabbing her chin firmly and biting her bottom lip, “You have a very dirty mind, kitten...” then he took her lips in a sensual kiss, his tongue wrapping around hers, making it clear that he strongly desired her despite the subject in discussion.
“Adding to this honest, disgustingly Gryffindorish conversation...” Draco let out a sigh, caressing her neck, “I must admit that I’ve had a dream once,” his voice going low, gaining a sensuous tone, “or maybe more, where he and I pleasured you.”
Hermione gasped softly, truly surprised by her husband’s admission.
He would’ve hesitated voicing his desires any further but he could tell by the flushing of her cheeks, and the glinting in her eyes, that she didn’t seem repulsed by that idea – quite the opposite actually.
He touched a thumb to her lips and continued: “In the dreams, I shared you with him... if I close my eyes, I can picture it clearly: you on all fours on top of him, between us, both of us inside you...”
Hermione was blushing red, her chest moving faster, her eyes sparkling with desire, she blurted: “I wish Pensieves worked with dreams.”
“Is that so, love?” Draco chuckled, finding her clear interest in his words very enlightening and, hopefully, promising.
“Well...” she said, blinking away the fog of desire, and clearing her throat, “I have to say that if I were single, and if Theo weren’t gay, I’d have already fucked him.”
Draco smirked, pulling her face closer to rub their lips together, “Would you like me to talk to Theo about that? I’ve seen the way he looks at you, he might not be as gay as he thinks.”
Hermione frowned at his offer, feeling a little hurt even, “Wouldn’t you feel jealous?”
Draco knew his true answer ( “Not at all.” ) could hurt her feelings, so he shrugged and replied: “I bit, yes, but I’d do anything to make you happy, kitten. And I did just admit to have dreamed of watching you and Theo fuck.”
She nodded, biting her lip and pondering for a few seconds, but she soon reached a conclusion: “No,” she said softly, shaking her head, “As enticing as that idea is... I wouldn’t be able to fuck him and keep it casual. We’re already too intimate for that... we’ve both seen him naked, I have taken care of him for weeks after the war.”
Draco slowly nodded, trying not to laugh as his suspicions were undoubtedly confirmed; relief filled his heart as he understood her point: there were already feelings involved – from both their parts, thankfully – casual sex might ruin their relationship with Theo.
“What about,” Draco slowly said, testing the waters further, “ more ?”
“What do you mean, more ?” she frowned.
“Maybe that’s why he’s been avoiding us... maybe he wants more from us and thinks we would never consider it,” Draco purposely emphasised the ‘he’ , in an effort to keep the focus on the off chance that Theo might want more from them – Theo , not him.
Hermione frowned, sounding suddenly indignant: “I’d never cheat on you, Draco! If Theo is avoiding us because he’d like to date me, he’d better keep his distance for if he tried anything I’d have to hex him!”
Draco held her closer, fearing he had spoken too much too soon and ruined the chance to have an open conversation with her. He nodded, trying to calm her down, “I know, love. I know...”
“I love you ,” Hermione said emphatically, “And I’m yours as you are mine . Could I love Theo? Yes, if circumstances were different. But you’re my beloved husband and I’m no cheater!”
He nodded, watching her get up and walk back to the kitchen; he then glanced down to his empty lap, finding it curious how that was a direct contrast to the chaotic mess of thoughts running inside his mind.
It hadn’t been the clarifying conversation he had wished for, but Hermione had admitted she could love Theo – and she certainly desired him.
Draco felt like he had the Golden Snitch on his sights, all he had to do now was make Theodore admit his feelings for them without getting himself an angry wife and a trip to Azkaban.