Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“Please don’t make me do this, there has to be another way,” I beg Kingsley while waving the parchment that showed up at my window this morning. “You can’t honestly expect me to marry him , reformed or not, we’re just not a suitable match; we were never even friends.”
I’ve been trying to make the same arguments for an hour, and Kingsley’s irritation is showing as he simply pushes the parchment away from him and crosses his arms. He leans back against his desk, giving me a look as if I’m a child throwing a senseless tantrum. “I cannot make exceptions to the law, if you wish to appeal, you will have to go through the proper steps and–”
“Please,” I cut him off desperately. I drop to my knees before him, pleading. “Please don’t make me do this, I am begging you.”
He gives me a sad look, pushing away from his desk and walking towards me. He grabs me by the elbows and gently drags me to my feet, rubbing circles on my arm with his thumb before he speaks. “I’m sorry, Hermione. There’s no other choice. You either accept the match,” he pauses and forces me to meet his eyes before continuing in an even softer voice than before. “Or you give up your wand.”
He blurs before me as I finally allow my tears to spill from my eyes, shaking my head. “He’ll never accept this match,” I whisper. “Kingsley, he’ll find a way to get rid of me, you know I’m not his type. I’m not a pureblood, his family won’t approve and neither will he and–”
“He’s already agreed,” Kingsley cuts me off softly. “Draco has changed a lot from the boy you knew. He is a good man , Hermione.”
I stand frozen, not knowing what else I can say. It makes no sense that he’d agree to this, I expected him to fight this just as much as I would. I figured he for sure wouldn’t want to sully his family name and bloodline with someone like me, and I was counting on us both being against this match to make an appeal.
“I would recommend you speak with him, maybe come up with an acceptable contract for your relationship and set expectations. The sooner you provide an heir, the sooner you can live separate lives. It isn’t uncommon in some families to live in separate homes after familial duties are completed.”
“The only way he’ll get an heir out of me is if he forces himself on me,” I whisper.
Kinglsey sighs, “The law states you have two years to provide an heir or you’ll both be sent to Azkaban for five years, pending a new match until an heir is successfully produced.” He flips through a file on his desk before plopping down on his seat, grabbing his quill and signing the file before him. “I cannot promise that the next match will be different or better than what you’re getting right now. If you cannot bring yourself to love him, then maybe establish a friendship or treat this as a business arrangement.”
I sit on the loveseat in the center of the room, hugging my middle. I try to search my brain for anything else I can say, anything I can bargain with, but after two hours of this I’ve used everything I can think of.
After fighting in a battle as a teenager, after surviving him , after losing my parents trying to reverse the obliviate spell, after pulling myself out of the depths of my depression, I can’t believe this is what’s next for me. Being told to choose between a loveless marriage or losing my magic; they might as well have asked me to kill myself.
“I won’t forgive you for this,” I say finally. I look at him, and I’m shocked to see that he’s giving me a sad look as he nods.
“I know,” he murmurs softly. “Harry said the same thing, but I’m hopeful that magic knows best and this will be for the best. I hope one day you’ll forgive me, but if you find you cannot forgive me in this lifetime, then I hope you can at least find happiness in your circumstances.” He stands and walks around his desk slowly, kneeling before me and clasping my hands between both of his. “You deserve the best in this world. I think Draco could make you content, if you only give him a chance. Talk to him. Feel him out. He might surprise you.”
Chapter 2: Wallowing and Daiquiris
Notes:
Trigger warning for mature content, reference to domestic violence, physical and psychological abuse, and mentions of rape. Please take care of your mental health.
-Gen
Chapter Text
After my conversation with Kingsley, I didn't feel much like heading back to my office to work, so I simply took the rest of the afternoon off and flooed from my office to my house. I stepped out of the fireplace in my living room and dusted off my shoulders, sighing as I tossed my files onto my kitchen counter and went to run myself a bath. Deciding to wallow a bit about the events of the past few months, I submerge myself in the water and lean my head on the lip of the tub, summoning my radio to play some light music in the background.
After the war, I had lived with the Weasley’s for about three years while trying to adjust to life when there wasn't a constant threat to our lives or Horcruxes to find or Harry to keep alive. Fleur and Bill helped me keep busy and helped me with my research to reverse the spell I used to make my parents forget they had a daughter. After trying for three months with no success in reversing the spell, I gave up lest I risk causing permanent damage to their neurological health. Instead, Fleur and Bill helped with planting small memories in their heads; they took some of my memories from my childhood and placed them in their subconscious, so they’d remember some of the bond we had. They don't remember they're my parents, but they do think of me as a close friend of many years, and we keep in touch. It's not at all how I envisioned my relationship with my parents ever being, but it was better than nothing. I liked knowing what they were up to, especially now that they'd retired and were travelling the world.
Ron and I were together for nearly three years after the war. We were okay at first, but I always felt like I was with him because it was what was expected. Harry expected us to be together after the war - even though we'd had meaningless sex after Ron left us in the forest, simply because neither of us wanted to die virgins and we didn't think we'd make it out of the war - and so I tried to be the supportive girlfriend while he grieved the death of his brother.
Some nights, he would wake up panting and screaming, holding his wand up like someone was going to barge in. I would tell him I was there; remind him the battle was over and that he was safe. At first, he would simply nod and then go back to sleep. After a few months though, he would roll over and start kissing me, pushing himself onto me and telling me he regretted that I lost my virginity to Harry. Over and over, he'd say how it should've been him while he fucked me. I usually didn't say anything, letting him get it off his chest and waiting for him to fall asleep so I could crawl out of bed and clean myself up.
Six months had passed, and Harry was working at the ministry as an Auror, the trials for the captured Death Eaters were well under way, Ron was working with George at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and I had started a position working at the Muggle Relations office. Harry had mentioned in passing that Draco Malfoy’s trial was coming the following week, and that they were considering life in Azkaban for him. His father had already been sentenced to a life sentence, and his mother was serving five years of probation.
The day of Draco’s trial, I'd shown up to testify on his behalf, shocking not only everyone in the Wizengamot, but Harry, Ron and myself. Harry testified on behalf of Draco, but Ron testified against him. Everyone turned to me as the final piece to sway the decision either way, and I testified for Draco to not be punished for his father's crimes or for trying to survive in a war the only way he knew how. Ron resented my choice; that was the first time I'd seen him truly angry with me.
Draco served a year in Azkaban, a year of probation, and went on to further his education. Somehow, Harry and Draco ended up working together in the Auror department two years ago and had formed one of the best teams. Harry didn't talk much about Draco, especially around Ron, but the Daily Prophet released a lot of photos and praising articles of their successful raids as they continued to hunt for the Death Eaters who'd escaped the battle and were on the run. To this day, there were roughly twenty Death Eaters left on the loose - unless they were successful in recruiting new members.
On my and Ron’s two-year anniversary, everyone was buzzing. The always noisy house was even more so, and Molly was bustling around smiling and hugging me and telling me how much she loved me. I was nervous about what it could mean; Harry and Ginny had gotten engaged only a few months prior, and everyone seemed to think me and Ron were next, but I wasn't ready. I loved Ron, but it didn't feel like I was in love with him. I dreaded coming home from work, had broached the subject of us going our separate ways on multiple occasions - which he always laughed about and would simply say ‘no’ to - and had even applied to jobs in other countries with the hopes of leaving England behind.
When Ron proposed during our weekly family dinner, I froze. He was on his knee before me, smiling and blushing, holding the small ring out to me in his hand and everyone was watching for my reaction. I could hear my heartbeat in my head, so loud that I didn't hear anything he said. Ron’s smile had faded slowly, and I was hardly aware of everyone exiting the room to give us privacy. He’d stood and pulled me to my feet, his blue eyes piercing my own angrily.
“Do not embarrass me, Hermione,” he'd nearly growled. “Say yes.”
I'd shook my head, tears in my eyes. “I'm sorry,” I’d whispered.
He'd smiled a cynical smile, shoving the ring onto my finger and roughly kissing my forehead before giving my wrist a squeeze. “Asking was a formality, Mione. This was always going to be the next step for us. You're mine.” He’d grabbed my chin between his fingers and wiped my tears from my eyes. “Look happy when they walk in. Don't ruin the night for everyone, my mom worked hard on this dinner. You owe us after you failed to save Fred.”
Our engagement night was the first time he'd hurt me. He had gotten drunk and as soon as the door was closed behind him, he'd back handed me. His blue eyes were glassy, and his skin was flushed from the whiskey. I'd landed on my ass, gripping my cheek as I stared up at him. He'd simply scoffed and gone to lay down, snoring through the night while I cried beside him for hours.
After that it became routine. If I came home too late from work, if Harry and I had talked alone for too long or shared an inside joke, if I wasn't in the mood for sex, when I cut my hair to my shoulders and hadn't run it by him, if I forgot to bring home his whiskey. The worst was the night I'd danced with Viktor Krum at a charity ball that was raising funds to expand St. Mungo’s. I actually thought he might kill me that night. By the time he was done, I had a broken rib, broken nose, bruises on my abdomen and back, a black eye, and a soreness between my legs that didn't go away for days. I healed myself in the small bathroom at the Burrow while everyone else slept. I’d received an invitation from Viktor to join him in Bulgaria, claiming he could see I was unhappy, and he was happy to give me an escape. I’d burned the letter before Ron could see, even though a big part of me wanted nothing more than to pack my bags and go with him regardless of whether it was a temporary reprieve or my ticket out. I didn’t want to drag anyone into our situation, especially when he had every right to be angry with me for my shortcomings. We were engaged for eight months.
In the fall, an article came out exposing Ron’s infidelity. I was relieved; I packed my bags, left my ring on the table and found a place to live that was just mine. I set wards so he wouldn't be allowed in, and I focused on my work, doing everything in my power to avoid him. Apparently, he'd been hooking up with Lavender Brown for months, and she was six months pregnant with his child when the article came out. They got married a month before the birth of their son, Felix. The war had left her the side of her face and neck scarred, but Ron had always loved the attention she gave him. She worshiped the very ground he walked on, made him feel like a king and not like he was just one third of the Golden Trio.
I did therapy, distanced myself from the Weasley family, and focused on advancing my career. I had a lot of ideas I wanted to bring to reality to advance not just the wizarding community but close the enormous gap with the Muggle community as well. Harry still tried to be a friend, but it was hard to be his friend when he was so close to Ron and defended Ron’s every choice. While I was relieved that I didn’t have to marry Ron, Harry seemed to place the blame on me for not being there for Ron and giving too much attention to my work when we all knew Ron was “a bit insecure”. I attended one dinner at the Burrow after I’d moved out, only to have to hear Molly speak of how disappointed she was that our engagement “fell through”, but how happy she was that she was getting a grandbaby so soon.
Harry and I tried having lunch once a week in the Ministry cafeteria, although most of the time it was a silent affair. On a few occasions, Ron had tagged along, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe in his presence. Like his hands were still on me, suffocating me and taking things from me and pinching and squeezing and bruising me. I always ended up sick afterwards, crying and emptying my stomach contents before cleaning myself up and forcing myself to continue with my work. Harry kept trying to rebuild the friendship we all had together, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I would never be able to see Ron as someone I could trust with my friendship again.
My phone ringing snaps me out of my head, and I jolt in the tub, splashing water out the sides as I lean over the top and peek at my phone sitting on the small stool I keep beside the tub.
Theo’s name is flashing on my screen and I sigh, using wand less magic to answer the call and place it on speaker.
“Well hello there princess, you will never guess what I just heard!” Theo’s enthusiastic voice booms through the speaker. “A little birdie told me that a certain Golden Girl is getting married to none other than the most eligible and richest bachelor.”
“Wait, what? Who told you?? I just got the news this morning!”
“The Daily Prophet uploaded a list of everyone's matches, and yours is the headline, baby!” His voice deepens as he takes on a dramatic posh accent before continuing. “Golden Girl and Death Eater: Matched.” He laughs maniacally. “I can't wait to have my two favorite people in the same room.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shriek, hanging up the call and dragging myself out of the tub. After getting dressed in comfortable pajamas and pulling my hair in a bun, I grab the ingredients for a daiquiri and get to mixing.
I knew the news of the match was going to get out, especially with everyone in the country being dragged into it. I just didn’t expect it would be so soon, I mean seriously, not even twenty-four hours had passed! I was hoping I’d have some time to piece everything together in my head and come up with a plan of sorts to navigate around the law, maybe do some research to see if there was a legitimate way out of it, before I had to confront the world knowing I was matched to Draco fucking Malfoy of everyone in the bloody country.
I down my first drink in one go, immediately preparing another.
Chapter Text
How the fuck does one impress a witch like Hermione Granger?
I don't know her favorite flowers or if she even likes flowers. Jewelry? I already had three engagement ring options, maybe a necklace to go with them would be a good addition? Or earrings? Perhaps a bracelet? Should I buy her a villa? A cottage? Build a garden in her honor? Maybe I could find a dragon egg and help her to raise it? Does she even like magical creatures or is she only into Muggle pets?
I'm fucked. I'm truly, thoroughly fucked.
I sit at my desk, staring at the piece of parchment before me, willing it to give me the answer I'm looking for. But the parchment still says the same thing:
Ideal Pairing: Hermione J. Granger
23 year old female, Muggle born.
What the fuck does the J in her name even stand for? I never heard anyone use her middle name and assumed she simply didn't have one. Does she even want this match? No, I doubt it. We were never close, although we did have the occasional run-ins with each other since she was friends with Theo in school, but she always ignored my presence while I tried very hard not to make it obvious I thought she was attractive.
I mean seriously, ever since she punched me in the face all I could think about was wanting her hands on me again. I didn't care if she just wanted to punch me again, I would kneel before her and take it. I'd take whatever I could take to feel her hands on me again, especially back then. But she was never interested. No, she was only interested in Potter and the Weasel, and that short thing with that hulking Bulgarian Krum. I don't know what she ever saw in that one, he looked as dull as a rock and didn't know how to hold a conversation. Not that I tried very hard to have conversations with him, but I was curious as to what she saw in him.
Fuck, I’m off track again. The end of the day is nearing, and I haven't even requested to see her. Should I take her on an extravagant date? Maybe I should arrange for dinner at my favorite restaurant in France? Do I still propose? Would she want to see me on one knee? Frankly, I'd get down on all fours for her, but would she like that? Do I show up uninvited at her home or should I schedule to see her somewhere public?
I place my head in my hands, trying not to pull my hair out at the roots. It shouldn't be this complicated to find a good gift for a woman or come with a plan on how to interact with said woman. I've dated before, I just have to do what I usually would do. Except, this is different. We're being told we have to get married; this isn't the traditional courting nor the quick relationships I make for a night or two of fucking before we go our separate ways. No, she has a reputation to maintain; she's a proper lady and should be treated as such.
Fuck. I need help.
I jump to my feet before I lose my nerve or change my mind, exiting my office and making my way to the training rooms where Potter is sure to be. I can feel more eyes on me than usual as I make my way down the corridor and I straighten my shoulders, keeping my chin high and glaring at anyone who gets in my way. Upon entering the only open training room, I spot Potter talking with Theo in the corner, nodding animatedly while making hand gestures. Theo throws his head back laughing, shaking his head.
I stroll up as casually as I can, clearing my throat. Both of them look at me with shit eating grins on their faces and I clench my fists at my sides. “I take it you've heard of who I've been matched with,” I mutter, choosing to get straight to the point.
“Oh, we've heard,” Theo chuckles, clapping me on the back.
“Great, so grow the fuck up and tell me what she likes. Somehow you two idiots have managed to become friends with her despite the lack of brain cells between the both of you.”
Potter rolls his eyes, scratching the facial hair covering his face. Over the past few years, he's allowed his facial hair to grow in which makes him look more competent for the job and not as child-like. He still wears the same stupid glasses, but at least they're not broken or dirty all the time anymore so it's a small improvement. Since getting married, he's also learned to dress himself and wears button ups and trousers, and sometimes he even manages to comb his hair.
“Insulting us isn't going to get you any favors,” Potter says with a smirk. “Besides, she's going to be your wife, shouldn't you know what she likes already?” he drawls sarcastically.
I glare. “I haven't spoken to her in years.”
“Oi, come on, Potter, he's trying,” Theo cuts in. “I think the Golden Girl deserves a good gift from her soon to be husband since she's going to have to put up with him for the rest of her life.”
I flinch, closing my eyes against the words. She'll be stuck with me the rest of her life.
Fuck.
She probably expected a much better match. She must be so disappointed it's me she ended up with. An ex-Death Eater as a husband for the savior of the wizarding world. Everyone knows Potter and the Weasel wouldn’t have made it this far without her, she was the brains of the entire operation, especially after Dumbledore died. Does she resent me? She testified on my behalf, but she never once looked at me. I still remember watching her through the bars in my cage, willing her to look at me just once. I needed her to know I was sorry; I knew I wasn’t going to make it long in Azkaban. A lot of people were angry at the Malfoy family for their role in Voldemort’s rise, and I was despised for my role in getting Death Eaters into Hogwarts. I might not have killed anyone, but I still had a lot of blood on my hands for those who were tortured and killed after the Carrows took over Hogwarts. I needed her to look at me once to tell her somehow how much I wish I could change the past, how much I wished I could’ve stayed out of the whole thing, how much I wished Potter’s spell had killed me in sixth year.
Instead, I got to stare at the side of her face while she talked so passionately about why I shouldn’t spend the rest of my life in Azkaban. Did she know somehow? Did she somehow know how many regrets I carried over those years? Did she know I wanted to save her when my psychotic aunt was torturing her, that I stepped forward and was lifting my wand, but my mother stopped me? Did she know that I still woke up sick sometimes with her screams echoing in my head? Did she know I still couldn’t step foot in the drawing room, even after it had been fully demolished and remodeled?
“Fine, but I’m only helping because it’s her,” Potter muttered, dragging my attention back to him and out of my memory of the girl with a golden haze. “She has a list at the library of books she’d like, she usually adds to it throughout the year, and we all buy from it on her birthday.”
“Books, Potter? That’s the best you can give me?” I scoff, shaking my head. “Everyone knows she likes books; I want something more personal than that to give her.”
He holds his hands up defensively, blushing. “Look, we haven’t spent as much time together since James was born. Our schedules keep us pretty busy in general, but I know she likes books.”
“And movie marathons with those fruity mixed drinks she makes,” Theo chimes in.
I turn my attention to him, furrowing my brow in confusion. “Movie marathons?”
“Oh, watching multiple films back-to-back. It’s how she usually spends her weekends when she’s got no other plans,” Theo shrugs, pulling his Muggle phone out of his pocket. Why he got one, I still don’t understand.
“Alright, I will work with these very shitty ideas from her two very terrible friends,” I roll my eyes when Theo gives a mock shocked face while pocketing his phone.
“Malfoy,” Potter says sharply.
“What?” I snap, making to walk away and head back to my office.
“Hermione is important to me. Don’t hurt her or you’ll be dealing with me.”
“The same way you dealt with the Weasel after his little tryst?” I stalk up to him, towering over him and glaring down at him. “I would never hurt her or disrespect her, and I certainly wouldn’t befriend anyone who would hurt someone I cared for. It appears you can’t say the same.” I step back, noticing Theo out of the corner of my eye covering his mouth with his fist snickering.
“The circumstances were different,” Potter mutters dumbly. He takes a few steps back rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous way he has. “Just be good to her, yeah?”
He practically flees from the room without waiting for a response, and Theo kneels over with laughter.
“Oh, I think Potter might’ve just shit himself,” he splutters in between fits of laughter. I roll my eyes before stalking out of the training room, heading directly for my office with renewed determination to win her over.
She might not love me, fuck, she might not even like me right now. But I will do whatever it takes to win her over and show her what a real man should treat his woman like. She won’t have to worry about secret relationships going on behind her back, or secret pregnancies, or backstabbing friends and family members.
I will do whatever it takes to make this real.
Notes:
And here is our first Draco POV! I had a lot of fun letting the overthinker in me out with this one. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and am looking forward to continuing this journey with you!
-Gen
Chapter 4: Strawberry Peach Daiquiri and Mozzarella Sticks
Chapter Text
It's been a week since I got the owl delivering the parchment with my match, and I still hadn't seen Draco or left my house. Living in Muggle London, I got to enjoy the benefits of takeout delivery while I focused on looking for any legal way out of this match that wouldn't end up with me having to give up my wand or going to Azkaban.
Sadly, a week of scouring every law book I could get my hands on - thanks to Percy who delivered via floo - and I still hadn't found any loophole. Given the extreme decrease in the population, it was completely legal, and it wasn't the first time this had happened.
I tried finding a way for Draco to fight this too, hoping that maybe pureblood customs would somehow be able to sway the Wizen Gamot into undoing the match, but at the rate things were going there'd only be a handful of pureblood families to be matched to each other, and most were already married off or they were too closely related.
So, after a week of fruitless research, I decided what I needed was a fun night out dancing and drinking in the Muggle world. And who better to do that than with Theo, Pansy, Astoria and Blaise.
Three years ago, I'd gone solo to a club in London and had been shocked to find the former Slytherins drunk at a booth laughing and dancing. Pansy and Astoria had literally been dancing on the table, Theo was whooping and blowing kisses, and Blaise had been staring adoringly at his then fiancé Astoria. I'd been so shocked by the sight of them at a Muggle club that I'd stared for nearly five minutes before Astoria caught sight of me and excitedly jumped off the table and dragged me over.
Theo and Astoria had talked all night about how they'd all been forced to take classes after the war on Muggles and how they had become intrigued with the world outside of magic and ventured into Muggle London to get first hand experience and feed their appetites. After a year, they'd become completely immersed in the world; they owned cellphones, televisions, radios, subscribed to multiple streaming services, and they even had a house together in the countryside. Astoria had gone to culinary school, Pansy had taken some fashion classes while also working at the ministry, Blaise had gotten a mixology license, and Theo had bragged about getting a fishing license in the state of Georgia when he went to visit an aquarium on a whim. It was refreshing seeing the wonder in their eyes at the things they once didn't understand - or once resented - due to their upbringing.
I walk into the same club wearing a short black dress with thin straps and thin strapped heels. I crane my neck in search of any familiar faces and spot Theo walking towards me with his arms wide open. He twirls me in a hug before setting me down, giving me a crooked half smile that shows off his dimples.
“You look amazing,” he says over the music. He offers me an arm and I take it, allowing him to lead me to whatever both he's secured for us tonight.
“As do you,” I reply with a soft smile.
Theo has always been attractive. With emerald green eyes, smooth fair skin, a sculpted jaw, tousled curly brown hair, a lean but fit build, and the way he dresses like he's expected at an important meeting no matter the occasion, it's hard not to stare or be drawn in by him - as evident by the many women and men who stare at him everywhere we go. Even a scar running from his cheek to the top of his nose doesn't diminish his beauty; if anything it adds a sharpness to his otherwise friendly and youthful facial features that makes him stand out. It doesn't hurt that he's also got a great sense of humor, but he can still be serious when the situation calls for it. He's beautiful in the most inviting way.
“Everyone else is already here, along with a few new friendly faces,” he continued as we rounded the corner of another booth. “Luna is here, I invited her to try and get to know each other better in a more casual setting.”
“Wait,” I grab tighter to his arm as I stop, causing him to turn to face me. He's got a soft blush coloring his cheeks and a goofy smile spreading as he nods. “You and Luna?!”
“Yes, me and Luna. We've been having meals together all week and she's,” he pauses and exhales a contented sigh, “truly something. I mean she's so funny and interesting and she's so easy to talk to about anything; she doesn't mock me for what I like and she doesn't care about my past or my family's issues.”
I nod in understanding, giving his arm a light squeeze before we continue walking. “That is so great, Theo. I'm so happy you were matched with someone so great and-”
I freeze when we reach our table, stumbling over my feet and nearly falling on my face. Theo's hands wrap around my waist, steadying me. Distantly, I can hear him say my name but I don't respond.
I'm glued to my spot as I stare at Draco Malfoy, in a Muggle club, sitting in a booth with a cocktail and spinning the little tiny umbrella between his teeth as he nods along to whatever Pansy is talking about.
His platinum blonde hair is longer than he kept it in school, now in a textured fringe that’s short on the sides and long on the top, swept back. He's wearing a white button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, showing off arms covered in tattoos down to his fingers. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, giving a peek at more tattoos beneath it and the Azkaban prisoner tattoo on the side of his neck. When he opens his mouth to talk, I catch sight of something shiny in his mouth and my eyes widen at the realization that he's got a tongue piercing. His face is still all sharp angles, but filled out in a way that doesn't look sickly like he did in sixth year and during his trials. The way he carries himself screams confident and rebellious.
Pansy says something and his attention shifts to me, grey eyes boring into me as he gets to his feet and walks towards Theo and I.
“What the fuck, Theo,” I mutter. “You didn't mention inviting him.”
“I know, I'm sorry, but I figured you would've bailed and honestly you might as well get the confrontation or whatever is going to go down with now.” He rushes his sentence out as he softly pushes me forward, one hand still firmly on my hip as if he's trying to keep me from bolting - which he very well might be.
We stop in front of Draco and his eyes shift from my face to Theo's hand on my hip, to his face, before settling back on me. Theo's hand drops and I fight the urge to fidget with my dress, regretting that I wore what Pansy calls my “get laid dress” tonight. Not that I was planning on leaving with anyone, but I wanted to enjoy a night feeling wanted and beautiful.
“Granger,” Malfoy's voice cuts through the music and my thoughts suddenly. His brows are furrowed and he's watching me like he's waiting for something.
“Sorry?” I say, looking at Theo beside me who's grinning from ear to ear like a clown.
“He asked if you wanted a drink, Princess,” Theo snickers.
“Oh, um, yeah, I'll have a-”
“Strawberry peach slushed daiquiri,” Draco finished. He gives me a small smile before nodding and walking towards the bar, Blaise following behind him quickly.
“What did you tell him?” I round on Theo, crossing my arms.
“Just what drinks you prefer and what bar food you like.” He holds his hands up, feigning fear even while smiling widely. “He just wants to get to know you, friends first and all that.”
I scoff, crossing my arms and walking the rest of the way to the booth before squeezing in beside Pansy. Draco’s drink is directly in front of me and I fight the urge to move it, choosing instead to focus on Luna who's sitting beside Astoria sipping her own drink. Theo slides in next to her and places his arm on the back of the bench, his fingers brushing her shoulder while he leans into the conversation between the two witches.
“This is going to be so much fun,” Pansy says sarcastically.
Draco
After ordering Hermione's drink and a basket of mozzarella sticks, I wait at the counter for a few minutes with Blaise, nervously tapping the counter with my family ring. I spent the last week trying to learn everything that I could about Muggle technology, accepting Astoria and Theo's help with using a cellphone, installing multiple televisions in my home, paying for something called streaming services to watch things, and even adding some Muggle appliances throughout the manor to prepare for her to move in when we're inevitably married. I wanted her to be as comfortable as possible and know that my home was hers.
What I wasn't prepared for, however, was how overstimulating going to a Muggle club would be. The music is too loud, the building is too crowded with too many sweaty bodies, the strobe lights are overwhelming, and to top it off Granger chose to wear the tiniest piece of clothing I'd ever seen her wear. I didn't even think the ridiculous scrap of clothing could be called a dress.
I haven't seen her up close in so many years, and it took me a while to figure out how to use my tongue to say anything. Her brown eyes were rimmed in smoky dark makeup that made her eyes pop against the fairness of her skin, accentuated by her arched eyebrows and long lashes. Her full lips were glossy with a rosy tint, drawing more attention to how plump and kissable they were. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry aside from silver stud earrings, but it was still difficult to keep my eyes solely on her face and not notice her cleavage that was desperately trying to spill out the square neckline of her satin black dress.
“You seem nervous,” Blaise comments beside me, grabbing his and Astoria’s drink.
I grab Hermione's drink and the mozzarella stick basket, nodding. “I haven't spoken to her since we were in school. I'm not sure what I'm even supposed to say now, or how to broach the subject of our upcoming nuptials.”
Blaise nods, pursing his lips as we walk towards the booth where they're sitting. “Yeah, I can't help you there, mate.”
I nod, setting the drink in front of Hermione along with the appetizer basket before scooting into the booth beside her. She tenses when I sit, and I make a small adjustment so I'm not sitting as close. She's sitting half turned towards Pansy, but she slides my drink closer to me and gives me a tentative half smile before reaching for her own drink.
“Thank you,” she says softly. She bites her lip, looking down as she grips the cup with both hands.
“Of course,” I reply. I glance around the table, trying to figure out what the next step is. Astoria and Luna are having a conversation I can't hear, but both Blaise and Theo have their arms casually around their ladies.
Should I do the same? Am I allowed to touch her? Does she want me to touch her like that? We still haven't spoken about the whole marriage situation, how the fuck do I approach this?
Okay, I'm overthinking. This is a casual setting, surely it'll be fine?
I try to casually bring my arm to rest on the seat behind her, but even I can tell my movements are stiff. I watch her as she nods along as Pansy tells her about a recent raid they had, but I catch the moment she tenses and scoots forward slightly when she feels my arm behind her. Her leg is bouncing at a ridiculous pace under the table and she gulps down her drink in just a few sips, clumsily setting the glass down and nearly knocking mine over in the process.
Maybe I'm making her nervous? I can only think of one occasion where we were close, and she'd had complete control as she sent her first flying to my face.
I lean forward, trying to come up with anything casual to say when she jumps at my advance, her knee hitting the table roughly. She looks at me over her shoulder, her body still angled towards Pansy, skin paling and her eyes wide with...not nerves.
Fuck.
She’s scared of me. Of course she’s scared of me, she was an angel in battle against the demons I worked for. I was an inconsiderate ass to her in school, always trying to put her down because she was so effortlessly good and excelled at everything. I don't deserve to be in the same room as her, breathing her air, wanting to learn more about her, wanting her. She deserves better than a coward ex Death Eater and convict.
I instantly pull my arm away, standing to give her the space she so desperately wants.
I can feel everyone at the table watching us, but I keep my eyes on her, waiting to see what she needs from me.
I'm not going to hurt you. Please let me atone for all my mistakes, you're my salvation. I need to wipe that dear from your eyes, please tell me what I need to do.
None of the words I want to say come out, and we just stare at each other. Her eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and a knot clenches my stomach so tightly, I feel my knees weaken.
“Hermione, can you help me in the bathroom?” Astoria's soft voice cuts through the tension and silence. She steps in front of me, but she's short enough to where my view of Hermione isn't blocked.
Hermione jumps to her feet quickly, nodding and speed walking past me. I watch Astoria and her walk away, disappearing into the thick crowd.
“Don't take it personal, Draco,” Pansy says softly. “She was like that with us too those first few months, it's probably residual trauma from the war.”
Theo nods, giving me one of his pitying looks.
“She'll come around, you just have to show her you can be soft. Your hands were never meant for damage,” Luna says absently. She watches me for a minute before smiling softly. “You'll fix it for her.”
“Fix what?” I've never much liked the curious way she talks like everything is a mystery to be solved. She has always been too innocent, and I certainly didn't expect her to make it through the war, especially after Bellatrix got a hold of her. I tried to sneak her a potion to take her own life, but she'd refused, claiming help would be coming soon. I guess it's a good thing I couldn't convince her she was wrong or she wouldn't be sitting here today making my best friend look like cupid shit him in the ass.
“Her misconception about love,” she says with a shrug. “Love isn't about destruction and greed. You can teach her.”
I scoff, slipping back into the booth, but this time taking a seat beside Theo so I'll be across from her instead of beside her. If she even comes back.
“She could never love me.”
“Give it some time,” Blaise says. “She's been through a lot with that cheating knucklehead.”
I nod, tapping my ring on the table as I wait for Hermione to come back.
***
When Hermione and Astoria return to the booth a few minutes later, Hermione's eyes are slightly puffy and she's avoiding even looking in my direction. Astoria sits next to her, giving me an apologetic look. I give her a small smile, shaking my head to let her know it's okay.
An hour later, all the witches have had way too much to drink. Hermione is flushed pink from the liquor and her eyes have a hazy gleam to them as she claps her hands on the table, smiling so wide I'm shocked it doesn't hurt.
“I love this song, come dance with me!” She stands on the bench, clumsily standing on the table and hopping off to run off to the dance floor. Luna follows her, spinning and twirling herself to her side. Pansy and Astoria both clumsily make their way over, holding onto each other and laughing.
I watch with Blaise and Theo, arms crossed over my chest. Hermione sways her hips to the music, stretching her arms over head and closing her eyes with a smile grazing her lips. She's glowing under the strobe lights, making it impossible for me to keep my eyes off her. When she starts grinding her ass against Pansy’s front with Astoria grinding her own to Hermione's front I choke on my saliva.
“What the fuck?”
Theo chuckles. “Muggle dancing, Granger taught them years ago.”
“ That is dancing?” I ask incredulously, shifting to hide the growing tent in my trousers. I never in my life thought I'd see Hermione Granger moving in such a provocative manner, especially in a public place or with the girl I lost my virginity to.
Astoria twirls away from Hermione, grabbing Luna's hands and spinning in a circle with her. Hermione leans forward slightly, still grinding on Pansy and her dress rises, exposing the curve of her uncovered ass before straightening back up and spinning away.
The front of my pants are at risk of ripping with the strain of my cock in them. Would she dance like that with me?
She can't even stand you, I think to myself.
The song finished and the witches make their way back, laughing and giggling drunkenly.
Hermione's eyes lock on mine for a split second before she sits across from me, giving me a tight lipped smile before she reaches for a mozzarella stick, holding it out to me. I take it and watch as she grabs another, dipping it in the red dipping sauce cup it came with before waiting for me to do the same. I keep my eyes on hers as I dip the greasy, crispy stick in the red sauce, waiting for her to take a bite of hers before I follow with my own.
I've never had one, and am shocked by the crispiness of the stick followed immediately by the warm, gooey core of the mozzarella stick. The sauce adds a burst of slightly tangy and acidic flavor. I smile down at the mozzarella stick, nodding at how surprisingly different and good it is. When I look up, Hermione has a curious half smile on her face, but she quickly averts her gaze and looks at the glass of water I had brought her an hour ago. She leans forward and uses the straw to take her first sip from the glass.
I'm sorry you're stuck with me. I'm sorry you're shackled to me, but I promise I will do everything in my power to make it good for you. I want to be good for you.
Part of me wishes she could hear my thoughts right now. Part of me is embarrassed at how much I want to make her give me a genuine smile.
“Hey, I'm going to make sure Luna gets home alright,” Theo says nearly two hours later, scooping the sleeping witch into his arms. “Hermione, Draco will take you home.”
I am?
She looks at him with a slightly panicked expression, before looking at me. “You really don't have to, I don't live far, it's really not a long walk and I have a stop to make and I'm sure you're plenty busy and-”
“I don't mind,” I cut her off before she could ramble the rest of the night. In her drunken state, she probably wouldn't be able to apparate home, and a lady walking alone at night is just not appropriate when I'm perfectly capable of walking her. Besides, even I know the threat on her life, and if Greyback or Dolohov somehow know her whereabouts, I would prefer if she wasn't alone lest she risk getting snatched by the two psychopaths who've been hunting her for years.
A few years after the war, we'd managed to capture some prisoners who were too happy to bargain for their lives. They told us the plans of the surviving Death Eaters (kill the Golden Trio), recruit new members (which proved to be difficult when they were being hunted by the Aurors), spilled the names of everyone who was part of the new organization, and a few of them even provided memories showing Greyback’s rant to personally get his hands on Hermione. Since the Malfoy Manor incident, he'd developed an obsession and made every werewolf he turned become familiar with her scent - using one of her old scarves from during the war, placed in a stasis charm to keep her scent fresh and undisturbed - creating his own team to hunt her down.
Hermione was of course aware of the threat on her life, but she refused private security. The dimwit Harry hadn't been able to convince her, most likely because he didn't try really hard or because she didn't trust him. Either way, I'd made arrangements behind her back to secure protection. After talking to the least annoying Weasley, Charlie had come in from Romania and convinced her to get strong wards around her home. Unbeknownst to her, the wards will trip an alarm if a werewolf steps foot within a five mile radius of her home, and I will get an alarm of such breach and have enough time to respond to the possible threat. It's only happened three times, and she was completely unaware of those breaches since I'd been able to handle the situation quickly and quietly.
“Fine,” she sighs the word and nods, leaning back against the back of her chair and tilting her head up. “But I'm stopping for pizza.”
“Anything you need,” I say softly. She tenses and purses her lips, but doesn't say anything else. Theo gives me a terse nod before walking out with Luna. Blaise and Astoria stand and he helps her get into her coat, helping a half asleep Pansy to do the same.
“I'm staying at Zabini’s tonight,” Pansy announces a little too loud before bursting into a fit of giggles.
I roll my eyes, nodding at the trio. “Have a goodnight, you three.”
I stand and give Astoria a soft kiss on either cheek, doing the same with Pansy - her head bumping so hard into my chin I end up hitting my tongue - when she suddenly jumped and declared she wanted croissants when they got home. Blaise grabbed onto both witches and they walked out of the club, leaving Hermione and I alone.
She was still sitting, her legs crossed and her hands nervously fidgeting on the table. “Are you sure you have nowhere else to be?”
I nod, offering her my hand to help her stand. She eyes it warily before taking my hand, and I exhale in relief that she'll at least let me help her. I grab my coat off the back of my chair and hold it open in front of her, watching as she slowly turns and allows me to drape it over her shoulders. “I'm going to adjust your hair,” I say softly.
I'm so close to her right now that her vanilla scent engulfs me. She's staring straight ahead, a rosy flush creeping onto her cheeks when I slowly lift my hand and move her hair out from under my coat and off to one side. Her chest is rushing and falling quickly, her lips pursed and brow furrowed in concentration. I let my fingers linger in her hair for a few seconds before I pull my hand back and step beside her, holding out my arm for her to hold. She loops her arm through mine, her fingers tightening on my bicep. We walk slowly out of the still crowded bar and into the cold night air.
We walk slowly in the direction of her house. Her house isn't far, really only a twenty minute walk, but she's stumbling and watching her feet with so much focus, I motion to an alley after just five minutes. “I could apparate us closer,” I offer softly.
She watches me, fidgeting on her feet as she considers my offer. “I'm not sure the wards will let you in,” she says finally.
“I can apparate outside of them.”
“Okay,” she replies quietly. “Thank you, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have drank so much, I hate being an inconvenience.”
“Do not apologize, you're far from an inconvenience. I don't mind, you were having fun.”
She nods absentmindedly, stepping closer to me for side along apparition.
“Can I hold your waist?”
She nods again, looking up at me nervously as she drops her arm from my bicep. I curl my arm around her waist slowly, pulling her closer to my side - mostly under the guise of preventing splinching or leaving her behind, but also craving any physical contact she's willing to give me. She loops her arms around my waist, still looking up at me. I give her a reassuring smile before we disapparate with a soft pop, landing at the edge of her gravel driveway behind a fence of tall brick.
She lives in a cozy two-story cottage made of painted white brick, with the nearest neighbor being nearly three-quarters of a mile from her home. It has black framed arched windows throughout, a black painted door, perfectly trimmed hedges, and planters hanging from every window.
She unwraps her arms from my waist and steps back, pink tinging the tops of her cheeks as she looks down at her feet, kicking the gravel with the tip of her heel. She opens her mouth multiple times with no sound coming out before she sighs, looks up at me and clasps her hands in front of her.
“Would you like to come in for some coffee? Or tea?”
I nod, trying not to seem too enthusiastic lest I scare her off. She nods slowly, reaching forward and taking my hand. “I have to pull you through the wards,” she explains as she walks backwards past the open gate. Once we’re both through her wards, she drops my hand and turns away, continuing up the walkway to her front door. I follow a few steps behind, trying not to look at her ass but failing miserably.
Chapter 5: Alcohol Butterflies and Greasy Pizza
Chapter Text
My hands shake as I try to unlock the door, making me miss the key hole multiple times before I finally manage to unlock it and step inside. I motion for Draco to come in and he does so slowly, still keeping a respectable distance from me.
I'm embarrassed and feel guilty for my reaction at the club; hating the guilty look he had after I'd flinched so obviously. I hadn't meant to, truly, I know he wouldn't hurt me and he was probably just trying to get comfortable - he's so tall that his knee brushing mine or his arm leaning across the back of seats is normal for him when he sits. I was just stuck thinking about how we're supposed to get married and how scared I am about the whole thing, remembering how I'd felt just as trapped when I'd been engaged to Ron, that for a split second it wasn't Draco I saw but Ron glowering down at me, telling me to look happier and reprimanding me when I was too tense or didn't “look in love”. I always had a role to play, and getting married to Draco felt like I'd traded one set of shackles for another.
Being from a pure blood family, I'm sure he had expectations of what a proper wife was like and after doing research, I was dreading it. I didn't want to host galas, or give up my career to raise kids, or take part in blood magic, or take etiquette classes. I also was really, really not looking forward to having to move in with him at the same manor where I was tortured for hours or officially meet his mother and get to know her. If she loved Lucius, chances are she had the same mindset and prejudiced views as him, and I didn't want to see the disappointment and disgust on her face when she saw me “dirtying” up her home.
Draco walks to the living room and immediately walks to my fireplace, studying the books on the shelf above it. He picks one up and flips through it before seeing it down, turning to look at the rest of the living room. I have a small beige sectional in the center of the room with a few throw pillows and cozy blankets on it. Directly above the books on the fireplace is a mounted television, with built-in shelves on either side holding DVDs, more books, a few plants, a small radio, and a couple trinkets. The lights in this room have multiple settings, and because I'm more than a little drunk and it's late, they're dim.
“It's cozy,” Draco says softly. “Although,” he walks closer to me, giving me a half smile and standing a few feet from me with his hands in his pockets before continuing, “I expected a lot more books.”
I laugh softly, looking down and shaking my head. “I converted one of the rooms upstairs into a library, these are just books I've been meaning to read or that I tend to revisit often.”
“Well, that sounds more like you,” he says with a chuckle.
My stomach flutters slightly, probably from the alcohol induced butterflies, and I slip his coast off my shoulders before draping it over the back of the couch. “Would you like some pizza?”
He tilts his head to the side, confusion furrowing his brows.
“Never mind, you want some,” I conclude before striding into the kitchen. When I bought this house, I wanted something more on the natural side with open rooms and a lot of natural light. After being on the run and having to hide, I wanted to feel open and free. The kitchen cabinets are a very pale shade of green, and the countertops are the lightest wood, giving the room an airy feel. There’s a window directly over the sink overlooking the backyard, and the dining room is directly off the kitchen, separated only by the kitchen island. My dining table is the eight-seater table my parents had when I was growing up; one of the few pieces that survived after the war in their destroyed home. It’s long and made of mahogany, and after a bit of magic it’s just as smooth and shiny as I remembered it being when I was a child.
I pull the pizza box out of the fridge and with a few warming charms, get it as fresh as it would be if it’d just come fresh out of the oven. After plating it on paper plates, I send them floating to the table with a bit of wandless magic. “Usually I do wine with pizza, but I think we’ll have to settle for water tonight.” I lean into the fridge, trying to see if maybe I have some soda in there even though I know I don’t. I haven’t gone grocery shopping or even ordered anything delivered in nearly two weeks, so our options are ridiculously limited. “I do not recommend coffee and pizza, the flavors clash and–” I snap my mouth shut just as I close the fridge door and come face to face with Draco’s chest. I take a step back, my brows drawn together as I squint at the top of his tattoo, but I can’t quite make out what it is.
“Water is okay,” he says softly. “Would you like some help?”
“Uh, no, I got it.” I turn and fish out two cups from the cupboard, sending them to fill themselves with some ice and water from the fridge. “You can sit,” I add, motioning to the table where I set the plates earlier. They’re at one end of the table each, and I frown at how far apart they are, but say nothing.
He approaches the table and grabs one of the plates before walking to the other end of the table and sitting beside it. “I was hoping we could talk.”
I stumble on my way to the table, sighing as I lift my foot and take off my heels one at a time without having to bend. Bending would probably send me sprawling face first onto the floor, and I was not in the mood to show Draco Malfoy my panties. “I was hoping we could put it on the calendar for another day,” I say with a shrug. “I’m tired and I’m drunk and if you want to talk about this repopulation bullshit, I’d rather table it for when I’ve slept, bathed, and had time to mentally prepare myself.”
He pulls out my chair and waits for me to sit before pushing it in and taking the seat to my right where he put his plate. He looks at the pizza on his plate like he’s waiting for it to come to life, biting his lip. “Utensils?”
I snort a laugh, instantly embarrassed by the sound and covering my mouth. He looks up at me with his brow quirked, a smile playing on his lips. “Not a word,” I threaten with a pointed finger in his direction. “And no utensils for pizza, you use your hands.”
I pick up my warm, gooey, delicious slice and wait for him to follow, biting my lip against a smile as his facial expression shifts from amused to confused to concern before he’s holding the slice in his long fingers, folding the edges slightly before lifting it.
“And now you eat,” I say enthusiastically before taking a bite of my own. He watches me for a second while I chew before he does the same, taking a generous bite before lowering it back onto the plate. I watch his face the same way I watched him eat the mozzarella sticks at the club.
His cheeks are flushed, and his pupils are slightly dilated as he studies the pizza, chewing thoroughly before going for another bite and nodding. “Okay, this is a lot better than I expected. Thank you,” he says before going for a third bite.
I smirk and continue eating, watching the way he wipes the corners of his lips between every bite. We eat in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few minutes, and I grab each another slice of pizza when he’s nearly done with his. The drunken haze in my brain makes it hard to pull my eyes from him, so I just continue to watch him as he excitedly eats his second slice. It reminds me of our younger years in Hogwarts when he’d get treat boxes from his mom and he’d get that twinkle in his steel eyes as he dug through it and sampled it. Every week, his mom would send him a box of sweets, and every week he’d be just as excited as the first. In classes, he’d get called out for sneaking bites of the treats in between tasks.
“Mr.Malfoy, surely you must know that eating while potion brewing is not recommended?” Professor Snape would drawl, scowling as Draco licked the chocolate off his fingers with a pop.
“Sorry, Professor, won’t happen again.” Draco would reply, his table mates laughing and snickering. Professor Snape knew it was a lie, but he never said anything else.
Draco could always tell when I was watching him, but he never said anything. First and second year he’d give me a challenging look or quirk his brows at me, but now he’d just look back at me. Occasionally, a hint of a smirk would lift the edges of his lips, but most of the time he’d just watch me watch him , until Pansy or Theo would pull him into conversation again. I would look away and pretend the tint on my cheeks was from the heat of whatever we were brewing and not the fact that his stare was so intense; his grey eyes like molten pools of silver that just sucked you in and made you feel like you’d drown under his attention. Even from a distance, his presence was overwhelming and powerful. Even when we were young, he moved with confidence and poise that was impossible to ignore, like he was royalty and we were all his subjects.
“Gets away with everything, that one,” Ron would complain with a scoff.
I’d nod absentmindedly, looking back at the potions before me and trying to ignore the feel of his eyes on me and the heat on my cheeks.
“May I take you to dinner tomorrow?” Draco’s voice cuts through my memories, and I nearly jump out of my seat, feeling like I was caught gawking at him.
“Dinner?” I squeak, clearing my throat and looking down at my grease covered paper plate. “Yeah, sure, I think that’d be fine.”
“Good, I can make a reservation and pick you up. Do you have a preference? I can get us a reservation anywhere.”
I shrug, thinking. If he wants to talk about the inevitable, then a public setting wouldn’t work. Our match alone has been getting so much attention on the Daily Prophet, and I don’t want it to seem like we’re on a date and just jumping on board when I still have my reservations and I’m certain he does too. “Actually, do you mind if we do it here? I could cook or order some take-away?”
“That would be okay,” he murmurs. “Host’s choice, I’m intrigued. I didn’t expect Muggle food to be as good as it is,” he admits reluctantly.
I smile and nod, biting my lip. “Well, I guess I can introduce you to Chinese tomorrow?"
He nods. “Okay, great, so that’s settled. Dinner and then we can talk?”
I nod, my fingers fidgeting in my lap again. “Dinner and then we talk,” I agree.
He clears his throat, standing and adjusting the sleeves on his shirt. “Well, I will leave you to rest. I’ll be here tomorrow at 6?”
I nod, standing to walk him out. “You can come through the floo tomorrow, I’ll make sure it’s open and I’ll grant you access to it. Or if you prefer to apparate, you’ve been let through the wards already, so you can just come right over.”
“Thank you,” he says softly. We stop in front of the door, both of us hesitating. He looks down at his feet, pursing his lips and opening his mouth once, twice, then shaking his head before looking up at me. “I look forward to dinner tomorrow, Granger. Thank you for a lovely night.” He holds out his hand and when I reluctantly hand it over, he plants a kiss on my knuckles, his grey eyes boring into mine before he drops my hand and straightens up again.
He walks out and disapparates on the spot, leaving me glued to the doorway with a pounding heart, a flutter in my stomach - that I am still convinced is from alcohol - and my cheeks burning.
That was unexpectedly sexy, and also slightly romantic and not at all how I’d imagined his lips would feel on me. I mean, I didn’t imagine it often, but when I thought of his lips I never thought they’d be kissing my knuckles. Wishful thinking and a childhood crush had me hoping maybe one day he’d kiss my cheek or he’d kiss me the way he used to kiss Pansy when he’d fly over on his broom during Quidditch matches. Would his lips feel as soft and warm on my lips? Would he kiss my lips as softly as he kissed my knuckles?
No, he’d never want to kiss me. I’m not his type, and that’s probably why he hesitated so much before even kissing my knuckles. It’s probably some polite gesture he learned, and tomorrow when we talk about business marriage arrangement, it’ll be clear and set clear boundaries. There’d be no intimacy because it’s simply a business arrangement. No romance, no intimacy, no kissing. At some point we’d have to do whatever has to be done to produce an heir, but I’m sure he’d recommend some form of non-contact way for us to produce said heir and never speak of it.
This whole thing is business, he’s just doing his part. With pureblood traditions, there’s ways he has to present himself and he needs to seem at least a little interested in his wife - business or not. There is no need for me to be flustered or flattered by a mere kiss on the knuckles.
I shake my head and close the door, leaning my back against it and sliding down the door. I hug my knees to my chest and lean my head back on the door, sighing.
I have no idea how to be with a man anymore. I haven’t had sex in nearly three years, minus that little near moment with Theo.
I’m fucked.
I get up slowly, wiping nonexistent dust off on my dress. I just need sleep and then in the morning I can come up with a game plan for how to negotiate this whole thing going forward.
Chapter 6: Peonies and Macarons
Notes:
Hey everyone! Here's the next chapter. It took me a while because my daughter was sick with HFM and disinfecting took forever. I hope you all enjoy this chapter though!
Thank you for the comments and kudos (I just learned what those are), they mean the world to me!
-Gen
Chapter Text
I wake up with the worst hangover and my phone ringing somewhere in my room. After slapping my hand over my bedside table and coming up empty-handed, I groan, burrowing my face deeper into the pillow. “Accio phone,” I snap with my hand open, ready to catch the phone when it lands in my hand. I roll onto my back and hit the answer button, not even bothering to open my eyes as I bring the phone to my ear.
“What?” I snap, irritated at having been woken up so suddenly.
“Well that answers my question, you did not get laid,” Pansy snickers on the other end. “Seriously, Granger, you've got to get some dick soon. Your vagina is going to start growing cobwebs.”
“Is that why Theo had Malfoy take me home?” I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes and kicking my feet off the side of the bed.
“That's why I would've had Draco take you home,” she mutters. “Theo just wanted to take his little girlfriend home. He, unlike you, did get laid. Called this morning and wouldn't shut up about it.”
I roll my eyes, making my way out of my room and downstairs, stomach grumbling. I pull the medicine cabinet above the stove open and grab out a hangover potion, downing it in one gulp. “Well, I'm not interested in Malfoy like that, and he's not interested in me. If it weren't for this marriage law, we probably would never have even had drinks together.”
“You never know, you probably thought the same of us and look at you. Monthly drinks in Muggle clubs,” she says with a laugh. “Draco was always part of our group in Hogwarts and you still came around to spend time with Theo every once in a while, he's just been busier as an adult.”
“That was different,” I argue. “Hogwarts was Hogwarts, him coming out to a Muggle club never even crossed my mind in the realm of possibilities of where one might run into him. We've been spending time there for years and he's never joined until now.”
“Well, he wasn't engaged to you before now.”
I sputter, coughing and shaking my head. “We are not engaged.”
“You're getting married ,” Pansy says matter of factly. “Also, I'm coming over with croissants and coffee so open your door.”
“It's a business arrangement, not an actual marriage” I say, walking to the door and pulling it open. I'm grateful I won't have to figure out what to make for breakfast, because the thought of cooking makes me nauseous.
Pansy appears in the doorway, phone between her shoulder and ear and hands full with a tray holding four coffees and a brown paper bag that smells divine. I hang up and reach to help her carry the coffee in.
“Four coffees?”
“Two for me, two for you. You're bitchy when you're hungover,” she shrugs like it's common knowledge. I roll my eyes, walking to the kitchen with her close on my heels.
While I'm dressed in my cow print sleep shorts and a cropped tank, Pansy is dressed like she's ready to walk fashion week. After the war, she let her hair grow to just past her shoulders but kept her bangs. Today, she was dressed in a short, dark grey suit dress with knee high black leather boots, a white pearl clip holding half her hair up, and pearl earrings paired with a pearl necklace to accessorize. Slightly shorter than me most days, but today she’s my height with her heeled boots. She wears a bright red lip, and just a small line of eyeliner on top of her eyes; since becoming an Auror, she doesn’t wear much makeup, but her skin is so flawless that it doesn't even make a difference.
“Did he say that?”
“What?” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee and moaning in delight at the delicious heat.
“Draco. Did he say it's just business?” She looks down at her manicured hands, then reaches into the bag and grabs a chocolate drizzled croissant, placing it on a plate and sliding it to me.
“No, but he didn't have to. We're meeting tonight anyway to talk about the whole thing.”
“You're going on a date?”
“No, he's coming here,” I elaborate with a wave of my hand. “Why didn't you marry him?” I blurt the question a little too loudly - and slightly accusatory - since it’s been on my mind since our match was made.
She raises a brow at me, smirking. “And why would I marry him?”
“Well you were together in school,” I say slowly. “There were rumors your families had arranged for the two of you to get married when school let out.”
She cackles, shaking her head. “Well we're both glad that arrangement was called off, both of us were interested in other people. We used each other for experience, it was a mutual understanding and there are no hard feelings.”
“So who are you matched with?”
“Percy Weasley,” she says slowly, dragging out the syllables. She takes a bite of her croissant, smirking, awaiting my reaction.
I gape, mouth hanging open as I stare at her. She keeps eating her croissant, taking a sip of her coffee when she's finished and grinning at me.
“And you'd rather marry him and have babies with him, than Malfoy?”
“He's yummy,” Pansy shrugs. “Besides, I see him all the time at the Ministry and he's not nearly as annoying or dimwitted as his brother Ron.”
I flinch at the sound of his name, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder for him. Even after so many years, I get nervous that he's just going to pop up if someone says his name around me, and it feels even stranger when it's uttered in my house.
“He really did a number on you,” Pansy says softly.
“No,” I say in what I hope is a stern voice. “I don't want to talk about him, please.”
She nods, pursing her lips. She watches me for a minute before clapping her hands on her lap and standing. “So, a date with Draco tonight, what are you wearing? I really hope this isn't it because those pajamas are hideous,” she says with a wrinkle in her nose.
“Hey, leave my pajamas alone. They're comfortable,” I add defensively. “And it's not a date, it's a business meeting.”
She starts walking to my room and I follow her after grabbing the tray of coffees, sighing. Last time she looked through my closet to help me decide what to wear for an actual date (with Viktor Krum, who I knew wouldn't care what I wore), she ended up deciding nothing was good enough and dragged me shopping for three hours . I was so tired and so sore from trying on dozens of outfits, I nearly cancelled my date just so I could sleep. I was grateful I hadn't because Vik was just what I needed to get myself comfortable and confident enough to go out on dates, even if things didn't work out between us due to the distance between us and our busy schedules. I'd had a few dates since then, but nothing really led anywhere. Probably my fault honestly, I've always been too picky and I don't like to have sex on the first (or even third) date.
“Really? Because he called this morning asking what he should wear for a date with Hermione Granger at her house,” she says as she swings open the door to my walk-in closet and starts shuffling through everything.
“Wait, wait, he said that? He thinks this is a date?”
“Brightest witch of her age, my behind. Yes, catch up woman! Now, Draco likes how you look in blue and red, but he's always been curious about you in green since he never really saw you wear it,” she looks through my dresses, tutting and shaking her head. “We may have to go shopping and-”
“Nope, not happening. If you're choosing what I wear, it needs to come out of my closet. I'm not having a repeat of last time, and this isn't a date, so it doesn't matter what he likes.” I cross my arms, trying to make myself look immovable.
She rolls her eyes, sighing deeply before turning to me. “Look, we need to talk. Draco is one of my best and oldest friends. And because you've made it into my limited list of close friends, I feel it is perfectly acceptable for me to have this discussion with you.”
She pauses before motioning for me to follow her as she walks to my bed, sitting on the rumpled sheets and waiting for me to join her. Nerves make my stomach clench and I resist the urge to bite my nails. When I join her on the bed, she takes my hand into her own, facing forward for a few seconds before turning to me with a contemplative look in her eyes. “I don't know what you've been through, but I know something - someone - did something. I don't know if it's residual trauma from the war, a bad relationship, or something else,” she inhales before continuing. “But I swear to you, I will make an unbreakable vow if you ask it of me…” her eyes search mine before she continues, “Draco will not hurt you. You will be the safest, most powerful witch in the world with him by your side. I know he was a total ass in school, and I know that you may have a hard time trusting him, but he can be so good to you if you give yourself and him the chance to have a good marriage.”
A tear runs down my cheek, and I wipe it away furiously, heart beating loudly in my ears, palms sweating. “Neither of us chose this, not really. Marriage or prison or losing our wands isn’t a choice. I don't want to do it,” I whisper. “Pans, I don't know if I can go through with it. I can't give up the only piece of control I have left.” What if he uses it against me like Ron? What if he traps me under lock and key in his Manor?
“Who was he?” Pansy asks softly, rubbing circles on the top of my palm.
I shake my head. “Nobody,” it comes out too quickly and I pull my hand from hers before she notices the tremble. “It's from the war, like you said, being tortured in the home of who I'm intended to marry is traumatic.” I talk too fast, searching my room for a distraction. This conversation is too dangerous, if he finds out I said anything, he'll kill me. He'll kill my parents. He's always dangled their lives in front of me, and Pansy would certainly not keep quiet about this. She’s smart, she knows I’ve only dated a few people, and nobody serious since coming into their friend group. “Please,” I beg on a broken sob. “It's from the war,” I insist.
“Okay, okay, we don't have to talk about it,” Pansy reassures me, getting in my line of sight with her face scrunched in concern. “I'm here whenever you want to talk about it, or not talk about it. I'm here for you, Hermione, and you should know, I have no problem killing people who hurt my friends. So whenever you need me, if you need me, I’m here. You’re stuck with me”
I give a weak laugh, nodding. She pulls me into her arms suddenly, squeezing me tightly. “I love you,” she says softly into my hair.
“I love you,” I whisper back.
After a few minutes, my cries have subsided and we're back in the closet laying out options. Of the three dresses Pansy picked out, I settled on a pale blue mid-thigh length dress with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves paired with tan flats. Pansy heads off to work, leaving me with roughly four hours until Draco arrives for our dinner. I spend it cleaning, going over the paperwork outlining the specifics of the marriage decree and highlighting what I want to discuss with Draco, and making a list with questions and concerns. An hour before Draco is expected to arrive, I bathe and get ready nervously, Pansy's words playing repeatedly in my head.
With only fifteen minutes before Draco arrives, I stand in front of the fireplace, fidgeting with the skirt of my dress. I double check that I’ve cast a glamour over the slur on my arm - thank you, Bellatrix - and put my hair in a clip before taking it back down. I can’t decide if I should be waiting by the fireplace or if that’ll make me seem too eager, or if I should wait by the table instead. Maybe I should set up the plates before he gets here?
I glance back at the table that’s currently holding nearly the entire menu from the Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. To be fair, I don’t know what he eats, and I didn’t want him to go hungry. With the food, I also got different types of soda to try and some whiskey and wine. I thought of getting dessert, but couldn’t settle on anything in time. I also have two file folders waiting on the kitchen counter for when we’re done with the dinner portion of the night. The radio is playing one of the local radio stations at a low volume, keeping the house from being too quiet.
I check the clock on the mantel, sighing. One more minute. I inhale and wipe my hands on the skirt of my dress, and then cast a quick cleaning charm on my tan shoes. I look up, pasting a small smile on my face as I wait for him to step through the fireplace.
Ding dong.
I jump in my spot, frowning at the doorbell. I glance back at the fireplace, but Draco doesn’t seem to be here yet so I walk to the door, fully expecting to see one of my neighbors on the other side. I pull it open to see Draco standing on my porch with a bouquet of white and pink peonies, a small bakery box, and a bottle of wine. He’s dressed impeccably in a pale blue Oxford shirt, black slacks, and dragonhyde leather shoes. He gives me a shy smile, looking down and clearing his throat.
“I didn’t want to come through the fireplace and surprise you,” he says after a few seconds of silence.
I nod, giving him a small smile as I pull the door open wider to let him. “I think it was more surprising hearing the doorbell,” I joke. “Please, come in.”
He chuckles and walks in, smirking. “My apologies,” he says softly. I close the door when he’s fully in the hallway and we stand in the entryway, looking at each other. “I brought some wine from my personal collection that I thought you might enjoy and a variety of macarons from my favorite bakery in France. And these are for you,” he holds out the peonies and I reach for them slowly, smiling and blushing. The sweet smell of the flowers mixed with his earthy, slightly spicy scent mix in an intoxicating way that reminds me of sixth year.
Parchment, cinnamon, aged oak.
“They’re beautiful, thank you,” I reply softly, trying to shake myself from the memory. “I didn’t think they were in season anymore,” I whisper as I study the blooms, looking up at him and giving him a full smile. “These are my favorite flowers, but you can only find them a few months out of the year.”
“I did my homework,” he says proudly, straightening his shoulders. “I wanted tonight to go well,” he adds.
I nod, hesitating only slightly before I motion for him to follow me to the dining room. “I wasn’t sure what you might enjoy, so I ordered a variety for us tonight. You can set the wine and macarons down on the table if you’d like.” I walk to the kitchen and grab a vase from under the sink, adding some water and gently arranging the bouquet inside.
It’s been years since I got flowers, and something about the gesture makes me feel a little giddy as I look at them on my kitchen counter. I look up to find Draco’s gaze on me, looking at me as if he’s trying to figure something out. Looking at me the same way he’d look at his arithmancy classwork. I glance down at my forearm, worried my glamour has fallen when I hear him say in such a quiet voice that I wonder if it’s in my head. “So beautiful.”
“Wh-what?”
He clears his throat, a pink tint coloring the tops of his defined cheekbones. “You look beautiful. Blue brings out the gold in your eyes,” he says matter of factly.
My chest and face heat, and I drop my gaze. “Thank you.”
After what feels like an eternity of silence, I finally get my bearings and walk to the dining room, motioning to the stoneware plates I set on the table and the arrangement of food piled on one side of the table. “Please, help yourself to anything.”
“Thank you,” he says as he grabs a plate and walks to the food area, looking at the food choices with furrowed brows. “What are the folders for?”
I glance over my shoulder at the file folders on the kitchen counter, now sitting beside the vase of peonies. “Just some notes I wanted us to go over tonight.” I grab a plate and follow him, smiling a little at his still empty plate before grabbing a serving spoon and scooping some fried rice onto his plate before doing the same to my own.
He hums, walking behind me as I take it upon myself to pile a little of everything onto his plate since he doesn’t seem partial to anything as of yet. “Like what?” He asks as he sits on the cleared side of the table.
I sit across from him and summon the folders to sit between us, shifting nervously in my seat when he leans forward to look at the top of the folder stamped with a Ministry logo. “Ah,” he says after a second. “Well, let’s get something in our stomachs before we talk business,” he says as he forks a spoonful of fried rice into his mouth.
I do the same, and we eat in companionable silence for a few minutes with just the sound of forks scraping and the soft music in the background. Halfway through his plate, Draco stands and walks to the other end of the table, serving himself another spoonful of General Tso’s chicken and some chow mein. I smirk, noting his favorites for another time. Watching him eat reminds me of the times I’d occasionally see him in the dining hall at Hogwarts, eating with his fellow Slytherins completely oblivious to my teeny tiny crush.
It was embarrassing honestly, crushing on someone who’d bully you in front of your friends, but could be somewhat respectful when we spent time with our mutual friends. It was probably for Theo and Blaise’s sake that he was polite when we were around them, but it was more than a little frustrating when he would spew such venom when I was with Harry and Ron as if he was egging them on to a fight.
“Okay, let’s do this,” he says, clapping his hands and reaching into his pocket. With a whispered spell, he unshrinks the contents in his stomach and places the black folders on the table beside mine. Another spell, and he’s got copies made of both our folders, grabbing a copy of each and holding them out to me. “I think it’d be easiest to address the Ministry mandates before we get into anything more personal, yes?”
I nod, pushing my plate to the side and summoning a pen from my office upstairs. It clatters onto the table, and Draco looks at it curiously before smirking and pulling his own pen from his pocket.
“Blaise got me these, it’s really convenient not having to worry about carrying ink.” He opens one of his folders and I do the same, my leg bouncing under the table as I try to control my breathing.
Fuck, this is really, actually happening.
“I got a summons from Kingsley yesterday,” he begins, clasping his hands together on top of the folder and holding my gaze. “He wants to be at our union, and took it upon himself to schedule it for Wednesday at noon, in his office.”
I gape, a gasp leaving my lips. “That’s in three days.”
He nods, pursing his lips. “He said something about us being flight risks.”
I scoff, crossing my arms. “Okay, fine,” I mutter. “Wednesday it is.” I’m going to kill Kingsley. Maybe hex him into oblivion for this. Not only do I have to marry someone I don’t want to marry, I don’t even get to decide when it happens. Fan-fucking-tastic.
He nods, clearing his throat before looking at the folder again. He shifts in his seat, “I was able to gather some more details on the ceremony itself. We will need at least two witnesses outside of the binder and Ministry official, in this case Kingsley. Do you have any preference?”
I shake my head. “Do you?”
“My Mother has actually asked if she could be present for the ceremony,” he answers after a brief pause. “I’ll only agree to her presence if you’re comfortable with it.”
I nod, biting my lip, glancing at my left arm where the glamour is. It’s not like Narcissa was the one who carved the slur onto my arm, but she didn’t exactly stop her sister either. Then again, I doubt anyone could stop Bellatrix from doing anything except maybe Voldemort himself. “Uh, yeah, that’s fine with me. Anyone else?”
“I was thinking maybe your parents would like to be there? I asked Kingsley and he is willing to grant them a special pass for the occasion,” he adds at my confused expression.
“No,” I reply hastily. “My parents aren’t around.”
“Could I meet them before the ceremony? I know it isn’t exactly something we chose on our own, but I’d like to get your Father’s blessing, and assuage any concerns they may have about this union.”
“No,” I say again, more sternly. “I don’t have any parents anymore, not since the war.”
He flinches, and a pink tint covers the tips of his ears and the tops of his defined cheekbones. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
“Moving on,” I wave him off and look down at the papers in front of me even though I’m not reading a single word. I probably have everything memorized at this point. “How about Theo or Pansy? Or both?”
He nods, making a note on the margins of his paper. “I’ll let them know. Chances are they’ll both want to come.”
I nod, taking a sip of my wine. “Okay, moving on. Wedding rings? I know your family is probably partial to using heirlooms, but seeing as this isn’t some pre-arranged thing, I wasn’t sure if you’d have any preferences.”
“I have actually brought a few options for you to choose from.” He pulls three velvet boxes from his jacket, setting them before me and using magic to open all the lids. “I didn’t want to use any Black family heirlooms for obvious reasons, so they’re all from the Malfoy family vault.”
I gape, shocked at how beautiful they all look. The first one is a round cut diamond, with twining gold bands around it. The second is a pear shaped diamond, beautifully encased in smaller white diamonds, making it shine and stand out even more under the lights. The band is a plain gold, making the diamond the center of attention. The third is a marquise cut diamond sitting in a halo of tinier diamonds, with a paved silver band. Neither diamond seems to be under 2 carats. Each ring has a matching band of similar styles, and the matching groom’s band as well.
My throat goes dry as I look at them, then up at Draco sitting with a pensive look on his face as he watches me. “Malfoy, these are too much,” I finally manage. “I’m sure we could find something simpler.”
“I will not have my wife wearing just anything,” he says. “I want the best for my wife, and these are them.”
“It’s too much,” I repeat.
“I can do this all night,” he says, leaning forward. His face grows serious and my insides clench at the sight. “Would you prefer going to the vaults and picking something else out? Because you’ll be wearing something from the vault regardless of how much you argue.”
My mouth goes dry at his tone, the seriousness in his eyes. The possessiveness in his gaze. I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my mind and look down, sighing. “You’re insufferable,” I mumble, reaching forward and moving the marquise diamond to the side. “This one would be perfect,” I say softly. Something about the simplicity draws me to it and when I look up he’s smiling softly. “What?”
“That’s the one I told Mother I thought you’d like most,” he says with a shrug.
I flush, looking down at my lap. “Thank you. Now, we should probably speed this up or we really might be here all night.”
He nods, looking down again. “Okay, next would be living arrangements. After the match we’re required to live together.”
I nod, sighing. “I know you probably want to live in the Manor, but I don’t really feel comfortable living there.”
He frowns, leaning back into his chair. “You’ve never been,” he says.
I furrow my brows, staring at him. “Yes, I have. Or do you not remember your dear Aunt carving me up in your home?”
He flinches as if I’ve actually hit him, sitting up straighter. “I haven’t lived there since the war ended. I have my own residence.”
“Oh,” my cheeks flush and I bite the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says curtly. “I have made some arrangements in the Manor for your comfort, but if you’d prefer us to stay here a while, I’d be okay with it.”
I shake my head, looking around my home. “No, it’s fine, we can go to yours. I don’t exactly have a lot of space here,” I say sheepishly. “Aside from my bedroom, there’s a small guest room, an office, and a library.”
He scribbles on his paper, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Okay, next is names.”
“Hyphenated,” I say quickly.
He doesn’t look up but nods, continuing to write in the margins. His handwriting is honestly despicable and I can’t understand any of it. “I’ll add you to the deed of the Manor. I’ve already added you to the family vaults, so you’ll have access to everything.” He pulls a gold key from his pocket and sets it before me, along with a slip of paper containing what I’m assuming is the vault number. “You’ve been added to the wards for the Manor already, so you’re free to come whenever you’d like.”
“I don’t need access to your vaults,” I push the key back to him.
He slides it back to me. “Don’t care, you’re getting it. We can still have separate vaults, but I will not have anyone doubting whether or not I’m supporting you, and honestly, Mother has been complaining about nobody touching the funds so you might as well. You can fund any of your projects if you’d like instead of relying on the Ministry.”
“Malfoy, no.”
“Granger, yes. Like I said earlier, I can do this all night.” He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, biceps bulging under his shirt with the motion.
I clench my teeth but grab the key. “I’d like to keep separate rooms,” I say. “You and I don’t know each other well enough to share a bed, and I like my space.”
He nods. “Done. What else?”
“Could I have a desk in my room? Sometimes I work from home, and a desk would make it easier.”
“You’ll have your own office, it’s been arranged already.”
I glance down at my list. “That’s really all I had.”
He chuckles, leaning his elbows on the table. “Is it really? I was expecting a hundred clauses you’d want to go over and negotiate.”
“I’ve never been married before, so I’m not quite sure how to do marriage negotiations.”
“Alright, fair. Well, I have a few requests.”
I nod, waving at him to continue.
“I’d like us to have dinner together every night. I think it’d be a good opportunity to get to know each other better.”
“I have drinks with friends every Friday night, but otherwise, I think I’d be okay with it.”
He nods, smiling. “Can I join you on Friday nights?”
I roll my eyes, nodding. “They’re your friends too, I was honestly surprised you never joined before.”
He shrugs a shoulder but his smirk remains, his tongue piercing glinting in the light. “I see Pansy and Theo at work, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You wouldn’t have,” I say softly. “We’re not school kids anymore.”
“No, we’re not,” he says just as softly.
We stare at each other for a few seconds in silence, his steel grey eyes boring into me. Goosebumps pebble my skin and I shift in my seat, dropping my gaze to my lap. “Anything else?”
He sighs. “Yes, and I’m sorry in advance, but my Mother and Pansy would like to take you dress shopping. They’re insisting, actually, Pansy threatened to drag you by the hair if I’m allowed to quote her directly.”
I sigh, nodding in defeat. “I don’t doubt she would. I’d have to meet your Mother officially eventually, so okay. At least Pansy will be there to keep things from being awkward.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I wouldn’t worry. My Mother has been very excited about this match since it was announced.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, new rule, don’t lie to me. I know your Mother would prefer some pureblood princess.”
He shakes his head, frowning. “No, no, seriously. She’s been talking about how bloody brilliant you are, and showing me newspaper clippings going back years of your achievements and rambling about how excited she is to have another female in the family.”
“Oh,” is all I manage to say. “Okay then. Anything else?”
“The house elves would like to meet you.”
“The what?”
“House elves. And before you ask, they’re free and they’re paid. They have their own space within the residence, they have paid time off, vacation time, lunch breaks, everything. I treat them well. In fact, Millie is obsessed with shopping and has her own shopping accounts.” His eyes harden and he crosses his arms, defenses clearly on. "I'm not the same boy you used to know, things change, people change. I changed."
“You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed,” I surrender. “I’ll meet them. When?”
“Millie and Missy work during the day, six to six. Tippy and Bitsy work nights. They don’t work weekends.”
I nod, exhaling. “Perhaps once I move in?”
He nods, tension rolling off his shoulders. “Okay, thank you.”
I nod back, closing my folder. “Is that everything?”
When he nods, I stand, walking to the kitchen to refill my glass of wine and downing it in one go. I hear him chuckle from the table and glance over my shoulder, raising a brow. “Problem?”
“Just glad you like the wine,” he replies with humor evident in his tone. He stands and walks to the kitchen, his strides slow and purposeful before he’s standing before me. He grabs the wine glass out of my hands and sets it on the counter, tugging me towards the center of the kitchen before he drops onto a knee.
“Oh, no, nope, get up,” I say quickly, trying to tug him to his feet. “This is not some romantic, Romeo and Juliet thing, please get up.”
He grins from ear to ear, holding my hand in one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other to pull out the velvet box. “Oh come on, Granger, I know you like the sight of me on my knee for you. I'll get on both if you prefer,” he winks and opens the lid, holding the box in front of me. “Hermione Granger. I know the circumstances are weird, but I am grateful for the opportunity to get to know you better and build a relationship out of nothing. I will do whatever it takes to make this good for you. Will you do me the honor of accepting this proposal and becoming my wife?”
I roll my eyes, though a warm feeling spreads through my chest at how sincere he sounds. He keeps his eyes on my own, giving me a hopeful look. I bite my lip, nodding.
“Yes, Malfoy. I'll be your wife.”
He exhales and slides the marquise ring onto my ring finger, before pocketing the velvet box and standing, his arms wrapping around my waist as he twirls me around in the kitchen. I squeal, my arms instinctively going around his neck. “Put me down, you caveman!” I giggle.
“You won't regret it,” he promises as he sets me down, keeping his hands lightly on my waist. His eyes dance between my own before starting to my lips, leaning forward slightly.
I step out of his embrace, looking down at our shoes, swallowing the knot that's forming in my throat.
This isn't real. It's just a role .
The ring feels heavy on my left hand and I glance down at it, feeling it resize on my finger and a slight warmth around it. “You're sweet,” I finally say, looking up at him. “You didn't have to go out of your way to do this or to bring ring options. It was a really kind gesture, and it means a lot to me. Thank you, Malfoy.”
“Anything for you, Granger.” His words caress over my skin, blanketing me in warmth even when he steps back and towards the living room. “Shall we watch some television and have some dessert? I will admit, I've not quite worked out the television yet, but maybe you can teach me.”
We spend the next three hours in the living room, both of us with our shoes kicked off and sitting on the couch flipping through channels. Draco seems like a kid on Christmas as he holds the remote, switching channels and staring in wonder at how many channels are available playing such a variety of things. I show him how to use the buttons, how to change the language on the TV, and we eventually settle to watch Family Feud - a show he finds hilarious and confusing as he learns some of the more common Muggle phrases. Throughout the night, I keep glancing down at the ring on my left hand, feeling it warm every time he laughs or his leg bumps mine.
Chapter 7: Wedding Vows
Notes:
Trigger warning: mentions of rape, depictions of depression and psychological abuse.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The last time I’d been standing outside the windows of this particular bridal shop in Diagon Alley, I had a broken finger on my left hand that I’d convinced everyone I’d gotten trying to learn to fly a broom with Ron. An obvious lie, but one everyone bought all too happily, especially Molly who was with me at the time as we did some Christmas shopping.
“Ron mentioned the reason there’s no date for the wedding was because you couldn’t decide,” Molly said. “It’s normal to be nervous, dear, but you can’t keep him waiting forever. Why don’t we pick a date and you can surprise him tonight?”
I sigh, holding my coat tighter around myself and looking down at my feet, kicking at a pebble and watching it skitter away. “I just need some time,” I say finally.
“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t expect him to wait forever. Men have needs, they need to feel wanted and empowered. It is our job to ensure our husbands, or in your case finance, are happy and content. You wouldn’t want his attention to stray to someone else,” she stops in front of the bridal shop, looking through the window at the long-sleeved wedding gown. “Someone who would be willing to give him everything he wants at a moment’s notice. No man wants to be kept waiting. He knows what he wants. He deserves a girl who loves him and a family of his own. He wants that with you.”
I look at her, paying no mind to the wedding dress she’s looking at with a twinkle in her eyes. “What about what I want?”
She sighs, turning to look at me and grabbing my right hand in hers. “What you want comes after the wedding. Marriage, a home, a husband who provides. It is a woman’s responsibility to teach the children and provide a loving and nurturing home, to build her husband up and keep him strong.”
“Not everyone’s dream is to be trapped in a house birthing children and cooking for a husband who’s gone all day,” I snap.
Her eyes harden, and she drops my hand, turning away. “Be careful, Hermione. You’ll regret waiting so long if you lose him.”
Please let me lose him, I beg in my head. God, please let me out.
We’d continued our shopping in silence, but neither of us were very into it. When we’d gotten back to the Burrow, I’d gone straight upstairs and downed a sleeping potion, skipping dinner. I’d only woken up when Ron had climbed into bed, tugging my jeans down my legs and biting at the insides of my thighs to the point it had bruised. I wasn’t even strong enough to fight it when he’d forced himself into me, his palm pressing the side of my face into the mattress as he'd pounded into me, complaining about how I'm never in the mood. I tried to Occlude, but I was never very good at it and the best I could do was go through my memories, staring at the lamp on the bedside table as I recited the ingredients for Veritaserum and how to make it until he’d collapsed beside me. When I'd gone to clean myself up, Harry was stepping out of the bathroom.
I knew what I looked like, the handprint still on the side of my face from how hard Ron had pressed it into the mattress to stifle my crying. Harry looked down, walking past me with a muttered, "It'll get better," on his way to the room he shared with Ginny.
That's when I knew: Harry will always choose Ron. I kept him alive; I helped him win this war. But Ron was his best friend, the brother of the girl he loved, the son of the two people he wished were his parents. I had nothing else to offer now that the war was won.
“Oh, I’m so happy you agreed to this!” Pansy squeals when she spots me outside the shop, Narcissa close behind her. Pansy pulls me into a hug, bouncing on her heels. “I never thought we’d go wedding dress shopping together, this will be so much fun!”
I smile, patting her back in an attempt to get her to loosen her tightening grip on me. “Yes, yes, it’s all very exciting, but right now I can’t breathe.” I giggle as she lets me go, her cheeks pink from the cold air.
She steps back, standing beside Narcissa and pursing her lips. I look at Narcissa, bile rising in my throat. I’d forgotten how similar she and Bellatrix looked sometimes. Though her hair was now fully blonde, it seemed to heighten the similarities between the two sisters. Their pointed noses, their shared lip shape, and their eyes were the same color. But where Bellatrix appeared cruel, menacing, and cold, Narcissa’s features seemed open, comforting, and…kind. She gave me a small smile and stepped forward, her kitten heels making us the same height.
I try to stifle my gasp of surprise when she pulls me into a hug, her arms wrapping around my shoulders. It’s such an unexpected gesture, that it takes me a few seconds to wrap my arms around her to awkwardly return the gesture. Pansy’s gaze finds mine over the woman’s shoulders and she gives me an encouraging smile, her hands clasped in front of her excitedly.
“Miss Granger, I am so grateful that you have allowed me to be a part of this special occasion," Narcissa says when she pulls away. She gives me a nervous smile, her eyes crinkling in the corner with crows feet.
I bite the inside of my cheek, nodding. “Um, of course. Thank you for coming.” I glance at Pansy, “Both of you. I’m sure this will be fun.”
Pansy claps her hands, bouncing on her heels again and pulling open the door to the bridal shop. “I had them close the entire shop so only we will be here and we have until noon to do our shopping uninterrupted.”
“It’s eight,” I say stupidly.
“You’re right, that might not be enough time,” Pansy says as she spins in the center of the store, looking around at the dozens of racks in the room.
Narcissa chuckles in front of me, already looking at a rack of dresses. I sigh, trying to decide where to even start. There must be a dozen racks, and the store worker is immediately bustling around the store, summoning forward racks with our sizes and explaining how everything is categorized. She asks Pansy a few questions about the style of dress she's hoping for, a quick notes quill floating beside her tiny frame scribbling furiously. When she turns to ask me the same questions, all I can say is simple. I don't know what kind of veil I'm looking for, I don't know what style of bridal dress I want, I don't know if I want something long or short.
She gives me a sympathetic smile, patting my arm. “It's normal to be nervous, dear,” she says before disappearing into the racks with Pansy.
“Miss Granger, I think this dress would look wonderful on you,” Narcissa says after a few minutes of searching through racks, placing a dress on one of the empty rolling racks that follows us around the store. It has a name tag with the name “Granger-Malfoy” on it, and across the room, there’s another with “Parkinson-Weasley” on it. I feel nauseous just seeing my name hyphenated with someone else's. Someone I hardly know.
“Just Hermione, please,” I say as I walk slowly to the rack to peek at the dress. It is very beautiful, with long lace sleeves and a cathedral train. The front has a plunging neckline. “I’ll try it on.”
Narcissa beams, nodding and following me to the dressing rooms. “I can help if you’d like,” she offers from the other side of the curtain when I have struggled in the dressing room for nearly twenty minutes trying to get the dress on. There’s so many layers of fabric that I keep getting tangled, sweat has begun to head on my forehead, my arms are sore from tugging and pulling every which way trying to work out the dress, and tears burn behind my eyes in frustration.
I always thought I’d have my mom with me for this, and now that I’m trying on wedding dresses without her, it makes me miss her even more. While I don’t regret what I did to keep them safe during the war, I hate that magic is apparently not advanced enough to reverse a spell that I did when I was still a teenager. After seeing so many mind healers, most said the same thing: there's always a risk with such a tricky and advanced spell. You took it too far by completely removing yourself from their memories. Now I’m wedding dress shopping with a woman I barely know, even if I do have my best friend here, but she’s busy looking for her own wedding dress.
“Just a minute,” I call out, cringing at the break in my voice. I sit on the floor, sighing at the amount of fabric I still have no idea how to get my body into. “If you don’t mind helping,” I start slowly, “I would appreciate it.”
The curtains open and Narcissa slips inside, giving me a smile. “I don’t mind at all,” she says as she grabs my hands and helps me to my feet. “I have always wanted a daughter,” she says, eyes on the dress as she uses her wand to float it onto the hanger on the wall. She straightens out the fabric before grabbing it off the hanger and helping me step into it. “Pansy is the closest I have had to one, but she’s very independent. Her Mother raised her to be that way, and she’s hesitant to ask for help.”
I nod, pushing my arm through the sleeve she’s holding stretched out before me before doing the same with my left arm. Her gaze snags on my left forearm and she furrows her brows. I look down, but my glamor is still firmly in place so I doubt she can see the slur her sister carved into my arm. Maybe she’s just remembering. I turn around and pull my hair to the side so she can button up the back.
“I am grateful that I've been given the opportunity to speak with you,” Narcissa says in a quiet voice. “I have been wanting to apologize for what happened to you in my home.”
I shake my head. “I do not hold you responsible for what happened.”
“I still want to apologize. I wanted to interfere, and I should've stopped my sister that night. I am sorry that you got dragged into what should've been an adults’ war, Hermione.”
I frown, a little snippet of the night coming back to me, before I push it back. “You were outnumbered. Even if your sister didn't kill you for what she would've seen as a betrayal, Greyback or Dolohov or any other Death Eater present that night would've.”
She's quiet for a long time, her fingers still working on doing up the buttons on my back. “You know, the blade she used was poisoned. Bella liked to experiment, and she had bragged about the blade's ability to cause a cut that wouldn't fade.”
Her hand rests on my shoulder and she helps me to turn around. I keep my eyes down, staring at the heavy skirt of the dress, my hands fidgeting.
Fuck, maybe my glamour isn't as good as I thought it was. Maybe she can see through it somehow.
“Draco and I worked on a potion and salve to help heal it,” she says quietly. “I can tell you have a glamour on your arm; a very strong one. If I didn't know to look, I wouldn't be able to see anything amiss. However, that night has haunted me for a long time, and I can see the waves of your magic. I'd like to help you. We've had success with others who Bellatrix used the blade on. It’ll take a few months of using the salve for it to completely disappear,” she finishes in a soft voice.
“I don't like looking at it,” I confess in a whisper.
She reaches forward and tucks a curl behind my ear, pursing her lips. “I'll have Draco owl you the salve and instructions tonight.”
I nod, sniffling and wiping a stray tear from my eye. “Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.”
Narcissa squeezes my elbows, giving me the softest smile that reminds me of my mom. “Please, just Narcissa, sweetheart.”
Draco
Mother and I end up meeting for dinner at a small restaurant near my work, and I’m nervous as the waiter takes our order and we go through the formalities before I can finally ask her how wedding dress shopping was. All day, I’ve felt a knot in my stomach just thinking about my Mother and Hermione together, although I was thankfully able to rope Pansy into it to keep things from being too awkward.
“How was your morning?” I begin, taking a sip of the wine she picked out for dinner. A little too sweet for my taste, but I didn’t want to order fire whiskey and hear another of her lectures about needing to pace myself and it not being safe to apparate home - even if I’ve only had one drink.
“It was very lovely, Pansy and Hermione both got the most beautiful dresses for their respectable ceremonies,” Narcissa says, taking a bite of her salad and holding my gaze.
When she offers nothing else, I take a bite of my own salad, sighing internally. “How’d Hermione seem?”
“A bit tired, but I don’t imagine she enjoys shopping much, so it’s to be expected.” She sets her fork down and pats the corners of her lips, clearing her throat. “She is a very impressive woman, and very beautiful. I can see why you’ve been besotted with her for as long as you have.”
I scoff, furrowing my brows. “I am not besotted. We haven’t spoken in years.”
She gives me a small knowing smile, raising one of her delicate brows. “Draco, a Mother always knows. I still have the letters you sent us from your time at Hogwarts, and I distinctly remember you mentioning her multiple times. What was it you said? Oh yes, you complained about her besting you at all subjects at school and how it was unfair that she was so ‘bloody intelligent’ when she’d had just a few weeks to learn about magic prior to Hogwarts.”
“She didn’t beat me in Divination or Potions,” I mutter, shoving a forkful of salad into my mouth. “And I didn’t write about her in every letter.”
She giggles into her napkin, shaking her head. “Don’t worry dear boy, I won’t tell her. Regardless, it was always obvious you fancied the girl. Your Father and I had a lot of time to come around to the idea of her becoming someone important to you, and potentially to the family as a whole. It took your Father longer than it took me for obvious reasons, but he would’ve accepted her into the family with open arms. It is unfortunate that things changed so much after your fifth year,” she finishes quietly, glancing around and shifting in her seat. “I despised that you had to watch her be tortured. I felt guilty that there was nothing we could do to protect her, or you, that night.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, twisting the Malfoy signet ring around my finger. “I could’ve helped her,” I say quietly. “I could’ve hidden her, told Voldemort she died and hidden her.”
She gives me a sad smile, reaching forward and taking my hand in her own. “My sweet, dear boy,” she whispers. “She never would’ve let you hide her. Our home was full of Death Eaters, not to mention Voldemort himself. It wouldn’t have worked.”
I nod, knowing that I had come to the same conclusion that same night while I had watched her writhe on the floor, tears streaming down her face and collecting in a puddle beneath her head, screaming and her body bent at weird angles from the pain of the cruciatus curse. Bellatrix was ruthless and had no mercy, giving her no reprieve between one curse and the next. I remember clearly how painful Bella’s cruciatus curse was, it still haunted me. Sometimes I wake up drenched in sweat, my voice hoarse from screaming, my body shaking with the memory of the fire that coursed through my body, the feel of each bone in my spine splitting to shards, the way it felt like my lungs were constricting fighting for air, the impossible angles the body can move in when trying to avoid what feels like a slow death.
“Anyways, I told her I would ask you to send some of the balm we made for Luna her way tonight. You still have some, right?”
My eyes shoot up to hers, brows furrowing. “She still has the scar?”
She nods, waiting until the waiter has placed our entrees on the table before continuing. “She has it glamoured; I only noticed because I was so close while helping her with her wedding gown.”
I sigh, slumping back in my chair. Fuck. I should’ve known, I should’ve sent her the balm and the potion when I first made it. I should’ve had Luna take some to her. “I’ll send it right away.”
The rest of dinner is a silent affair, each of us focused on our meals and in our own thoughts. When I get back home, I immediately grab the balm and potion for Hermione, writing instructions on one piece of parchment along with ingredients in case she’s curious, before writing a separate note to her.
Granger,
I hope you will forgive that it has taken me so long to send this to you. Please owl if you have any further questions or concerns. If it is of any comfort, Luna Lovegood has used both the potion and the balm with no issues.
I look forward to marrying you Wednesday.
D.M.
After my owl has left, I lean against the window sill, facing the clothes I had Pansy help me find this afternoon in Muggle London to marry Hermione. I want her to know that I accept all parts of her, so instead of going with traditional wizard robes for the occasion, I enlisted Pansy to help me find a suit for the occasion.
The suit's ensemble is entirely black, and Pansy babbled about it being modern and sophisticated. The suit jacket was sharply tailored to my silhouette, giving clean lines throughout. It has a matching waistcoat, a fitted black dress shirt that I plan to wear fully buttoned for the occasion, and a black tie. To accessorize, Pansy picked out silver chain pins to connect the collar tip to the center of the tie knot and on the left side of the jacket a silver pocket chain that drapes across the chest connected to a black brooch. Upon trying it on, I was shocked at how well everything fit, from the top to the slacks. My tattoos gave the entire ensemble a vibe of sophisticated rebel, and I wasn’t mad about it. I wanted to look my best for her while still feeling like myself.
***
The room is buzzing with nervous energy. Kingsley and Percy Weasley are talking quietly by the window of Kingsley’s office, using their hands to discuss one thing or another among themselves. I am standing by the podium that was brought in for the ceremony, since Kingsley saw fit to hold the ceremony in his office. The cleric - an elderly lady wearing the ugliest, baggiest dress robes I’ve ever seen - is flipping through the marriage contract, ensuring everything we need is in place.
My Mother and Pansy are with Hermione in the hall, doing some last minute touches before the ceremony commences in just a few short minutes. Theo is standing beside me, still fucking talking.
“Personally, I think pink looks great on me, but Lovegood is set on me wearing only white for our wedding. I thought that was the bride’s color, why can’t I match with the bridesmaids?”
“Theodore, for the love of everything that is holy, please shut the fuck up before I cut out your tongue,” I mutter. “If your future wife wants you to wear a diaper to your wedding, you wear a fucking diaper with a smile on your face.”
“But it’s not fair!” He whines, pouting like a petulant child. “You get to wear this Muggle suit that looks amazing, and I have to wear white?! I mean seriously, if you weren’t marrying Granger, I would totally do you.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I snap. “Now shut up.”
“Oh, I would. One time just wasn’t enough for me, baby,” Theo says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“Theodore,” I threaten. “It was one time out of curiosity, and you’re not my type. You’re too fucking clingy.”
He gasps dramatically, holding his hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
“Great, now shut the fuck up,” I mutter. I turn towards the door when I hear it open, and watch as my Mother and Pansy trail in the room, both beaming. Pansy shoots me a wink, sitting next to my Mother on the loveseat in the center of the room. I watch the doorway, waiting for Hermione to walk in.
My knees buckle when I see her step carefully into the room, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide, searching the room until they land on me. She gives me a shy smile, and I almost drop to my knees before her.
She’s wearing a strapless, full-length gown made of smooth, glossy satin. It drapes beautifully and elegantly against her skin. The sweetheart neckline of her bodice is form-fitting, and it’s intricately pleated and wrapped diagonally to create an hourglass-like silhouette. The dress flows into an A-line skirt at her hips flaring just enough to allow for free movement and a soft gliding motion as she walks closer. The gown has no extra embellishments, relying solely on the rich silk and her beauty to create the most beautiful woman.
Her curls are hanging down her back, some pinned back to hold a tulle bow instead of a veil. She’s wearing simple makeup, glowing under the lights in the room.
When she stops before me, I force myself to swallow, and give a low bow even though all I want to do is drop to my knees and worship the very ground she stands on. How anyone could think she’s anything but a goddess is beyond me. If she asked it of me right now, I would carve out my heart and place it in her hands.
Her cheeks are flaming red when I straighten up, giving her a smile before I take both her hands in my own. We take out positions in front of the podium, and wait for further directions. She’s watching the cleric - Mrs.Wilson, she said her name was - explain what we’re to do, her focus entirely on her. She bites her lip and nods along, giving polite smiles here and there.
“Ready to begin?” Mrs.Wilson asks, looking at me.
I nod, squaring my shoulders and keeping my eyes solely on the woman who is going to be my wife. I rub circles on the top of her hands, pride swelling in my chest when I feel the tremble in her hands fade.
Mrs.Wilson speaks for what feels like an eternity before Theodore is handing her the velvet box containing the two wedding bands. She casts a spell that makes them glow with the Ministry’s Law magic, before she turns to me and holds out the ring I will place on Hermione’s finger. “Repeat after me, dear. I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take you, Hermione Jean Granger, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”
I nod, keeping my eyes solely locked on Hermione’s chocolate brown eyes. She’s biting her lip, her brows slightly drawn together and I fight the urge to reach forward and smooth the creases away.
“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take you, Hermione Jean Granger, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”
“...I vow to uphold the decrees placed forth by the Ministry for the wellbeing of the Wizarding World.”
“I vow to uphold the decrees placed forth by the Ministry for the wellbeing of the Wizarding World,” I say with a glare shot in Kingsley’s direction at his unoriginality. The good thing is that I planned something better. Hermione deserves a wedding that doesn’t scream ‘they’re only doing this for repopulation efforts’.
“Okay, now, Miss Granger, you–”
“I’m not done,” I cut in. “I have my own vows I’d like to present to Miss Granger.”
“That’s not necessary,” Kingsley starts, but snaps his mouth shut when not only do I turn to him with a glare, but Theodore steps forward and crosses his arms. Pansy and my Mother also stand, completely blocking his way to where Hermione and I stand..
“I suggest you sit down, Minister,” Narcissa spits his title at him like it means nothing, which to her it probably does.
Kingsley clears his throat, nodding before stepping back to stand with Percy by the window. Once my Mother and Pansy are seated, and Theo is at the place he claimed behind me, I turn back to Hermione.
I roll my shoulders and turn back to Hermione, who’s watching me with a curious glint in her eyes, her lips parted as she waits. Her cheeks are flushed, and the top of her chest has a pink tint to it that she only gets when she’s nervous. I hold her gaze as I speak, willing every word to embed itself in her brain, her heart. Willing her to trust me as we move forward, knowing that I mean every word that I spent hours deciding on.
“Hermione Granger. Today, I take you as my wife and do so with my own promises to you as we move into this chapter in our lives. I vow to love, respect and cherish you for all my days, through every joy and every challenge. With this ring, I tie my life to yours. I vow to laugh with you in times of joy, and comfort you in times of sorrow. I will listen to you with compassion and understanding. I will share in your dreams and do everything I can to help you reach them. I vow that you will never know an unkind touch from my hands, or an unkind word from my lips. I take you to be my wife, to be none other than who you are and know that I will be devoted through every version of yourself I get the honor to call mine.”
Tears well in her eyes, and she sniffles, trying to pull one hand to wipe her tears. I reach forward instead, gently wiping her tears away with my thumb, letting my hand linger just the slightest before I drop it to hold her hand in mine again. She gives me a soft smile, nodding. I place the band on her ring finger, joining her engagement ring, before leaning forward to kiss her knuckles. I straighten and give her a smile and a wink. Her eyes drop to my lips for a split second before she averts her eyes completely, looking to the cleric.
“Lovely. Ms. Granger, repeat after me: I, Hermione Jean Granger, take you Draco Lucius Malfoy…”
She turns to me and the tremble in her hands has returned. I squeeze her hands encouragingly, continuing to rub circles on the tops of her delicate hands. She holds my gaze steady while she speaks, her voice coming out soft and quiet. “I, Hermione Jean Granger, take you, Draco Lucius Malfoy…”
“Take you to be my lawfully wedded husband…”
“Take you to be my lawfully wedded husband,” she inhales before continuing, talking over the cleric when she begins with the Ministry’s section of the vow. “I take you to be my husband in sickness and in health, for poorer or richer. I vow to be your friend and your teammate.” She looks to the cleric and nods.
“I vow to uphold the decrees placed forth by the Ministry for the wellbeing of the Wizarding World…”
She swallows before looking back to me, her eyes meeting mine and her words coming out quietly. “I vow to uphold the decrees placed forth by the Ministry for the wellbeing of the Wizarding World.” With that, she places the ring that matches her set on my fourth finger, and I immediately feel the magic as it takes effect, binding our magic together. We sign our names on the marriage license quickly before we’re facing each other again, awaiting the end of the ceremony.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the cleric says with a large smile. Confetti flies out of her wand, followed by soft clapping from everyone else in the room. “Mr.Malfoy, you may now kiss your wife.”
“It would be an honor,” I say softly as I step forward. Hermione brings one hand up to my lapels as I wrap a hand around her waist, bringing one to rest on her cheek as I lean down.
Her eyes are big and round, chocolate gaze swirling with confusion. She gasps a little when I squeeze her hip, and she brings her lips just a little bit closer before her eyes flutter close. I feel her hand wrap around my neck and play with the hair at the back of my neck before I feel our lips touch softly, hesitantly.
She steps closer, her chest pressed against mine, as we kiss. Her lips are soft as they move with mine, parting just slightly and exhaling a little gasp into my lips before I swallow it, just barely resisting the urge to moan into her lips. Kissing her feels better than the day I got to walk out of Azkaban and take my first breath of fresh air. Kissing her is a revelation, an answered prayer. It’s knowing that Heaven is real, and she’s the way in.
Her lips part slowly as we kiss, and my tongue slowly slips into her mouth, our tongues dancing. She shivers when the piercing on my tongue makes contact with hers, her grip around my neck tightening just the slightest bit. I smirk against her lips, giving her one last, lasting kiss before I’m pulling away, leaning my forehead against hers. She gasps a shocked laugh, her hands running down the front of my chest before holding my hands.
“Well, is anyone else turned on? No, just me?” Theo’s voice cuts in and Hermione steps away, laughing and shaking her head at Theo.
I roll my eyes, keeping hold of her hand as we turn to face everyone. My Mother and Pansy both have tears in their eyes, walking to us. My Mother pulls us both into a hug, nestled between us as she sniffles. “I am so proud of you two,” she sniffles and gives each of us a peck on the cheek before stepping back.
Kingsley walks forward, his chest puffed out proudly. “Well, that was a lovely ceremony,” he beams, holding a hand out to Hermione.
She steps back, looking at the ground. At her reaction, I step forward, partially obscuring her from his view with my body. “No thanks to you,” I say. “We’re done here.”
“Of course, of course, I’m sure you lovebirds would like to spend time together as husband and wife,” he says, his tone a clear threat.
I glower at him, a growl slipping from my lips. “If you think that–”
“I’d like to go home,” Hermione’s voice is soft behind me, but she tugs on my arm slightly. “Please.”
I nod, glaring down at the Minister. My Mother, Pansy, and Theo all walk behind us, an unspoken agreement that we’ll continue the day in my home. Now, mine and Hermione’s home.
After the war, we were friends. He used to visit me in Azkaban, helping me keep sane. He ensured that I could continue my education while I was serving my time, and even helped me to become an Auror despite my record. When this whole marriage law was proposed, I never thought it would actually be passed. Nobody likes their choices, their control, their lives being taken from them. When it did pass, he informed me of my match and I argued with him, asking him how he could do this to her. I didn’t care about my fate, but I cared about Hermione’s. There were still a lot of people who were angry about my past, who despised my family name, and now I was being matched to a war heroine who would inevitably be dragged into one of the most despised ex-Death Eater families. It was unfair to her, she deserved better.
All he seemed to care about was that this union would clear my name, possibly get my Father out of prison, and would probably draw out some of the Death Eaters that were still on the run. His reasoning for not wanting to terminate this match was mostly political; he wanted the Death Eaters captured so that he would run a peaceful country and form stronger alliances with other countries that had cut ties with the UK during Voldemort’s rise. While I agreed that finding the Death Eaters was important, I didn’t want to use Hermione to do so. She had been through enough, and I had heard enough about her from the other Snakes to know she needed the break. It was why I never told her of the additional wards I’d had installed in her home.
“If you won’t take her, I have heard that Ronald Weasley would be interested in marrying her and providing her with children,” Kingsley had said, his knee crossed over the other as he sipped his tea, his eyes never leaving mine.
“He’s already married,” I snapped.
“Lavender has requested to terminate the marriage,” he’d said with a chuckle. “It turns out she has caught feelings for another wizard, and Mr.Weasley and herself have decided that perhaps their marriage was too fast.”
I roll my eyes, fist clenching at my side. How dare he. Hermione was humiliated by him and now he thinks he can just come back when he’s already started a family with someone else? No, that just won’t do.
“I’ll marry her,” I’d said with finality. “If she agrees to this, I’ll marry her.”
“She’ll agree,” he’d promised. “I think this will be great. You had mentioned having unresolved feelings for the young girl. Now’s your chance to act on them.”
“Don’t act like you’re doing me or her any favors,” I’d spat. “You’re only doing this in hopes that Greyback or Dolohov will be drawn out.”
“A pureblood marrying one of her kind is bound to be upsetting,” Kingsley pointed out.
Immediately upon stepping out into the Atrium, we’re engulfed by reporters from all sides, each trying to get a peek of the new bride and groom on their special day. I wrap an arm around Hermoine’s shoulders, using my body to shield her. Theo is immediately on her other side, nodding at me over her head.
Fuck, more reporters outside.
“Hermione, we’ll have to floo from my office unless you’re okay dealing with reporters outside,” I speak into her ear, my head leaned down towards her. She’s grasping my shirt tightly, stumbling on her dress and heels as we’re jostled by greedy reporters.
“Floo, please,” she says with a squeak.
I nod, and when she nearly falls because a reporter dropped their bag and she tripped over it, I use my magic to create a barrier around the three of us that blasts them all away from us. I lean down, placing one hand on her back and one under her knees before I scoop her up, glaring at the reporters as I walk with Theo to the Auror Department entrance. Once we’re in, we hurry to my office, Hermione’s grip tight around my neck and her face hidden in the crook of my neck. My office door swings open with an uttered spell from my lips, and I carry her through and step into the floor, nodding to Theo so he can drop some floo powder before I say the address to our home and the flames engulf us.
When we land in the fireplace in our home, I duck my head just slightly as I step out, not surprised when Pansy and my Mother are already sitting in the sitting room the floo connected to. There’s a small cake on the table, and Blaise and Astoria are at the bar making drinks. Slowly, I set her on her feet close to the loveseat in case she’s feeling sick or jittery since I don’t know how floo travel affects her.
Her eyes are blank as she sits on the loveseat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She doesn’t look up when Theo arrives or when my Mother places a cold glass of water in her hands. She doesn’t look up when I sit beside her. When everyone else has left and it’s just us, she remains sitting in the same spot, only now she’s holding her knees to her chest and gazing into the fireplace I lit for the night. I grab a throw blanket and drape it over her shoulders before sitting beside her, my thigh brushing hers to let her know I’m here.
We sit in silence for hours until she drifts off, her head on my shoulder as her breathing deepens. I summon pillows and a blanket, taking her shoes off her feet and placing them beside my own beside the loveseat using magic. I wrap my arm around her and she doesn’t stir, just drapes her arm around my waist as she sleeps.
I could get used to this.
Notes:
Happy Wedding Day! I drew from my own wedding when writing the vows between these two stubborn love birds, with a few edits to adjust for their individual feelings. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Also, I am so so grateful for the comments! I love seeing what you guys think, although sometimes I forget to reply or simply don't know what to say that won't spoil what I have planned for the future of this story.
I hope everyone has a safe Fourth of July!
-Gen
Chapter 8: The Morning After
Notes:
Hey, everyone! I made some adjustments to the timeline/ages and figured I'd address it now! So instead of this taking time ten years after the war, it'll be 5 years. I'm also not sure if I made it clear in the previous chapters, but Hermione was with Ron for 3 years after the war, so this is taking time two years after she left him.
Thank you for taking the time to read!
- Gen
Chapter Text
I wake slowly, my fingers curling slightly over Hermione’s head as she continues to sleep with her head on my lap. Her hand is wrapped around one of my thighs, and she’s curled in on herself with the blanket I draped over her tucked under her chin. She looks so peaceful, her lips parted just the slightest bit.
I take the opportunity to study her face, noticing the pattern of light freckles that pepper her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. Part of me aches to trace them, connect them to see if I can find any constellations written on her skin. She has a faded scar just below her chin. Her lips are almost a salmon pink shade, and they’re full and so soft as I learned upon kissing her yesterday.
Fuck, I still can’t believe I married her yesterday. I can’t believe I kissed her, and she kissed me back. I hope I get to do it again soon, but I need to take it slow with her. I need to win her affections, although I’m sure the wedding vows I worked on probably helped a bit.
She stirs a little and then jumps up, nearly knocking her head into my chin from her haste and almost falling off the loveseat. I chuckle, carefully wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her on the loveseat and she turns to look at me, her face crimson and her face scrunched in embarrassment. “Well, good morning, darling,” I drawl, leaving my hand on her waist since she hasn’t made an effort to get away or look like a deer in headlights from the touch.
“Um, good morning,” she says slowly, clearing her throat and looking around. She holds the blanket wrapped around her shoulders still, and she worries her lip between her teeth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep and I’m sure I was an absolute bore after…well…yesterday’s events. You should’ve woken me, you didn’t have to stay here, I would’ve been–”
“Merlin, breathe woman,” I cut her off, getting in her direct line of sight. “You were not a bore, I didn’t mind staying with you, and you’re okay. No need to apologize, everything is fine.”
She stares at me, her mouth slightly agape before shaking her head and nodding. “Erm, thank you,” she says after a few seconds of silence, giving me a shy smile. “Could you point me in the direction of somewhere to freshen up?”
I nod, standing and offering her my hand. She takes it after a moment’s hesitation, and I help her up, then walk with her towards the staircase that leads to the main rooms. Upon getting matched, I had to make some provisions to ensure that we could have a shared space as husband and wife, while still maintaining the separate rooms she wanted - although I was hopeful that in a few weeks we’d be sharing a room and the extra room could be turned into a nursery in due time. Until then, both rooms were decorated in creams and pale shades of blue; colors Astoria said were warm and inviting when she helped me decorate the Manor after I purchased it. Millie especially seemed to love the bright colors around the Manor, saying the previous owner always insisted on blacks and greys, and the occasional deep crimson color to decorate and it was always very dark despite the large windows. Having lived in a dark Manor my whole life and then spending time in the dark in Azkaban, I wanted my home to be light and airy.
Hermione took everything in while we climbed the stairs, stopping in the hall to study the artwork hung on the walls in appreciation. Astoria had gotten them in France, they were painted by a Muggle and she’d gotten a nice variety to hang throughout the Manor. “I expected magical family portraits,” Hermione said as we continued down the hall slowly. Her arm was looped through mine, and she’d give the lightest squeeze every time she wanted to stop to look at a painting.
“No, I did not want to have to listen to dead witches or wizards critiquing my every move,” I admit. “I get enough of that outside of my home, I wanted some peace in my home.”
Hermione looks at me with her brows furrowed, and she nods. “I can understand that,” she says softly. “I will admit, you are different than I thought you’d be.”
I raise a brow, and she lowers her face, blushing once more and biting her lip. “What did you expect I’d be like?”
“Well I for sure thought you’d be enraged at us being matched,” she says with a chuckle. “And then I expected you to be cold or rude once it was over with. I didn’t expect you to come to my house with flowers and dessert, and I didn’t expect your home to feel so…clean.”
“Clean? Merlin, Granger, I do have house-elves who are capable of cleaning, and I am also able to do it myself. Might not be as good as their work, but I can clean. You wound me,” I say in mock hurt.
She laughs at this, and we come to a halt at the end of the hall where there’s double doors that’ll open to the shared sitting area and our bedrooms. “I don’t mean literally clean, Malfoy. I meant that your previous home, the one time I was there, was very heavy and thick with dark magic. Not to mention it was so dark, even with the candles and chandeliers you had for a light source. It was suffocating, and it felt so dirty to be in, like you’d come out tainted in the dark magic if you spent too long in there.”
I nod in understanding, giving her a small smile. “It wasn’t always like that. It happened after fourth year, but got worse after fifth year.” She nods again in understanding, pursing her lips. Before she can say anything else, I clear my throat and open the double doors to the sitting area. “This is the Master suite,” I say softly. “Your room is through the door on the right,” I point at the cream colored door and then turn to the door on the left. “My room is through there,” I say. “You have a private bathroom in your room.”
She steps in slowly, taking in the bookshelves lining the walls, looking adoringly at the window perch, and running her fingers over the loveseat and chaise lounge in the room. When she turns back towards the door, she gasps, her hand coming to cover her mouth when she sees the flat screen TV I had Theo help me install with a DVD player and nearly a hundred DVD’s since I wasn’t sure what exactly she would like.
“Do you like it?”
She nods, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I was trying to think of a way to bring my Muggle technology here and make it work, but this is amazing. How did you do it?”
“Theo,” I answer with a shrug. “I wanted you to be comfortable. There’s a radio in your room, and we added some electrical outlets for anything else you might need. There are also some electrical outlets throughout the house for your convenience, and–”
I’m cut off when she suddenly throws her arms around my neck, the blanket pooling behind her. She’s stretched on her toes as she hugs me, and I tentatively wrap my arms around her middle, breathing in the scent of vanilla that’s just her. “Thank you, thank you, Draco. This means so much to me, really.”
I smile, my face heating. She pulls back and I’m shocked by the genuine joy in her eyes. She’s still smiling, and she steps away and picks the blanket up, folding it over arm and biting her lip. “I’m going to freshen up,” she says slowly.
I nod, unable to take my eyes off her. She starts walking towards her room, and I scramble in my mind for something else to say, a way to make sure I get to see her soon. “Breakfast,” I blurt. She turns to look at me, her brows furrowed in confusion and I quickly find the words I meant to say. “Would you join me for breakfast?”
She smiles and nods. “An hour okay?”
“Perfect,” I agree. “We can meet here and walk together.”
She nods again before opening her door and slipping into her room. I stand in the sitting room a little while longer, staring after her.
Her smile and the happy sparks in her eyes are burned into my memory, and I plan to do whatever it takes to see her smiles directed at me. I got to my own room to get ready for breakfast, plotting what else I could do to make her that happy again.
***
My bedroom is just as beautiful as the rest of the house is, following the pattern of whites, pale blues, and golds throughout. The bed is in the center of the room, and although it’s huge, there’s still so much space around it. On either side of the bed are twin white bedside tables with gold accessories, a lamp on both, and the one on the right side has a black remote. There’s a beautiful vanity on one side of the room with twin doors on either side, one probably leading to the bathroom and the other maybe towards a closet? I walk over to investigate, and find my guesses were correct, although the closet could be a room on its own with how large it is. There are already clothes hanging on the hangers, and I run my fingers through the variety of materials, mesmerized by how amazing every fabric feels. There are shelves filled with shoes and handbags, a case with jewelry shining brightly inside, and an ottoman in the center of the closet. There’s still plenty of empty space for me to fill with my own things I plan to bring from home, but it seems that Draco - or whoever filled the closet - made sure to fill the closet with clothing for all seasons and occasions.
I step out of the closet and close the door behind me softly, taking in the remainder of the room. A large window on one side brightens up the room, and there’s a small desk by the window - not large enough for me to work on, but a good size if I want to write a letter to my parents or friends. It overlooks the Manor’s grounds, giving me a clear view of the green expanse, small lake, large blooming trees dancing with the light breeze, a garden, and - I nearly scoff when I see them - peacocks that are wandering the grounds. Mounted on the wall in front of the bed is another large television, and I smile thinking about how much thought Draco put into the room. I was worried I’d have to ask him and convince him to let me bring some of my electronics and appliances from home, but he seems to be fully on board with it. Beside the television, bookshelves fill the remaining space and I trail my gaze over them as I take in the titles filling the shelves, my brows furrowing at the familiarity.
I gasp as realization dawns on me, and I swing the bedroom door open to the sitting area between our rooms. “Malfoy!”
He pokes his head out of his room a few seconds after I shout his name, his brows furrowed, holding a white towel around his hips. His hair is dripping wet over his forehead, his body glistening with soap and water. “Everything okay?”
I nod, leaning against my doorframe and swallowing the lump in my throat as I try to not take in the lean muscle that makes up his body, or the pale blonde trail of hair that goes from just beneath his belly button and trails down to his–
He clears his throat, and I drag my eyes up, cheeks blazing and he’s smirking, opening the door wider so his body isn’t blocked by it. “Everything okay, wife?” He asks again, playing with his tongue piercing.
I nod, clearing my throat. “The books on my shelves,” I start, clearing my throat again and fidgeting with my hands. “Did you get them?”
He nods, smiling with his teeth now. “Yes, I bought your entire wishlist, along with a few titles I thought you might enjoy based on what you had on your wishlist.” He says it proudly, his chest puffing slightly. “I thought it would be a good welcome home present, seeing as neither of us can work for the next month, it’ll give you something to do in the meantime.”
My jaw drops slightly, and I blink rapidly at him. “Do you know how much that must’ve cost?” My voice comes out squeakier than I’d like, and I clear my throat and try again, slower and quieter. “There were at least three hundred books there, you really didn’t have to-”
“No wife of mine is going to have a wish unfulfilled, and money is no issue. Really, that didn’t make a dent in our accounts, darling.” He shrugs as he says this, pushing his hair from his face with one hand. “Make a list of anything else you might want, I’ll get it for you.”
“No,” I say quickly. “Really, this is too much. Not just the books, but the clothes and shoes, and everything else you've done.”
He laughs, stepping out of his room, his hand still gripping the towel around his hips although it shifts with every step. His chest and arms are covered in so many tattoos, and I make sense of some of the designs as he walks closer.
The entire front of his chest is composed of thorns and roses, doves and butterflies peppering empty spaces here and there. On his abdomen there are twin snakes on his hips, mouths open and tongues out, both pointed slightly downward and accentuating the trail to his groin. On his right arm, he has a tattoo of Death, from The Tales of Beedle the Bard . On his right arm you can still see his dark mark, and a constellation above it with a painted dark sky.
“My sweet wife, you do not have to worry about anything. I want to provide for you,” he drawls, stopping just a few feet from me and I shift nervously at his closeness, the possessive tone in which he speaks. “I have more gold than I know what to do with, and I've always enjoyed giving gifts. I want you to be happy and comfortable in your new home.”
I soften at his words slightly, leaning a little more heavily on the doorframe. “You're very kind,” I whisper after a few seconds of silence.
“It’s been known to be one of my good qualities,” he jokes. “Now, I'm going to finish up my shower so we can have breakfast. The elves are looking forward to meeting you at breakfast, I'm afraid I couldn't hold them off until dinner.”
I nod, giving a small smile at the way he speaks of them so fondly. He turns and heads to his room, and I can't help but look at the beautiful designs on his back. A dragon covers the expanse of his back, made as if from smoke and curling as if protecting something - although the space between it is empty.
After he's entered his room, I turn to mine and make my way to the bathroom hastily, gaping at everything as I strip out of my wedding gown. Instead of taking a soak in the ridiculously large porcelain tub in the center of the room, I go to the shower in the corner and get the water ready. The bathroom is in the same color palette and Victorian style as the remainder of the house, everything shiny in creams, blues and golds. I step into the shower once the temperature is how I prefer and sigh in contentment at the feeling, loving how large the shower is and how even with the lights off, the glass doors allow the light from the window to brighten up the space so nicely. While I wash my hair, I think of how Draco is now and try to make sense of how he could be so different from how I knew him back at Hogwarts.
Honestly, after being in school with him for so long and remembering how much of an ass he could be, it's strange and a little off putting how kind and thoughtful he is. After second year, he never really gave me a hard time - not since he had called me a Mudblood at least, and Pansy had mentioned a few years ago that he'd felt so guilty afterwards that he'd thrown up. After that day, even when he goaded Harry and Ron into arguments, he never mentioned me or looked at me with any disdain. And while he'd never apologized for it, I got the feeling that he was sorry throughout the years and we formed a silent agreement to be cordial, even if we couldn't be friends. I understood of course why we couldn't be friends, his Father didn't exactly hide his hatred for those who weren't purebloods, and I found it sad that Draco’s choices in friends were almost pre-determined for him by his Father and upbringing.
Although I guess a war can change people, even if he was on the wrong side. He had refused to identify us when we were captured, and Harry had said he hadn't wanted to kill Dumbledore and had lowered his wand even if he had disarmed him. I'm sure living with a murdering psychopath like Voldemort didn't leave him with many choices when it came to taking the Dark Mark, and part of me always resented Dumbledore for not helping him when he should've and placing such a large burden on Harry's shoulders, and selfishly, my own. Knowing that my best friend had to die because he was a horcrux was a shit position to be in, and although thankfully he lived thanks to the resurrection stone, I still never forgave Dumbledore for everything he put us through.
I shake my head and try to clear my thoughts of the past, trying instead to focus on the now and the future. Last night after coming through the floo to Draco's home, I had realized how severely unprepared I was for the whole ‘I’m married and moving in with someone I hardly know, and I have to have a child with this person or I'll go to jail’ situation. I'd sat on the loveseat just going through everything that is supposed to come next, and coming up with new questions, and a part of me was still trying to figure out a way to take the whole thing back and pretend it never happened and not be married. Hopefully at breakfast we can talk about things going forward and maybe get to know each other a bit, because I clearly don't know Draco as he is now; a man.
Although love is so far from my mind when I think of him, part of me is hopeful that we can be friends and maybe this whole marriage thing won't be such a bummer, but something we're doing together as friends to help the Wizarding World.
When I make my way to the sitting room, Draco is already sitting on one of the chairs, newspaper in hand and glasses on his face as he reads through the paper. He looks up when I approach and gives me a smile, removing his glasses swiftly and folding the paper before placing both on the coffee table and standing.
“Ready, darling?”
I wrinkle my nose, shaking my head. “Darling?”
“You don't like it?”
I shake my head, a small laugh slipping past my lips. “It's a little strange, you can just call me by my name, you know.”
He puts his hand on his chin, feigning going deep into thought as he contemplates before shaking his head. “Nah, that won't do. We're not there yet,” he says with a shrug. “I also can't go around calling you Granger now that you're my wife though, sweetheart.”
“You're insufferable,” I say in a low voice with a roll of my eyes. “And no, I think the last person who called me sweetheart was Professor Lockhart, and looking back I think that's creepy even if I was flattered at the time.”
He chuckles and offers his arm, and although I find it strange, I take it since I don't know where we're going. “I used to hate that he did that,” he admits as we walk out of the room and past closed doors to the stairs. “I had written to my Father about it, but he didn't care to do much about it since it didn't directly affect me. He told me not to worry about you, that your parents would handle it if they cared.”
I scoff, watching my feet as we walk down the stairs. I'm wearing light blue jeans today with a simple T-shirt and strappy sandals, feeling underdressed with him wearing trousers, dress shoes, and a light blue button up shirt. “I never told my parents much about school after all the trouble Harry, Ron, and I would get in. They knew of very little of my time at school. I didn't want them to worry and pull me out or something.” I end my sentence on a whisper, distracted by the sights as we walk through the Manor. We walk past the sitting room we were in yesterday, and past a formal dining room and several other rooms with double doors cracked open.
“We’ll do a proper tour after breakfast,” Draco says when he notices me trying to peek in while we walk by them.
I nod, and we make our way quietly to where we’re having breakfast. It’s a smaller dining room, with a table large enough to sit six comfortably. There’s a gramophone on a small console table by the window, and a rack of wines on one wall. There’s a bar cart with all kinds of liquor and mixes sitting on it, and off to the right side of the room there’s what looks to be a decent sized kitchen. I’m only a tiny bit surprised when I see the Muggle toaster, an air fryer, a Keurig, and an electric tea kettle. Above the stove there’s even a microwave, and I smile.
“You really embraced Muggle appliances,” I say pointedly.
Draco shrugs, motioning for me to sit at one of the chairs and sitting directly in front of me, completely ignoring the seat at the head of the table. “I will admit, some of them were here before you and I were matched. Theo brought the Keurig and the air fryer, taught me a few things on them and I’ve quite enjoyed them since. It’s nice when the house elves aren’t here, although they usually leave meals prepared ahead of time.”
I hum in understanding, smiling. “Theo did mention you two have known each other your entire lives,” I say slowly, feeling nervous about talking to him all of a sudden. I don’t think we’ve ever spent this long together, and now being alone with him in his home is a little strange. “He’s told a few interesting stories over the years, although I find some of it hard to believe.”
He laughs, steel eyes on the table as he twists his signet ring around on his finger. “We’ve been through a lot together, and yes, some of it probably wouldn’t be believable to people who didn’t witness it. I’m assuming he told you about the broom incident?”
I nod, a blush creeping onto my cheeks.
He watches me for a second, biting his lip before he leans forward and speaks in a low, husky voice. “If you must know, yes. I lost a bet and flew around the entire Hogwarts grounds on my broom, naked. It was quite liberating, I highly recommend it. Sometimes I do it here, actually. Whenever I feel like I’m suffocating or I’m overly stressed,” he licks his lips. “I could show you, if you’re interested.”
I stutter, coughing and choking on my saliva. “I don’t…I don’t fly,” I say finally, trying to make my voice sound strong and not like I’m imagining the way his thighs would grip the wood of the broom, or how his muscles would flex as he stretches or leans one way or the other to control his movements. He was always an exceptional flyer - not that I paid attention, it was simply obvious and Harry would complain about it often.
He grins, almost as if he can read my mind. “You can watch, little dove. That’s also a really good feeling, being watched. Empowering,” he says simply, although his tone hints at more than just flying.
I gape, my mouth drying. Just thinking of his naked, tattooed body illuminated by the moonlight as he flies through the grounds, his head tilted back and his platinum hair shining white in the moonlight. His alabaster skin, beautifully marked, perfectly toned, the pale trail of hair that leads to what I have heard is a very –
A sudden
POP
and we’re no longer alone, four elves standing just to the side of the table. “Master Draco! Mistress Malfoy!”
Draco’s eyes are on me, smirking like he knows exactly what I was thinking just now. He looks to the house elves and his smile softens to one of fondness as he stands, walking to them. I stand nervously, wiping my hands on my jeans and rolling my shoulders back as I try to regain my composure and cool the heat on my cheeks and chest.
I’m so fucked.
“Hermione, please,” I say softly, smiling at the four house elves. They’re all wearing nice clothes, and two of them have bows on the top of their heads.
“Millie is most excited to meet Mistress Hermione,” the smallest - and most accessorized - house elf says, stepping forward and reaching for my hand. I give it to her, and she kisses it, her green eyes beaming as she gives me a smile that spreads across her entire face. “Master Draco you is a kind witch. Millie thinks he is forgetting to tell us you are also very pretty. Millie can’t wait to serve Mistress.”
“Thank you, Millie, that is very kind. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Millie moves to the side, straightening her purple and pink dress and patting her large purple bow, before bowing deeply. Another house elf steps forward, more shy than Millie was and fidgeting with his bow tie as he introduces himself. “I is named Tippy,” he says simply. “We is welcoming you to Malfoy Manor, Mistress.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you Tippy,” I say with a bow of my head.
“Missy is also welcoming you, Mistress. Missy enjoys cooking and gardens, Missy is most proud of them,” she beams, holding out a small bouquet of daisies to me.
I smile as I take the small bouquet, holding it to my chest and bowing my head at her. “Thank you, Missy. It’s really great to meet you.”
Missy beams and steps back, nudging the last house elf forward. She steps forward shyly as well, her hands twirling the bottom of her orange dress. “I is Bitsy, Mistress. Bitsy works with Tippy at night, we isn’t much into company.”
I nod in understanding, making mental notes. “It’s an honor to meet you, Bitsy.”
They all bow at once, and Millie excitedly walks to Draco, tugging on his hand. “Now?”
He chuckles, nodding at the little elf. With that, everyone except Millie disappears, and then the table is suddenly filled with delicious smelling food and pastries, and Millie claps her hands. “Millie is hoping Mistress and Master Malfoy enjoy breakfast before Minister arrives. Minister should not be interrupting Mistress and Master on honeymoon, no he should not.” Millie walks around setting finishing touches on the table, adding garnishes to a few plates and rearranging plates, then pouring drinks into the cups that have appeared where Draco and I were previously sitting.
I risk a glance at Draco, and he’s stiff as he walks to the table, avoiding my gaze and motioning for me to sit before he tucks me into the table and walking to his own seat. He places a napkin on his lap, eyes still downcast, before he speaks. “The Minister said he has some concerns he wants to go over with us,” he explains. “He will be here at eleven.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, glancing at the grandfather clock on one side of the room. One hour from now. Suddenly my appetite is being crushed, but I force myself to fill my plate with some fruit and a piece of toast, aware that Millie would probably be disappointed if I didn’t even try to eat. When I notice her watching eagerly, I also grab a scone and shoot her a nervous smile.
“You didn’t mention he’d be coming,” I tell Draco. He scoops some eggs onto his plate along with some toast and sausage, brows wrinkled in concentration.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” he says. “I’ve got it handled.”
“Got what handled?”
“He’s worried about our living arrangements,” he answers after a minute. He looks at Millie and gives her a soft smile, nodding, and she disappears with a POP. “He also thinks it is necessary to remind us of our roles from what I’ve gathered, not that it’s really any of his business.”
I sigh, slumping slightly in my seat. “We do need to talk about…our roles..” the words taste like ash in my mouth and I take a sip of orange juice, nearly moaning at how good and fresh it tastes. “And what’s wrong with our living arrangements?”
“He’s aware of your Muggle residence,” Draco explains, forking food into his mouth. “I have already taken care of that though, just waiting on some paperwork. You have nothing to worry about, little dove.”
“Don’t call me that,” I mutter. “What do you mean you’ve taken care of it? What are you doing to my house?”
He grins, shaking his head. “You’ll find out soon, pumpkin.” He winks, and I scowl at him, taking a bite of probably the best scone I’ve ever had in my life.
Distracted by such a delicious breakfast, I decided to save my questions for later and enjoy the breakfast. After tasting the scone, my appetite is suddenly back in full force demanding more of the decadent food and I eat two platefuls with a variety of food before I slump inelegantly in my seat and sigh contentedly, flushing slightly at Draco’s watchful gaze.
Chapter Text
After breakfast, Draco gave me a tour of the Manor, and I was shocked at how large it was. There's a ballroom on one wing, and so many rooms in the other wing, each serving its own purpose. Below the first floor - what Draco called the ground floor, although I called it a basement - was a fully done area with an indoor pool, a home gym, and a training room with a running track. The first floor houses the ballroom, formal dining room, a drawing room, a living room, a library (that I'm excited to explore), and two kitchens - one being the one we had breakfast in with the smaller dining room.
The second floor has our rooms, our individual offices, a study, and three bedrooms with private bathrooms. The third floor has seven bedrooms, a drawing room, a private dining room and yet another kitchen - something I mocked him for, but he insisted it was necessary when he had too many guests. The fourth floor is a conservatory, with full glass walls and a roof made of glass. While we were there, he pointed at a cozy cottage on the property that he said was the house elves’ home, and a warm feeling spread through my chest at the sight of them having their own space instead of being confined to a small room or living in the walls or a dungeon somewhere.
“We’ll take the meeting in our office,” Draco says as we walk down the hall together, my arm once again looped through his. “It’s formal for occasions like this, right downstairs and away from your personal office. There's also a recording device hidden in one of the books, I'll show you which one, just in case you ever need it for something.”
I nod, suddenly feeling very anxious and regretting having such a large breakfast as we near the office. My stomach is in knots, and my hands have a tremble that I try to hide by fidgeting with my shirt and then my wand.
We walk into the office and he shows me where the recording device is, telling me how it works and how to use it in case I ever need it. I try to take the information in, but my stomach is knotted with nerves and my breaths are coming in a little faster than usual.
“Hey, you okay?” He asks suddenly, his hands on my elbows as he guides me to the couch and I sit. He kneels before me, his face scrunched in concern as he watches me.
What if Ron has asked for me? I'd been ignoring the letters he was sending to the office for months, not even opening them most of the time, but Harry had mentioned that Lavender and he were getting separated and that he wanted to be matched with me to “reconcile our relationship”. What if Kingsley decides to give me to him the same way he gave me to Malfoy? Will I have a say in the matter? I don't want to be married, but if I had to decide between the two, I'd stay with Malfoy over Ron; I know that at least Malfoy won't kill me in a fit of rage - at least based on how highly Pansy and Theo seem to think of him.
“Granger,” Draco says sharply, grabbing my face in his hands gently and rubbing my cheeks. His steel grey eyes are clouded with concern, and when the light from the lamp in the corner hits them, I notice for the first time the tiny specks of blue and green in them.
I tense at his touch, but don't shrink away fighting my fear to meet his eyes as he makes comforting hushing sounds. The ring on my finger warms again, and I clench my hand, suddenly remembering one of the questions I had for him and figuring now is as good a time as any. “What did you do to the rings?”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
I pull my face from his hands, raising my hand and holding it between us. He's still kneeling before me, one of his hands beside me on the couch and the other wrapped around my calf, rubbing circles on it that I find oddly comforting. “It gets warm,” I try to explain. “Like actual heat, just the ring.”
He gives me a small downturned smile, his cheeks tinting. “Uh, that's me, I think.”
I raise a brow in question and he goes on quickly, standing and turning his back to me as he picks at lint I highly doubt he has on his shoulder. “The rings are a set. So I can sometimes sense your emotions through it, almost like a mood ring. Negative feelings - anger, sadness, fear - it makes the ring cold. Positive feelings however, will warm the ring. It's a way to keep the couple connected. It is supposed to help bond the couple during the initial relationship, it'll fade to near nothing in about a month unless one of us is projecting our feelings through it to the other.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, frowning down at my hand as I set it on my lap and spin the ring. It shines brightly under the lights. “Is that all it does?” I ask quietly.
He stays quiet for a few seconds, then a minute and I look up to find him watching me as if he’s contemplating how much to say. “I added some tracking magic to it,” he finally confesses. “I know about Greyback tracking you, and I didn't want to take the risk of him or anyone else finding you and taking you somewhere you couldn't be found. The magic I added allows me to track you no matter where you are, if there's wards, or if you're too far to apparate. It works as a tracker and port key, although the portkey part is tricky and is only one-way at the moment. It’ll let me go to you, but I haven’t found a way to make it work as a port key to a secondary location if we were needing to make an escape.”
I gape, mouth opening and closing multiple times before I can finally settle on a response. There are so many thoughts running through my head, like how he knows about Greyback and why he thought he needed to make a port key ring, or why he thinks it’s okay for him to track me like I’m his property, but the only thing that comes out is: “Were you ever going to tell me?”
He nods, crossing his arms defensively. “Tonight, actually. I was going to talk to you about the rings and safety measures put in place at the Manor.”
“Do they do anything else? And what safety measures?”
“I had a curse breaker remove most of the other magic that was embedded in the rings. The Malfoy's like to protect their family, and some of the magic was just plain cruel. As for safety measures, we can go into it after Kingsley leaves. He should be here in about five minutes and I wanted to let you know what Percy said this meeting was about. Apparently the Minister is concerned about you having a private residence in Muggle London, even though we've not even been married a full day.” He stands and walks to the desk, pulling out the all too familiar packet with the Marriage Law and the degrees set forth by the Ministry. “However, nowhere in this does it say that you cannot maintain a separate home; it just says that we must live together until such time and heir is produced. It is not uncommon in pureblood marriages for the bride to also maintain separate finances and residences in case the marriage sours.”
I sigh, head in my hands. “Does he want me to give up my home?”
“I think that's what he wants, yes. But we're not letting that happen, Granger.”
I lift my head, glaring at him. “And how exactly are we doing that? Because if it had been up to me, I wouldn't be here at all, I didn't want to get married, Malfoy.”
He nods, his face surprisingly gentle and full of understanding. “I know,” he murmurs. “I'm trying to help,” he says after a second’s hesitation. “I'm on your side.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “I'll get rid of the house if I have to. Once we're divorced, I'll just find somewhere else to live.”
He blanches, jaw working. “Divorced?” His voice comes out rough, a near growl and I roll my eyes, although I feel sweat beading at the nape of my neck sensing his growing anger.
“Yes,” I say, sounding far braver and steadier than I feel. “Once we've done our part and met the five year requirement of the union set by the Ministry, we can get a divorce and go our separate ways.”
“If we have a child, that will–”
“No.” I cut him off, standing and walking to him, tilting my head to glare at him. “I do not intend to give you an heir. I'll do what needs to be done, but I intend to leave this marriage one way or another. If there's a child, we will be amicable, maybe we'll be friends, but the child is mine .”
Anger radiates off him in waves, and when he opens his mouth to speak the fireplace roars to life as someone steps through. He clenches his hands into fists before stepping away, his gaze hardening and face going blank, a coldness going through my ring that makes me jump and grip it to my chest until it goes back to normal.
I step further away from Draco, rubbing my hands together and breathing through the sensations going through my body. Part of me hates that I said what I said, especially knowing he's been making an effort, but I refuse to stay married to someone I didn’t choose. While my thirteen year-old self would be thrilled at having a chance to get to know him better and build a relationship, I'm not thirteen anymore and physical attraction isn't enough. I don't know Draco, and he doesn't know me. Both of us have lived different lives, and while I don’t resent him or even fault him for the choices he had to make to stay alive when Voldemort was living in his home, I don’t exactly know how I can live with someone who watched me be tortured. Maybe it’s stupid, but it’s humiliating that he saw me at my weakest and knows what I sound like when I’m in genuine agony. Add to that my trauma from Ron, and it’s too much too fast. I still don’t like being touched, sex makes me feel gross, and having a child feels like it would be a noose around my neck controlled by whomever the father was and the Ministry.
I turn to face the Minister when I hear him clap his hands together, schooling my features into one of irritation at the man. He's smiling as he looks between Draco and I, before walking to me and holding out his arms like he’s expecting a hug. “Hermione, sweetheart, you look radiant. I am sorry for dropping in on such short notice, but I wanted to address some concerns regarding your husband and yourself. Moving forward, I imagine your match will be observed very closely, and I was hoping you would become the face of the new mandate.”
I step back from him, the backs of my thighs hitting the desk behind me and he stops his advance, his hands dropping awkwardly at his sides. Draco steps forward, angling himself between the Minister and myself. I’m shocked by the move momentarily, until I realize this is all probably part of his facade to look like he’s in power and give the idea that he’s the perfect husband.
“Please take a seat, Minister,” he says curtly. Draco turns to me and motions for me to take a seat behind the desk, and I do so simply because I'm not sure what else to do. He stands beside me, his arm grazing my shoulder, as we look down at Kingsley on the opposite side of the table. I'm sure it's intentional that his seat is lower than the one I'm currently occupying, and I bite my lip to hide a smirk at Kingsley shifting uncomfortably in his seat, looking around the sides as if he’s looking for a way to raise it.
“You know, usually people request meetings twenty four hours in advance,” Draco starts. “And usually it's a request , not just an announcement that you will be dropping by regardless. You, Minister, are lucky I did not close the floo to refuse the meeting altogether. Seeing how accommodating my wife and myself have been, I'm sure you'll be just as accommodating as we go through this conversation.” His voice sounds passive, but his stance and the energy radiating from his body says otherwise.
I shift in my seat, feeling as if I were the one being scolded by Draco even though he's very obviously talking to the Minister. His tone leaves nothing to be argued, asserting his dominance in a way that makes a pleasant shiver run down my spine. The Minister gives a tight smile to Draco and I, clasping his hands in his lap nervously, and it’s impossible to miss the drop of sweat that runs down his temple. Draco’s finger brushes my shoulder lightly, and I find myself leaning back in the chair slightly until his hand shifts to sit on my shoulder.
“Yes, of course,” he says. “I do apologize for that, I shouldn't have assumed you'd be available. Thank you for having me.” His eyes drift to Draco’s hand on my shoulder before they meet mine, and he has a satisfied smirk dancing on his lips when he speaks again. “Perhaps I'll just get straight to the point then, if that's alright with you, Mrs. Malfoy.”
I glare at him, clenching my hands on my lap, wanting to hex him. “It's Granger-Malfoy, but I still prefer to go by Granger.”
He nods, clearing his throat. “Alright, then let’s go ahead and–”
“Address my wife properly, Minister,” Draco cuts in. “You seem to be forgetting your manners.”
The Minister clenches his jaw, glaring at Draco. “Yes, Mrs. Granger, my apologies. May we continue now?”
Draco squeezes my shoulder, and I look up at him with furrowed brows, confused as to what he wants me to do. He raises a brow, and I sigh, turning back to Kingsley and giving a tight smile. “Please, proceed,” I wave him on.
“Thank you, Mrs. Granger. I am here because according to our records you have a residence in Muggle London, which we do not see necessary now that you are a married woman and our records have been updated to show that you will be residing at Mr. Malfoy’s home.”
“Since when is it a crime to own a residence outside of marriage?” I ask, crossing my hands on the table in an attempt to keep myself from squirming in my seat. Draco’s hands squeeze on my shoulder in encouragement before he drops his hand and walks around the table, leaning on the corner facing the Minister, his legs crossed in front of him. His back is turned to me, but when he turns his face to the side slightly, I can still see some of his face, though his attention is on the Minister.
Kingsley shifts in his seat, seeming smaller now that Draco is looming over him so close. To be fair, Draco has always been tall and the Minister is probably only an inch or so taller than Harry. “It’s not a crime, we just see it as a waste of resources–”
“Are you paying for my residence?” I cut in sharply. “Because as you said, it is a Muggle residence, and I use my own funds to pay for it.”
“I’m sorry, I used the wrong words, I simply meant that it’s not safe. We have Aurors spread thin as it is hunting the remaining Death Eaters, and having some stationed near your home, undercover, is a strain on the Auror Department.” He sounds apologetic, and I soften slightly.
“Well, seeing as I’m not living there for the near future, you could just pull the Aurors off the post,” I offer quietly. Draco shoots me a disapproving look over his shoulder, and I shrug my shoulders in question.
“I think everyone would feel more comfortable if you simply sold your residence,” Kingsley says in a cheerful tone. “You are a married woman and the Malfoy name comes with many residences in more secure locations with blood wards to keep enemies out. It would also look great if everyone saw how cooperative and happy you and Mr. Malfoy are with your match. You have always been an exemplary witch, Mrs. Granger, people look up to you. We expect backlash with the new marriage law, and your match going well despite your pasts could sway public opinion.”
I bristle, hands clenching. What a bastard. Of course this is what this is about. “No.”
“No?”
“No, I will not be an exemplary witch for this stupid, barbaric law. You knew I didn’t want this, in fact I begged you for hours, and you still forced me to do this, so no, I will not be doing you any favors. I will keep my home, and I will speak ill of your marriage law every chance I get.”
He stands, his face contorting in anger and his skin reddening. His hand moves to his wand and Draco is immediately standing before him, snatching his wand from his hand as soon as he takes hold of it, throwing it onto the table behind him without looking back and placing a hand on Kingsley’s chest when he tries to advance towards it. “You forget your manners again, Minister. Apologize to my wife, and find a way to keep yourself calm or you will find yourself thrown on your ass into the floo.”
Kingsley glares at Draco, his breath ragged, but he steps back and shakes off Draco’s hand. “I am the Minister,” he says quietly.
“You’re in our home,” Draco says simply, shrugging.
Kingsley sighs, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Granger.”
I nod, moving his wand to the side of the table.
“I did you a favor,” Kingsley says quietly. “I did you both a favor.”
I look up, frowning. “What are you talking about?”
“You have Death Eaters after you, Fenrir Greyback has been passing your scent around to every werewolf and other beasts who want a Dark Wizard in power. I matched you with someone who could protect you, who knows how to fight Dark Wizards and Death Eaters, who despite his past will treat you well, and I have given you the best chance of survival.” Kingsley steps around Draco, his eyes on mine, pleading. “I am asking you to please just play along with this, lure Greyback and his followers out so we can finally finish this.”
I stare at him as I realize what he’s implying, what he’s said. “You chose the matches? Was any of this even real or just some sick way for you to remind people of how powerful you are? And how dare you use me as bait!”
“I am only responsible for your match with Draco Malfoy. The others were handled elsewhere, but I personally requested your match with Draco, thinking solely of your safety. His feelings for you were a bonus, but not necessary, I only needed him to cooperate, and I could’ve done that a multitude of ways.”
“Feelings?” I look to Draco, who has his back turned to me, his shoulders tense and even from behind I can tell his jaw is clenched. “Draco has no feelings for me; I’m not his type. You should’ve matched him to some other pureblood witch; she would’ve had no trouble giving up her home.” I swallow the lump in my throat, look back at Kingsley. “I want to keep my home. Pull the Aurors, but I will keep my home.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mrs. Granger. You signed a contract that you would comply with the Ministry’s mandates, and the Law states that you will reside with your husband. Your assets and Mr. Malfoy’s assets will be shared. You are not allowed a residence that is solely yours and seeing as Mr. Malfoy has no Muggle identification or a way to be added to the lease, you will have to give up your home. You have 72 hours to comply, or the Ministry will terminate it for you and you will be fined–”
“That won’t be necessary,” Draco says sharply, turning and walking to the desk. He avoids my eyes as he opens the drawer beside me, pulling out a manila folder with the Ministry logo on it. “I have already started the process at the Muggle Liaison office to get Muggle identification and records made. It should be completed within the week, but I’m sure you can rush it if it means so much to you for both our names to be on the lease. However, my wife will not be giving up her home. As you are aware, she is Muggle born and as such has Muggle friends and family. Seeing as how they cannot visit here due to the statute of secrecy, she needs a location where she can see them.”
I frown, staring at the manila folder. The date stamped is from the day our match was announced. Kingsley and Draco are quiet, and eventually Kinglsey sighs and nods, exhaustion and defeat making his shoulders slump. “Fine,” he mumbles. “I will reduce the number of Aurors on shift near your home to two per shift instead of four. I expect your name to be on the lease by the end of the month, Mr. Malfoy.”
I nod quickly, and Draco gives a single nod. Relief floods through my body at not having to give up the home I have had since leaving Ron, where I found my own peace and safety, and built myself up.
“I hope the two of you enjoy your honeymoon,” Kingsley says, grabbing his wand off the table slowly and shoving it into his cloak’s pocket. “Do not forget that you have three months to consummate the marriage,” he adds. “A year to produce an heir before fertility doctors and potions are introduced.”
I suddenly feel like vomiting, the reminder sinking in my stomach like lead. I taste acid in my mouth, and I cringe, watching Draco lead Kingsley to the floo with stiff shoulders.
Shit.
Three months. Three months to consummate the marriage. Three months to either find a way out of having sex with Malfoy or to find a way to do it without him finding out how truly damaged I am. I have only had sex with one guy since Ron; a Muggle I met at the club. I thought doing it with someone non-magical would make it easier, but I still felt claustrophobic and terrified afterwards. I’d puked afterwards, blaming it on alcohol when the guy had asked. I’d gone home and scrubbed myself raw, only seeing and feeling Ron on my skin even though he hadn’t touched me for months by that point. After three years with Ron, I never felt like my skin forgot his touch. Every touch from someone else made me feel sick, unsure of my abilities to defend myself – magically or otherwise. I felt powerless, restrained, silenced.
The only male I have been able to truly get comfortable with, surprisingly, was Theodore Nott. He’s kind and funny, and he’s understanding, and even though I know he’s an Auror and has probably killed people in the past, I know he wouldn’t hurt me. He’s been there every time a guy gets too handsy at the club, helping me to fend them off and talking me through my panic afterwards, helping me to have the courage to go back and not give up on myself. Theo was my safe person, him and Pansy had seen me through dark days without demanding information, just rotting away with me when I needed it and letting me cry and scream without judgment. Theo probably took the brunt of it most often, letting me hit him, cry and scream at him about how it wasn't fair, how I couldn't help what happened during the war, how I didn't know he was going to come back. He never complained, instead he'd hold out his arms and tell me to keep going, to let it all out on him because he could handle it. And the next day, we wouldn't talk about it. He always slept on my couch and made breakfast, had a fresh pot of coffee ready when I woke.
And now, I have to find a way to consummate the marriage and bear a child for this stupid law with someone I barely know. It’s humiliating, degrading, suffocating.
Maybe I can find some sort of lust potion or use some amortentia to make it easier, give everything a haze of ‘I want this’. I should practice my occluding again, maybe I can just pretend I’m somewhere else while Draco…ugh. Or maybe Draco will be like Ron and force himself on me; I'm sure he doesn't want to go to Azkaban or lose his magic; he'd do whatever it took to protect himself.
“Granger?”
I look up, my vision blurry. I blink a few times and my vision clears, my cheeks damp and Draco standing before me with his face twisted with worry. I force myself to smile, using the few things I remember from the Occluding books to force the fear from the forefront of my mind and calm myself enough to where I can speak without vomiting. “I’m fine,” I say softly. “I need some rest,” I add as I stand, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans. My cheeks feel dry and tight where my tears have dried, but as I occlude, I’m able to ignore the embarrassment that tries to creep up, thinking instead of an immovable brick wall – strong, unmovable.
He watches me with furrowed brows, biting his lip. His lips move, but I don’t register the words as I move past him, thinking only of going to my room and locking myself in, screaming myself hoarse, and then taking a calming draught so I can come up with a plan for how I’m going to have sex with Draco Malfoy.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” I hear myself say distantly as I walk out the door.
I make it to my room and slump onto the bed, casting a quick silencing charm and then dropping the brick wall I’d envisioned around my feelings of rage, despair, irritation, fear, nerves, desperation, and claustrophobia.
I let it out with a piercing scream that shattered the vase of flowers on my bedside table. I hold my head in my hands, my fingers tugging my hair so hard I'm sure I've ripped some out, but I don't care. I scream until my mouth if filled with a slight metallic taste and my throat is burning from the strain, my vocal cords begging for reprieve and hoarse by the end. And then I sob, not knowing how I'm going to be able to do this and picturing my future in Azkaban.
Notes:
Hey, everyone!
Here we get to see some of Hermione's fire, though not burning as brightly as we all wish it were. We also get to see a bit more of her internal struggles. Thank you so much for the love and comments, I read every single one of them and am loving it! Thank you, thank you! I love seeing what you guys think as the story progresses. Have a great weekend!
-Gen
Chapter 10: Twenty Questions
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After pacing outside her door for nearly two hours, feeling like my hand was going to fall off from the coldness radiating out from the ring, and wanting to rip my hair out trying to figure out what happened and coming up with more questions than answers, I finally feel the first jolt of warmth come from the ring and I freeze in my spot. I look down at the ring, wondering if I actually felt that heat or if I’m so desperate for a change that I imagined it. When I feel it a second time, lasting a few seconds, I finally exhale and walk to the chair in the sitting room, slumping into it with my elbows on my knees and head in my hands.
I already cleaned up the small vase of flowers that fell off the shelf by her bedroom, and replaced it with a new vase with fresh flowers in case she notices. She must’ve cast a silencing charm in her room, because I couldn’t hear a single noise, but a few times the walls shuddered and Millie popped in a few times squirming and asking if Hermione was alright. I didn’t know what to tell the little elf; I didn’t want to lie but I also didn’t want to worry her, so I told her that she just needed some time to adjust and that it’s been a few emotional weeks – which is ultimately not a lie.
A POP to my right makes me lift my head, and I find Millie standing before me twirling the ends of her lilac dress, shifting from one foot to the other. “Master Draco,” she begins in a shaky voice. “Can Millie bring Mistress Hermione lunch? Millie is thinking she is needing food, and-and a calming draught.” She says the last bit of the sentence with determination, and I smile fondly at her before nodding.
“Of course, Millie, you don’t have to ask me,” I say softly. I’ve always had a soft spot for Millie, mostly because she has been around my entire childhood and played with me, along with Dobby, but she always seemed the most patient. During the war, when Voldemort was living in the Mansion, I had freed all the House Elves, and although most of them refused to leave, they all knew they had the ability to go should their lives be in danger. After being enslaved to a dark wizard, I couldn’t imagine doing the same to the elves. Millie had tended to me when I was injured, never judged me when I cried, and watched over me when I would take some time to sleep.
Millie disappears with another POP, and I go back to my previous position, holding my head in my hands and going deep in thought.
I had no idea whatsoever that Hermione Granger knew occlumency, even if it didn’t look as intensive as what I knew. I could see the cracks in her eyes, but I didn’t want to push her and end up making things harder for her when it was clear that she was barely holding herself together as she made her way out of the room.
I’m almost certain that what upset her was Kingsley’s reminder of the deadline for consummation, but I had a plan to postpone that until she was ready. Nobody was going to rush something so intimate, and everyone could be bought with enough money. I also knew what to say to Kingsley to get him to back off, since having the Golden Girl in Azkaban wasn’t going to make it any easier to get Greyback to show his cards; it would just give him more time to recruit more werewolves and dark creatures to his side before she was released.
Her house was another non-issue. She had stood her ground, and even if we had to add my name to the lease in order to be compliant with the law, I had no intentions to take it from her or take actual ownership. Her home was hers, and I would respect whatever boundaries she set. If she decided she didn’t want me to step foot in her home again, then I wouldn’t, it was truly that simple.
While I’m disappointed, and more than a little hurt, that she has just been playing along until the appropriate time came around for a divorce, I can’t fully blame her. She had made it clear that she didn’t want to be married, and it’s not like she grew up in a society where arranged marriages were the norm. I always expected I’d end up in an arranged marriage of sorts, it was just a shock who it ended up being to. And while I’m not the least bit disappointed at who I wound up with, I imagine for her I come as a huge disappointment being a former Death Eater and her childhood bully. I had just hoped that when I asked if she’d give me a chance to get to know her and build a relationship, that she had actually meant it when she said yes. My vows were nothing but honest, I fully intended to make this as good for her as possible, and I wanted a life and honest relationship with her. I just need to prove to her how serious I am about this.
With new resolve and a plan forming in my mind, I hesitantly leave the sitting room and head to the potions room. I need to earn her trust somehow, and this is the most direct way.
***
Seven o’clock rolls around, and I wait in the sitting room for Hermione, figuring I should walk her to dinner in case she’s still not familiar with the lay of the house. I fidget with my sleeves, debating whether to keep them rolled to my elbows for a more casual look or whether I should unroll them. Or maybe I should change altogether, she was wearing jeans earlier, maybe I’m too formal even with my sleeves rolled up.
Her door opens just as I’m about to walk to my room to change, and to my surprise she’s wearing a red strapless sundress. She looks at me and gives me a nervous smile, though her eyes are rimmed red and she still looks sad. “Is this okay?” she asks quietly, motioning to her dress and black flats.
I nod, walking to her and stopping a foot from her. “You look perfect,” I murmur, clenching my fists at my sides to stop myself from pulling her into a hug she seems to desperately need. Her eyes track the movement and she steps back, her lips pursing, and I frown before releasing my fists, trying to keep them relaxed at my sides instead. “I thought we could walk together,” I say.
She watches my hands a little longer, and I catalogue the move, wondering if maybe I’ve given off the impression that I’m aggressive or that I would hit a woman, but then she looks at me and nods. Before I can offer my arm, she’s walking to the door and opening it, slipping into the hall with me following behind her as she leads the way to the dining room we were in this morning. I easily catch up and walk beside her, keeping my hands relaxed beside me.
Her steps falter in the entryway when she sees the table covered in takeout from multiple restaurants. I called Theo and asked him for the names of popular Muggle restaurants, and some of Hermione’s favorites, making a list and making a trip to five different places to get dinner for tonight. Upon getting back to the Manor, I realized I’d easily gotten enough food to feed ten, but I wasn’t sure what she would prefer and wanted to be prepared. I’d also sent the house elves home early, giving them the night off, so we’d have privacy for what I had planned.
“McDonald’s?” Hermione asked, running her finger along the table as she walked around it, raising a brow at me over her shoulder.
I shrug, stepping in and pulling her chair for her. “I figured we could have a lazy night in.”
“As opposed to?” She sits and I tuck her in, walking around to sit across from her. She reaches for a chip and pops it in her mouth, smiling and bouncing slightly in her chair.
I smirk. “As opposed to a formal night in, I suppose,” I say nonchalantly.
She snorts, covering her mouth and her cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly.
“Don’t apologize, I find it adorable,” I say, a little too honestly. “I was hoping we could talk.”
Her hand freezes on its way to another chip, and she brings it back, her eyes hardening and her face going slightly blank as she occludes. “Of course,” she says. “What would you like to talk about Malfoy?”
Fuck, that was fast.
“Nothing serious,” I nearly whispered. “I thought maybe we could play that twenty questions game. I heard it’s a great way to get to know people.”
Her expression softens slightly, although her eyes still seem faraway.
Fuck, come back to me, sweet girl.
“Twenty questions?” she asks incredulously, an eyebrow raised.
I nod, shooting her a playful smile. “I think we need an ice breaker, because I have found I do not know my wife as well as I hoped I would before getting married. Takeout, some booze, and a game seem like a fun way to get to know each other without all the pressure.”
She watches me for a few seconds, biting her lip, eyes still faraway. I notice when her occlumency walls slowly drop, her eyes still sad but now with a hint of excitement. She nods, reaching for a paper plate from the stack I have sitting on the table before she scoops some takeout onto it along with some chips. I take note of everything she seems to favor, plating some food onto my own plate although I’m not as familiar with everything and will be trying a lot of it for the first time. I summon the bottles of wine I’d had chilled, and pour some into her glass for her.
Hermione gulps the entire glass down, sets it down, and reaches for the bottle to refill her glass.
I clear my throat, pulling a vial from my trouser pocket and setting it on the table between us. She looks at it, frowning.
“Veritaserum?”
I nod, leaning forward with my elbows on the table. “I know that in the past, I haven’t given you many reasons to think of me as someone trustworthy. I wanted to give you the opportunity tonight to ask any questions you want answered, and for you to not have to doubt if I was being honest or not. I will answer any questions you ask, nothing is off the table, darling.”
She eyes the vial on the table, chewing on her lip, then her golden brown eyes shift to mine and she studies me for a few seconds before her brows furrow in irritation and she crosses her arms over her chest. “So you want to play twenty questions while we're under veritaserum? What kind of questions are you planning on asking that would require this?”
I chuckle lightly, shaking my head. “No, my sweet girl. I will be taking the veritaserum, not you.”
“Because you'll lie to me without it?” She challenges me.
I quirk a brow, enjoying the back and forth. “No, darling. I just wanted to clear your mind of any doubt that I'm lying, regardless of what questions you ask.”
She chews her bottom lip for a full minute, holding my gaze as she contemplates. With a huff, she nods, leaning forward and snatching the vial. She studies the label, frowning and then opening it and sniffing it. She recaps it, places it on the table and twists her hands together on the table before finally looking at me and giving me a terse nod. “Fine,” she says. “Thank you,” she adds in a near whisper.
I nod, reaching for the vial and taking a dose of it, swallowing it without hesitation. Almost instantly I can feel the way it takes over my mind and my tongue, ready to spill answers to whatever is asked. My heart is beating in my chest from nerves, the uncertainty of not knowing what she wants to know and the fear that my answers will shock even me. I take a bite of my dinner, focusing on Hermione across from me and giving her a nod of encouragement.
She seems nervous too, glancing between the vial and me, her hands still fidgety on the table. She sighs and leans forward, biting her lip. “I can ask you anything?”
I nod, forking a bite of chicken into my mouth. “Nothing is off the table.”
She sighs, nodding and taking a bite of her food. She downs half of her glass of wine, meeting my eyes with fierce determination. “Why did you get your tongue pierced?”
I chuckle, surprised that she chose that as her first question. “I lost a bet to dear Theodore,” I say with a shrug. I take a sip of the wine, forcing myself to swallow even though it’s a bit too sweet for my taste. “I hated it for the first week, but it kind of grew on me and I decided to keep it.”
“What was the bet?” she asks, popping a chip into her mouth.
“Well, we were all very drunk at some club. The bet was that I could seduce a couple into a threesome,” I shrug, holding back a smirk against the view of her gaping at me with her mouth hanging open and a chip halfway to her mouth. “To be fair, it was Blaise and Astoria that I was trying to seduce because I was cocky and thought they'd definitely agree. I didn’t expect that Blaise would be opposed to sharing,” I chuckle at the memory of Blaise punching me in the face when I had brought it up. “
Hermione giggles, nodding in understanding. “He is very protective of her, it’s very sweet.”
I nod, and we continue eating in silence for a few minutes before I cut into the silence. “Alright, my turn for a question,” I clap my hands and push my plate away, propping my chin on my fist as I feign deep contemplation. “What was the craziest thing you did while we were in school?”
She blushes, biting her lip. “Uh, I think I’d have to say keeping Rita Skeeter in a jar,” she admits hesitantly. She immediately starts speaking again when I open my mouth to inquire further, speaking so fast I’m certain she’s not breathing. “She deserved it though, she was printing all these made up stories in fourth year and I was sick of it, we all had way bigger things to worry about without her making up rumors about who I was or wasn’t seeing. I mean seriously, since when is a girl not allowed to have a platonic relationship with someone of the opposite sex?! Anyways, I found out she was an unregistered animagus – that’s how she was getting so many stories – and one day I just waited until she transformed, accio ’d her into a mason jar and locked her in it until I thought she’d learned her lesson.” She’s panting by the time she finishes, her chest rising and falling fast, and it takes all my self control to not look down at the lovely cleavage her dress is putting on display.
A laugh bursts free from my lips, and I stare at her in amazement, hardly believing that someone who seems as kind as she does could do something like that. “You kept a woman in a jar because she made up stories about you? Damn, Granger, I think the Sorting Hat needs to reconsider its decision to place you in Gryffindor. You, my darling, are most definitely a Slytherin in hiding.”
She looks down coyly, her blush deepening and spreading to her chest. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “In second year,” she pauses and furrows her brows, and my heart rate picks up at the ideas of where this question could go as I wait for her to finish talking. “I thought about it a lot that year, and I always wondered, and I guess I just want to know…was it you who placed the page on basilisks in my hand when I was petrified?”
***
I watch Draco intently, slightly embarrassed at my question if it turns out after all these years, I was wrong, but silently hoping I’m right. Because if he helped us, then it means that maybe he didn’t actually wish me dead that year. I still remember crying myself to sleep after Harry and Ron had told me that he’d wished I was killed, and I vividly remember the resentment I felt then – and even now – at being attracted to someone who wished me dead and clearly didn’t care for me. And even if he is acting differently now and doesn’t seem to be stuck on that blood purist nonsense he grew up on, I’m certain that he is only doing this for the sake of not returning to Azkaban.
“It was,” he says on a deep exhale. “I had overheard my Father speaking about it at the Manor once, I’m not sure who to, he was on a floo call. That day my Father and I ran into all of you in Diagon, I had found the page in a book and kept it in case anything happened. I wanted to go to Dumbledore with it when the first person was petrified, but I couldn’t…I…I still thought my Father was a good man. I didn’t want him to go to Azkaban, but I knew what was happening wasn’t right. When I heard you’d been petrified, I went to see you in the infirmary. I waited hours, hidden with a disillusionment spell until everyone had left you for the night and Pomfrey had gone to her chambers.”
I suck in a sharp breath, a memory floating to me as if through fog. I don’t remember much of anything from my time petrified, but I remember hearing voices, usually Madam Pomfrey talking to the other healers, or Harry and Ron coming to talk about what they were doing, telling me they were going to find a way to get me back. I remember hearing choked sobs, a broken, raspy voice…
“I’m so sorry,” his words came out on shuddered breaths, sounding wet and snotty. “I didn’t mean it, I swear I didn’t mean it,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he cried over and over again for what felt like an eternity.
I wanted to reach out, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that I knew what did this. I just needed someone else to figure it out, anyone. Maybe he could figure it out, maybe Draco could be the one to save us all, he’s second in the class, he’s smart enough. He spends as much time as I do in the library, he just has to retrace my steps, find what books I checked out, what I’ve been researching…
“I know what did this,” his voice was so quiet and soft, I thought I’d hallucinated. “I can’t tell anyone, but you can.”
How? I wanted to ask him, my insides burning with the desire to yell at him to just tell Dumbledore so that he could fix everything, so he could protect us all.
“I’m just going to leave this here,” he’d said, sounding determined, stronger. “They’ll find it. They’ll see that the basilisk did this,” his voice sounds hopeful. “I wrote in how it’s moving through the castle for them, and they’ll get started on potions or spells or whatever they need to get you back.”
Thank you, thank you, thank you. I wanted to cry with relief.
“I have to go,” he’d said after such a long time that I had been convinced he’d already left. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he whispered.
“I figured that if Pomfrey didn’t see the parchment in your hand, then maybe Potter or Weasley would and they’d take it to Dumbledore. Nobody had to know it was me, and I technically wasn’t betraying my Father. I didn’t want you to die, Granger. It took me seeing you like that, knowing you had come so close to death, to make me accept that I didn’t hate you. I was jealous, yes, because how the fuck were you better than me at everything when you hadn’t grown up exposed to it, but I never hated you.”
I relax in my seat, blinking rapidly and lowering my eyes to my hands in my lap, fidgeting with the skirt of my dress as I take in his words. “I wondered for years,” I admit in a whisper, still keeping my eyes down. “I didn’t say anything, didn’t approach you, for fear that I was wrong and you’d just find a way to be cruel.” I look up at him, my eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you, for helping them.”
His storm colored eyes meet mine, his brows pinched together. “I didn’t do it for them. I did it for you. You didn’t deserve that,” he says simply, matter of factly.
I glance down at the veritaserum, knowing he might be sharing more than he probably wanted because of it. My heart flutters at his words, wanting desperately for him to mean it in a different way than he probably does. Because despite my past, I still want romance in my life. I want to feel loved and wanted, and appreciated and respected and protected. And Draco is an attractive man, someone I have fancied since we were children, but never got to know further and now he’s exposing every truth to whatever I want to ask. It’s empowering, but also terrifying. Not knowing what he’s going to say, if he’s going to say something vile or kind, if his answers are going to feed into my teenager dreams or just add to the nightmares I’ve got leftover from the war and my fucked up relationship with Ron.
“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”
I look up, frowning. “That’s a very vague question.” I tap my finger on the table, going deep into thought, but coming to the same, simple answer. “It’s probably stupid, but I have always wanted to own a bakery. I miss things being simple, and baking is something that reminds me of my childhood and brings me peace. It’s almost like making potions, except you get a sweet treat after you’re done.”
His whole expression softens at my answer and he nods at, a downturned smile on his lips. “You could do it, you know.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “It’s expensive to open a business, and I know nothing of running a business to begin with. Besides, I’ve been working at the Ministry since we graduated from Hogwarts.”
“I could help you,” he offers. “It’s not as expensive as you think it is, and I could show you how to run it or help you find someone who can deal with the background stuff while you do the baking side of it.”
I shake my head, even though I’m severely tempted to take him up on his offer. I’ve had a good bit of money saved up for years, and it’s not like my current job brings me a lot of joy. If anything it stresses me out, but it’s what everyone expected I’d do after graduating. It felt like an item on a checklist on my way to the perfect life, but now it was so derailed I wasn't sure if it even matters whether I followed some imaginary checklist or not. “Maybe in a few years,” I say hesitantly.
“Whenever you’re ready.” His smile is open, warm, and I find myself smiling back at him, although I’m still feeling a bit nervous.
Tonight has turned out better than I thought it would, and I’m a little relieved that he suggested this game of twenty questions, even if the veritaserum makes me a bit nervous as to what he might say. This is the perfect opportunity to get the answers to the questions that have been driving me insane all day, knowing that regardless of what he says it will be the truth since the potion won’t let him lie without great difficulty.
“Your vows,” I start slowly, my voice wavering. I can feel sweat starting to build at the nape of my neck and under my arms from nerves, and I force myself to continue my question instead of backing out and calling it a night. “The proposal, this whole situation we’ve got going on…what does…I mean, what do you…” I sigh, struggling to find a way to finish the question that won’t sound needy or desperate. “I don’t know what you want from this,” I admit finally with a huff. “Your vows, they were really, really something and I was sucked into the moment, but now we’re here and I don’t know what it is that you want or how much of what you said was true or how much I can trust you or what the hell I’m even supposed to be doing with you.”
When I look at Draco, his eyes are focused on me, the black in his eyes swallowing the molten silver and I watch as he stands and walks around the table. He leans against the table right beside me, my arm nearly brushing his thigh and I shift in my seat before looking up at him. His expression is open, vulnerable.
“I meant every word I said. When I asked you for a chance to build a relationship, I meant it. Maybe we should’ve spoken longer that night, and that’s my mistake for assuming that I was making my intentions clear. You said yes to the proposal and I thought you understood.”
“You asked me to marry you when I was in a position where I couldn’t say no,” I say defensively. “I honestly thought it was a rhetorical question, or something you had to do because of pureblood customs or some nonsense like that.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s fair, and for that I am sorry. I don’t approve of this law any more than you do, and I’m angry with Kingsley still. But I will be honest with you,” he takes a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling as if in silent prayer before looking down at me with complete seriousness. “I have wanted you for far longer than I care to admit. In school, I convinced myself it wasn’t going to happen, especially since my Father had already spoken to me of possible marriage contracts he had planned. My Mother knew I fancied a girl at school, but I hadn’t told her who until fourth year. By then there was nothing anyone could do, and I knew it was too late to try to earn your friendship, much less try to properly court you.”
Blood is rushing in my ears and I’m suddenly glad for his proximity if only to hear him better. I wonder if this is some sort of joke, wondering if the veritaserum is even actually veritaserum or if he’s playing me but he continues and I focus all my attention on his words again.
“When the marriage law was announced, and we were matched, I was furious with Kingsley for doing this to you. I couldn’t believe that he would take your choice away from you, I knew you never would’ve chosen me if it had been up to you. I fought with him for hours, he told me before the match was officially announced and you got your owl. I knew for a full day before you, but it was solidified when the owl came. I had hoped he would change his mind, leave it up to you or not match you at all after everything you had already done during the war. He didn’t, obviously,” he gestures between us with a wave of his hand.
“Hermione, I want to date you. I know that we’re married, and it feels backwards, and you deserve so much better than an ex Death Eater, but I want to be good for you. My proposal, my vows, everything has been honest. I want us to be friends, and I want to get to know you and become more if you think we’re a good fit. I just want a chance to prove to you how much I care about you, how much I have wanted you for years. I want to make you happy, to help you make your dreams a reality, to be there for you no matter what…” his voice trails off, and he looks down, twisting his wedding band on his finger. “Hermione,” my voice is a whisper on his lips, and I savor the way it sounds.
“I promise you that if you want out of this marriage, I will help you find a way out. But if there’s any part of you that thinks we could be something, anything, I am begging you to please give me a chance to prove how much I lo–” his voice cuts off on a choke and his expression is pained as he fights the veritaserum, but I already know where his sentence was going before he even finishes it. “Give me a chance to prove how much I love you, Hermione.”
My vision is blurry with unshed tears, my palms sweaty in my lap, and I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for the entirety of the time he was talking and am slightly dizzy with it. I force myself to take a few deep breaths, focusing on counting them in and out before I trust myself enough to speak. “Okay,” I say simply.
He looks at me, hopeful, eyes shining with tears and cheeks flushed. “Okay?”
“I’ll date you,” I elaborate in a whisper.
Notes:
Finally, we're going somewhere with these two! Let us all get ready for the rollercoaster of emotions and challenges to come!
Chapter 11: Game Night
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
To say that I was surprised by Draco's confession would be an understatement. We cleaned up dinner quietly, although my brain was running through a hundred different scenarios of how this whole thing could go now that he'd been so open.
Half of me was excited at the idea of dating someone I had been attracted to in my school years and had convinced myself was out of my reach. The other half was terrified of dating someone who was so powerful, so beautiful, so well-connected, and who had such a dark past.
“We have to take it slow though,” I say as I place some leftover Chinese food in the fridge. It’s been probably half an hour since I agreed to date him, genuinely giving him a chance.
Draco is wiping down the table and he gives a throaty chuckle from where he is. “Absolutely, gorgeous.”
“And I still have questions while that veritaserum is in your system, if you don't mind,” I say. The last few questions I have are more for my peace of mind, and while they're embarrassing to ask, I fear I won't be able to have a peaceful night's sleep without answers.
“As many as you want,” he drawls. “I am an open book, and I can take another dose if this one wears off too soon. It’s kind of liberating letting it all out.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” I blurt, squeezing the handle on the fridge so tightly my knuckles turn white. I watch as his eyes widen at my question, but while I expected him to look angry or maybe even embarrassed, he looks amused.
He raises a brow at me, a smirk on his lips. “I have, but only because of my job. I don't use the unforgivables unless it's a last resort, I always try to capture first and second. I've killed less than a dozen people since I started working, Tonks said my numbers were impressive.” His chest puffs out slightly, and he genuinely sounds proud. “They were all Death Eaters, but I still think Azkaban would have been a better punishment than death. I know my Father is miserable, and it serves him right.”
I frown, walking to the bar in the kitchen and leaning on it. “You're not close with your Father?”
“Not for a long time, no. He wasn’t the kindest person to my Mother, whom I adore dearly obviously. Neither of us were too disappointed when he was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life, although Mother still goes and sees him once a month.”
“Oh,” is all I can say, chewing the inside of my cheek as I watch him tuck the chairs back in their place. He moves with ease, grabbing the paper plate stack, napkins and walking them over to the counter I’m leaning against. I straighten and walk to the table, running my fingers on the backs of the chairs as I go to the other end of the room.
“I was wondering,” he pauses and bites his lip, and despite my best efforts, my gaze focuses on the move, remembering the feel of his lips on mine. Moving slowly, memorizing, worshipping, his tongue slipping into mine and surprising me with the feel of metal against my own tongue. “Are you a legilimens?”
I snap my eyes back to his, frowning. “No.”
He nods, smirking. “So, you just know how to occlude?”
I shrug. “Dumbledore thought Harry needed to know to keep Voldemort from finding things out,” I say, leaving out the Horcruxes in case he wasn’t made aware of them. “I thought it’d be good for me to learn, although I didn’t have Professor Snape helping me. I learned from a few books, but I’m not nearly skilled enough to truly keep out a legilimens. I did find out though that legilimency is a Black family trait…is that something you inherited from your Mother’s side?”
He gives a cocky grin, raising a brow. “Did your research on me, Granger?”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “Harry was convinced you were a Death Eater in sixth year, I was trying to prove him wrong.”
“And did you?”
“No, shit kind of hit the fan before I could prove or disprove his theory,” I mutter, still disappointed with myself for not having found an answer sooner.
“Shit hit the what?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Muggle phrase, sorry. Um, things just kind of blew up before I could find an answer.”
“Oh,” he says, nodding in understanding. “Well, I am a legilimens, not that I use the skills often. Usually only when the Auror Department orders it for questioning.”
“Wandless?”
He nods, giving me a small smile. “I had a few years to hone in on the skill. My dear Aunt Bella didn’t like mistakes or weaknesses, so she trained me herself when Voldemort came to live with us.”
Sympathy washes over me at his words, remembering the way he and Narcissa had described the immense amounts of torture and training he was forced to go through the summer before sixth year, and how much worse it got after Dumbledore died. Voldemort was angry that it had not been Draco to kill Dumbledore, and had seen it as a failure on the family. Draco, Narcissa and Lucius had been tortured for hours on end under the cruciatus. The memories Narcissa had provided had made my stomach turn, and I’d spent an hour after the trial sobbing and emptying my stomach.
“Anything else you’d like to know?” He sounds like he’s teasing slightly, probably remembering from our school years that I was always interested in knowing more than the information being presented by the teachers.
“It’s a strange question,” I say hesitantly, lowering my gaze to the plush carpet beneath my feet. It’s a colorful Victorian rug, and I try to focus on the swirls as I gather every ounce of courage in my body to speak. “Have you ever, or would you ever, hit someone you were with? It’s purely rhetorical of course, and if I’ve crossed a line, you don’t have to answer, it’s just that you mentioned your Father wasn’t the kindest to your Mother, and I’m not saying you’re like him, but I don’t really know you and I’d rather be prepared if we’re going to be living together for the foreseeable future.”
He’s quiet for so long, I wonder if he left the room, and I slowly lift my eyes from the rug only to find him standing at the other end of the table. His jaw is clenched, the muscles feathering and I can see every breath he takes with the way his chest rises and falls. His eyes are no longer molten silver, but completely overtaken by black. His fists are clenched at his sides, and anger radiates from him in waves.
I step back, stumbling into the small table holding a vase of flowers and grabbing it quickly to keep it from falling. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid question. I just…you mentioned your Father, I didn’t…”
“No,” he says finally. “I haven’t hurt a woman, nor will I hurt a woman in my lifetime.”
We stand in heavy silence for a minute or two, and I hate the tension that fills the room as I try to think of anything to make the room less icy.
“Have you ever been hit by a man?” he asks carefully, stepping into the kitchen, his back to me. He’s tense as he toys with the paper plates on the counter, the muscles of his back rippling beneath a shirt that’s perfectly fitted to him.
“No,” I say automatically, having practiced the answer so many times. I can still hear Ron’s voice, almost as if he’s taken over the devil on my shoulder, reminding me how easy it would be to take out my Muggle parents. They’re so fragile, his voice reminds me, and I shiver. “No, I haven’t been hit by a man,” I say, forcing my voice to sound stronger, unwavering. “I mean, aside from Greyback when we were captured and taken to the manor,” I add, trying to sound convincing. “It was just a question out of curiosity, really.”
He looks over his shoulder, studying me, and I remain still. Shoulders back, chin up, keeping my features blank as he looks me over. I don’t cower under his scrutinizing gaze like I want to, I face him head on and – when I feel like he might not believe me – I walk closer, forcing a smile onto my lips and giggling.
Distract him, you know he wouldn’t just sit by with this information. He hates Ron, he’ll go after him and then Ron will go after Mum and Dad, my subconscious practically screams at me. I can hear Ron’s dark chuckle in my mind.
“What do you like to do for fun?” I ask, keeping my tone light, stopping just before him and running my hand up his arm flirtatiously.
As intended, his gaze drops from my eyes down to my hand, his arm flexing slightly under my touch. “I like swimming,” he says, looking at me. His brows are still scrunched as if he’s trying to figure me out, and I try to find something else to distract him with.
“Hmm, swimming sounds fun,” I lie with a smirk. “I was thinking we could do something fun though,” I lower my voice, looking at his chest, at the tattoos peeking through his unbuttoned shirt.
“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, grabbing my wrist and lowering my hand slowly.
I look up, glaring. “Yes, I am, why?”
“You seem…off…I don’t want to assume, but you seem like you’re flirting and I have no idea how we got here,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.
I sigh, shrugging and stepping back. He seems distracted enough from our previous conversation, so I guess it worked. “I’m bored.”
“So you thought flirting was going to be entertaining?” He asks with a chuckle, smirking. “Dinner wasn’t all I had planned for the night, we could move on to the rest of the night.”
“Oh, sorry.” I blush, stepping back further until my hip hits the counter and I mentally curse myself for the bruise I know is going to pop up. “What’s next?”
“Well, I did get some boardgames, and this thing called a Wii that Pansy swears is magic. I was going to let you decide which would be more fun,” he finishes with a nervous smile.
I stare at him, not believing how casual he’s being about all the Muggle stuff he’s just brought into his home. It’s such a strange thing to wrap my mind around, having grown up thinking he would resent everything Muggle. Now he not only has me as a wife, living in his home, but he’s bringing in Muggle technology, games, books, and even food like it’s nothing.
“Um, okay, yes,” I say when I realize he’s waiting for a response. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, deciding I’ll think this whole afternoon over when I’m in my room and can categorize everything without distractions.
***
“Fuck, Malfoy, it’s really not that hard!” I huff in irritation when he bumps into me for the fifth time. “Two steps, keep your arms locked, and strut! It’s not a stomping dance! Seriously, Beyonce would be so disappointed.”
“I don’t understand what this song has to do with being single, and you said this would be easy!” He shouts over the music, a lock of silver hair plastered to his forehead.
Both of us are barefoot, dancing in the living room with the Wii controllers in our hands. The lights are dimmed, and we’re mostly illuminated by the light from the television hung up on the wall. I’ve thrown my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head, having shoved my wand in it so I could move my legs freely with it out of my thigh holster.
Because our group of friends like to have game nights once a month – as we’ve been doing for months now – and the next game night was a Just Dance competition, Draco insisted on learning since we would inevitably be paired together now that everyone was coupled up due to the marriage mandate. While I was used to dancing with Theo or Pansy on my team, I knew that Draco also had a competitive streak and figured he’d be a good teammate. Now, seeing his abominable dance moves, I was starting to reconsider whether I should just go solo to prevent our scores from lowering.
“It is easy, for people who don’t move like they’re jellyfish! Your body is too lax! If we’re going to be doing this with other people and we’re going to be teamed up, you’ve got to get it together! I have never lost at Just Dance, and I don’t intend to do it now.” I groan when his foot hits the back of my own, confused as to how that could be when the moves on the screen don’t even require him to lift a foot. “I thought you took dancing lessons as part of your posh upbringing!” I accuse him.
He stops, lowering the remote and frowning at me. “I am not posh, and I did take dancing lessons. This ,” he motions to the television where the game is still going, “is not dancing. The Waltz is dancing, this is just, just some, I don’t even know! But it is not dancing, Granger!”
I huff, pausing the game and going back to the song selection. “Maybe I can convince Theo to stay on my team, or bring Pansy to my side. I don’t think Percy dances, you two can sit and talk about how this is not dancing,” I mock him.
“No no no. I will not be bested by Theodore Nott or by technology. I will figure this out, let’s just try something else.”
“Fine, but if I get hit with the remote one more time, I will hex you.” I threaten, scrolling through the songs.
He scoffs, drinking from the water bottles we brought in earlier. He sets the bottle down with a thud before unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and stripping it off altogether, using it to wipe sweat from his forehead and then tossing it on the floor by the doorway. His trousers hang low on his hips, and I find it nearly impossible to focus with the way the light from the television highlights the planes of his chest and abdomen, making the muscles I already knew were there more prominent.
“You pick the next one,” I say just as he turns to look at me, having noticed I’d stopped scrolling through the song options. I offer him the controller and he takes it, pointing it dramatically at the television and scrolling through.
My dress is uncomfortably sticking to my chest and back uncomfortable due to how much I’ve managed to sweat. It’s a really nice dress, but not from my own wardrobe since I still haven’t been home to collect some of the things I had packed to move in. Instead, I had picked things out of the dresser and closet Draco – or maybe Narcissa – had filled for me. There were no casual clothes in my new wardrobe though, and I was really not wanting to dress in the night clothes that had been provided for me: short strappy nightgowns, lacy and see through negligees, a ridiculous amount of thongs, and even a drawer full of lingerie.
“Actually, do you mind if I go home and grab some of my things?” I ask, shuddering at the idea of putting any of the night clothes on.
He looks at me over his shoulder, smiling. “Scared I’ll find something I can dance to, Granger?”
I scoff. “Please, I’m starting to believe you are not as upscale as you let everyone believe.”
He brings his hand to his chest as if I’ve wounded him, doubling over slightly. “You’ve caught me, I’ve been pretending all along, I was raised poor! This has all been a scam to get beautiful women to fall for me,” he winks as he straightens, setting the controller next to the array of water bottles on the television stand. “Please, don’t tell the Prophet!”
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. “Nobody would believe you were ever poor.”
“Too good looking, huh?”
“Too arrogant,” I counter with a smile, a blush on my cheeks because yes, he is too good looking. Not even drenched in sweat and panting does he look bad, it’s really unfair.
“There’s classes to learn the trait,” he says with a shrug, walking towards the fireplace in the room.
I snort, shaking my head and following behind him. Both of us enter the fireplace barefoot, and he grabs some floo powder, tossing it and calling out “Granger Residence” just as his arm wraps around my waist. The flames swallow us and we materialize in the fireplace in my dark living room. He steps foot out of the fireplace first, extending a hand to help me through as if I haven’t done this a thousand times without help. I still take his hand and let him help me out, giving him a tentative smile as I stand directly in front of him, my chest nearly touching his bare one.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, my voice coming out breathy and needy. “We can just take the clothes tonight, it’s late. Tomorrow I’ll come back and grab the rest of my stuff,” I walk past him to the stairs, stopping just before them since I had brought down my clothes and important boxes already.
Pulling my wand from where I had it securing the messy bun I’d thrown my hair into, I cast a shrinking spell on my suitcases, a few boxes containing shoes, accessories, and some of my beauty and hair stuff, before doing the same to the garment bags holding my office clothes. Draco walks over and immediately starts grabbing stuff, nearly everything fitting in his hands since I shrunk them down to be the size of quarters for easy traveling.
“With the way you shrink things, we could probably move your entire house in one trip,” he says with a smirk.
I shrug, “When you’re on the run you learn how to maximize space.”
His face goes serious, and he nods, looking down and shuffling his bare feet. I instantly regret the words, feeling as if I’ve ruined the genuinely enjoyable night we’ve been having by bringing up the war.
“You ready to go? I could certainly go another round with you if you’re down for another dance attempt,” I say, trying to sound cheerful and teasing.
He looks up, expression hopeful and nods. “I’d love to, Granger.”
I grab the last few things in my hand, summoning the mail by the entrance before leading the way to the fireplace and stepping in after Draco. Just as before, he wraps his arm around me and we floo together.
Despite knowing it’s probably his upbringing and many, many years of etiquette classes, I’m still shocked at how smoothly he’s able to move, the confidence he exudes, and the gentle ways his hands hold me or steady me when we exit the floo. In my room, he helps me unshrink everything and sits on the bench by the window, the moonlight making his hair shine. I use magic to put everything away, sending my toiletries to the bathroom and making my makeup join the rest of the products on the vanity. He watches me with a starstruck expression on his face, and his words from earlier tonight hit me in full force.
Give me a chance to prove how much I love you, Hermione.
Could he have meant that? Could he have just convinced himself it was love, and tricked the veritaserum into thinking that’s the truth? I’ve had a crush on him for years, but I wouldn’t call it love. We didn’t know each other then, and we hardly know each other now. Everything is so backwards, going from nearly strangers to married and now he wants to get to know me.
What if he doesn’t like what I’m like once gets to know me? Or if I scare him off? What if he scares me off? I don’t have commitment issues by any standard, but after everything with Ron, being trapped in a marriage, depending on someone so wholly, being vulnerable and open…it’s terrifying. And that’s not to include the intimacy we’ll eventually be expected to partake in due to this mandate.
If things were different and this marriage mandate hadn’t been put in place, would he have ever approached me? Would I have approached him? I was wholly prepared to spend the rest of my life alone, enjoying the safety of my home with myself, knowing that no matter what happened outside, I would always be able to come home to a calm, safe environment where no one would make me feel like I was just some hole to fuck or a punching bag for hard days. And now, I am living with a man who looks like he could kill someone without breaking a sweat, who could spew hateful words with ease, whose face could switch from happy to hateful in seconds. Was this really someone I could trust with my life and my feelings? Fuck, am I crazy for being attracted to him? Have I just made a cataclysmic mistake in agreeing to date?
“You have a very expressive face when you think, Granger,” Draco says softly, quietly. “We don’t have to go back down, it’s past midnight, we could call it a night.”
I shake my head, biting my lip, determined to see the rest of the night through. I can stress about things another time, and I don’t have enough data yet to come to a conclusion as to how fucked I may or may not be in this situation. “I was thinking maybe we could watch a movie? I just need to change first, but I could meet you in our sitting room…I saw there’s a television and the couch looks relatively comfortable.”
He gives me a wistful smile, nodding. “I’d love that,” his voice is nearly a whisper and I shiver, feeling my ring warm and making me want to step towards him for a split second before I shake myself and step back towards the bathroom instead. “I’ll go get changed too and meet you out there.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around myself as he walks past to keep myself from reaching out and touching him. My fingers are itching for the warmth of his skin, craving the feeling of his lips on mine, wanting to feel the way he exhales into my mouth when we kiss, the way his muscles shift beneath my hands…
Another wave of warmth from the ring has me almost doubling over on myself, my hand clenching and unclenching multiple times. When I finally have my breathing under control and my legs aren’t shaking from the pure feeling of need that has overcome me, I go to the bathroom to freshen up and change.
Looking at my face in the mirror, I’m confused by the face looking back at me. My cheeks are red, my eyes are nearly black, my lips look fuller and there’s just the smallest glow to my skin. I look crazed, winded. I haven’t felt like this in years, and it’s overwhelming and overpowering all at once.
Lust.
Maybe not even Draco knows, but these rings definitely want us to do more than get to know each other. I pry the ring off, casting spell after spell to see what kind of magic is embedded, but there’s no magic pointing to anything that can alter feelings. There’s the tracking spell, which Draco had already told me about, and the portkey is the most obvious. There’s magic embedded in the rings for fertility, and there are even protection spells embedded into the ring to serve as a shield should I ever be caught off guard. Impressive, but there’s nothing amiss or anything I would complain about and want removed. Even if I’m not planning to have kids with Draco anytime soon – or at all if this dating thing doesn’t work out – I am not opposed to fertility magic. There are other methods that the Ministry wouldn’t know about if I wanted to prevent pregnancy for the time being, and even a Healer wouldn’t know about it unless Draco or I told them – thank you to Muggle alternatives.
After splashing cold water on my face and reminding myself that we’re doing baby steps, I join Draco in the sitting room in some comfortable pajamas. We end up settling on a romcom – The Proposal – since it’ll be lighthearted and easy to follow the plot of, sitting on opposite ends of the couch with a bowl of caramel popcorn between us. Draco still has dozens of questions throughout the movie, and I laugh and giggle at the comments he makes throughout.
“That can't possibly be dancing, Granger,” he mutters as he stares incredulously at Sandra Bullock dances and chants Get Low. “And what kind of song is that?!”
I laugh, my knees curled up to my chest and my head thrown back. “It's one of the best scenes of the movie!”
“This?!” He points to the television, his smile so big that the dimples on his cheeks are on full display, his eyes twinkling with delight. “And you judged my moves,” he tsks , shaking his head and burrowing deeper into the couch with his legs stretched out on the ottoman in front of him.
I roll my eyes, standing and setting my blanket down on the couch. “I'm going to grab a drink, do you want anything?”
“Whatever you're having will be fine,” he says with a smile. “Do you want me to freeze the screen?”
“No, I do not want you to pause the movie, Malfoy,” I correct as I walk out the door and into the hall, a smile dancing on my lips as I make my way to the kitchen on our floor.
Deciding on some chamomile tea to help me sleep tonight, I start warming the water in the kettle and busy myself browsing the titles on the small bookshelf by the table. Draco has interesting books throughout the house, and a good bit of them have some wear and tear, hinting at which ones he tends to visit more than once. Pulling one that has no title on the spine out, I flip it open and find that it's a photo album with pictures of his early childhood.
A picture of the day he was born, Narcissa holding him in a large canopy bed, her young face glowing with joy as she holds Draco bundled in a velvety green swaddle, and Lucius sitting beside his wife, his arms wrapped around her and his son protectively. He is kissing his wife's cheek, looking in love and overjoyed. He leans away from her and does the same to his son, who pokes a small hand out of the swaddle and reaches for his mother's face.
I flip through the album with careful fingers, smiling at the photos inside. Draco playing with magical toys, a picture of him wearing a suit when he looked to be about six months old, another photo showing him sticking out his tongue at whoever is taking the photo and giggling. Draco learning to ride a broom when he was a toddler, then the moment he took his first steps, pictures of him and Narcissa gardening, or pictures of him watching his Father with curious eyes as he worked. Pictures of his childhood that, aside from the magic and the fact that the photos all move, seem almost completely normal.
I could easily compare them to photos of me learning to ride a bike, the hundreds of photos my parents took of my facial expressions as an infant or toddler, and all the activities I did with my parents where I watched them like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky.
It's all so normal, and yet I can't wrap my mind around us being similar at all.
“Everything okay?” a soft voice whispers too close to me.
I jump, immediately pulling my wand from where it's strapped to my wrist and pointing it at the intruder. My gaze is zeroed in on my target, everything else blurring as I focus on the shape before me. The book clatters to the floor, hitting my foot and I step back, stumbling into the shelf.
Hands grasp my elbows, and I flinch, my wand pointed just under the intruder's chin, my vision blurring and my ears ringing from the rush of adrenaline. The hands release me and I notice the pale blond hair, the quicksilver eyes watching me and his lips pressed into a thin line, brows creased with concern. He holds his hands up before him in surrender, and I drop my wand, letting it clatter to the ground as I realize I just almost attacked him. I don't even remember thinking of a spell, but the tip was shining red in preparation to release a spell.
“I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry,” I whisper quickly, wrapping my arms around myself as embarrassment floods my body. “I-I-I’m not used to having someone else around, and I panicked, I forgot for a minute, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to,” I rush to explain.
He nods, some of the concern leaving his features as he steps back and kneels slowly to grab the book and my wand, setting both on the table. “I knocked, but you didn't hear me. I was worried you'd fallen asleep,” he says in a tone that indicates he's obviously trying to joke and lighten the mood, but his eyes and the set of his jaw betray him.
I step away and off to the side, walking past him to the kitchen and pulling the kettle to pour into teacups. “I'm sorry,” I say again. “I got caught up looking at your photos, I didn't mean to.”
“Hey, it's okay, don't worry about it. I'm sorry I frightened you.” Draco's voice sounds closer now, probably from behind the kitchen counter and I hear the chair creak as he settles his weight on it. “You don't have to apologize, darling.”
I focus on making the tea, still trying to get my pounding heart to stop trying to climb up my throat. My hands shake as I grab the teacup for Draco and slide it to him, keeping my eyes focused on my hands and not letting our hands touch as I hand it to him. I can feel his gaze burning into me, willing me to look at him.
I turn to my teacup and take a large sip, letting the burning on my tongue ground me. Focusing on the sensation of my tongue burning because I drank too soon and too fast, feeling it in my throat and esophagus while it makes its way to my stomach. Distracting myself from the fear of being snuck up on, the feeling of strong and large hands grabbing me, pulling me, yanking me towards the bedroom and shoving me against the wall or onto a bed. The angry voice talking, reminding me of my failures and mistakes.
“Want to go finish the movie?” Draco's voice is tentative, too soft, too understanding.
I look at him then, shocked to see no anger or building resentment in him. He doesn't look irritated or annoyed, or impatient. It's so strange to see him like this.
I find myself nodding before I realize I've done it, and we eventually make our way back to the sitting room between our bedrooms. He hands my wand as we're walking down the hallway and I want to hex myself for forgetting it in the first place. Instead, I thank him and we sit in silence for the remainder of the movie. At the end, he walks me to my bedroom door, and we stand like idiots in the doorway just watching each other, neither of us sure of what to say or do.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Draco says, his cheeks flushed pink. He runs his hands through his hair, looking down.
“I really enjoyed tonight too,” I murmur, and I don’t even have to lie. “It'll be a while before you're a good enough dancer for game nights, but I think we can work with what you've got now.” I try to joke, although I can hear my voice still sounds too flat.
He gives me a tentative smile, nodding. “That's good, great.” He bites his lip, watching me for a second before he blurts, “May I kiss you?”
I frown, mouth opening and closing a few times. Do I want him to kiss me? Yes. Do I want it to be tonight? No. I'm still anxious, feeling a bit trapped in my head after everything tonight and kissing was the last thing on my mind until he brought it up.
“On the cheek,” he clarifies, clearly sensing my hesitation.
I nod, figuring I can at least give him that tonight. We are supposed to be dating, and I need to make an effort too. He's been nothing but open minded and fun and understanding and just overall sweet tonight. I owe it to him to do this, don't I?
He steps forward slowly, and I brace myself against the part of me that wants to step back, biting my tongue hard against the impulse to tell him to stop. He reaches a hand up towards my face, and then freezes, looking at the gold band shining on his ring finger with a frown before looking at me. His eyes look hurt, and…betrayed?
Shit.
He sighs, stepping back and looking away. “Hermione,” he says my name like he's begging. He looks back at me, and his expression looks exhausted. “You're allowed to say no to me. This is all still new, I can understand that you need some time. I'm not going to rush you, Hermione.”
“We have a deadline,” I snap half-heartedly. “I doubt Kingsley is going to let us forget it.”
“Fuck the deadline,” he says. “I don't give a fuck about a deadline. Everyone can be paid off, even a Minister. If you need more time, I will get you more time. But you can't keep me in the dark, you can't say something is okay when it so clearly makes you so nervous or scared. I would never harm you, or take advantage of you. But darling, I need you to talk to me. I need you to trust me enough to tell me no, to tell me to stop, because I promise you I will not do anything you don't want me to.”
I hold my breath as he talks, not wanting to miss a single word lest I misunderstand. But even having heard everything, he seems honest and there's no hint of a trap. No threat to what would happen if I said no, nothing leading me to think there’s an underlying message. He seems genuine, and his face is still scrunched with concern. He seems kind, not at all like who I thought he was in school, not at all like the Death Eater people continue to paint him as.
And feeling suddenly brave, I take the two steps until I'm right up against him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his chest as I hug him. It takes him a few seconds, but eventually his arms come around me in a light embrace, his chin resting on the top of my head, his breath tickling the top of my head. He's warm and tonight he smells like cinnamon and apples, reminding me of fall and feeling so welcoming. He's warm and even though he's large and muscular, I don't feel trapped in his arms, instead I almost feel like I'm cocooned in a warm and fuzzy blanket.
“You are an enigma,” I whisper against his chest after what feels like minutes of us just standing there hugging.
“I could say the same about you, Granger,” he says with a chuckle.
I look up at him, and - feeling brave - lean up on my toes and press a kiss to his stubbled cheek, my nose brushing his cheekbone. “Goodnight, Malfoy,” I whisper against his jaw, my ankles complaining from the uncomfortable position. I feel his exhale on my cheek as I lower myself to my feet, removing myself from his embrace and stepping back towards my room.
“Goodnight, Granger,” he murmurs.
Notes:
I really enjoyed these two love fools in this chapter, and I hope you do too! Steps are being taken! I do know that some of the technology might not be accurate for early 2000's, but I wanted to let give them some fun experiences and adding technology to Draco's life was just something I couldn't pass up.
Have a great week everyone! -Gen
Chapter 12: Dinner Swap
Chapter Text
Theo, Blaise, and myself are sitting in the parlor, enjoying a glass of firewhiskey while the ladies get ready upstairs for their weekly outings. Since everyone in the group is married or engaged, the girls decided a fancy dinner would be better than going to a club tonight – something I wasn’t complaining about remembering the headache I’d gotten home with after spending the night out in such an overwhelming place. Blaise had cleared one of his restaurants for the night, giving us a quiet and private place for the night.
“So, how's married life?” Theo asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me and giving me a Cheshire grin. “Have you guys consummated yet? Are we going to have mini-Granger or mini-Malfoy joining us for our weekly get-togethers in nine months?”
I roll my eyes, shake my head and down the rest of my drink. “No, that would require her letting me touch her without going into a panic,” I say casually.
Blaise is quiet while he sits on the chaise, nodding in understanding. Theo sighs loudly, sitting next to me with his thigh practically on me and bringing his arm around my shoulders. I shift my leg, pulling it out from under him and raising a brow at him.
He ignores my look, finishing off his drink and setting the glass on the coffee table. “It’ll wear off, she’s always been like that. Well, not always, but since we reconnected. The war really fucked her up, mate,” Theo says with a grimace.
“That’s the thing, I don’t think it has anything to do with the war. I mean, maybe a bit, but I feel like there’s something she’s not telling me.”I sigh, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, my head once again threatening to run off with a thousand questions just like it had last night.
After leaving her in her room, I’d gone to mine and spent hours contemplating the whole evening. She was terrified , not just scared or jumpy. And even if it was because of Greyback and Dolohov still being unaccounted for, some of her reactions seemed more…personal than that. The fear that her ring had sent to mine was so overwhelming, I almost pulled a protective shield around us expecting a threat behind us that I wasn’t aware of. It wasn’t until I took in her expression, the raw fear in her eyes as I leaned forward, and the sweat beginning to break at her forehead, that I realized what had set her off: me.
I didn’t think she was a prude – I had seen her multiple times snogging with Viktor Krum in the library, by the lake, in the corridors, and of course at the Yule Ball and she always seemed like a happy and willing participant. I also knew she’d gone on dates with other wizards while at school (Adrian Pucey was the most shocking to me), but nothing had seemed to come out of it other than a few snogging sessions. Of course, there was Ron Weasley, who of all people had somehow managed to keep her around for years even though he definitely couldn’t have been mentally stimulating enough for her, and I refused to think too hard on what could’ve made her stay. But everyone knew Ron Weasley was a dimwitted coward.
“Like what?” Blaise asks, leaning forward. His eyes are calculating, reminding me that of the three of us, he’s the most dangerous of us.
Aside from owning multiple restaurants, Blaise also works part time with the French wizarding government to help find missing dark artefacts. Before being hired by the French Ministry though, he’d taken care of a few personal issues , using Muggle gangs to help rid himself of said problems without facing consequences. He was very good at casting spells to take magic away from his victims for a set time, and then he’d call his Muggle contacts and make arrangements to eliminate threats to his family, friends, and Astoria. Theo’s father had been imprisoned in a Muggle prison for just eight hours before he was brutally murdered. The English and French Ministry were of course completely unaware of his connections in the Muggle world. He also owned a few restaurants throughout the world.
“I don’t know,” I say on a sigh. My shoulders feel heavy with the weight of all my thoughts and concerns.
“Do you think Weasley…?” Theo asks, suddenly turning serious. “Or Krum?”
“No, I don’t know that that’s it. I asked her, and she said she’s never been hurt like that.” I fumble my tongue piercing, nervously tapping my finger on my glass and looking at the empty glass. “I just…how terrible was I to her at school?”
“Honestly, you were a total ass first and second year, and most of third year. I think her punching your reset your brain or something because I swear to Salazar, you seemed absolutely besotted with her after that. You went from glaring at her, to openly gazing at the witch.” Theo pats my back, standing and pouring himself another drink before waving the bottle in our direction in silent question.
Blaise and I both shake our heads.
“Yeah, I was shocked you didn’t hex Krum at the Yule Ball. You looked absolutely miserable and murderous at the same time watching them together, that’s when I figured out that you actually liked her,” Blaise says with a chuckle.
“Mmm, yeah, that’s when we decided to befriend her and start bringing her around. You lost me a lot of galleons, my friend. We really thought you’d make a move if she was in the Slytherin common room more often, but you just wouldn’t go for it no matter how drunk we got the two of you.” Theo tuts, downing his glass in one gulp and roughly setting the glass down on the bar cart, shaking his head a few times before grinning at me.
“She made a move on him after the Yule Ball though, and he turned her down rather rudely,” Blaise adds, giving me a pointed look and I gape.
“How do you know that? Nobody was around, I made sure of it,” I point an accusatory finger at him and Theo runs over, sitting next to Blaise and pulling him into an embrace that Blaise immediately extracts himself from.
“Blaise baby, you’ve been holding out on me?” Theo asks dramatically, hand over his heart.
Blaise shrugs, smirking as he jumps into the story.
December 1994
I frown as I watch Granger leaving, screaming at the Weasel as they make their way out the doors. Her face is red, tears streaming down her cheeks and her lip trembling even as she radiates anger at the redheaded idiot.
Excusing myself from the table – Pansy waving me away while she flirts with Theo, whose date he ditched hours ago in favor of mine. Not that I really cared, I had only asked Pansy out of obligation, and she had said yes for the same reason. I had stared at Granger more than I wanted to, my eyes following her even when I was trying to focus on conversations with my friends and even with a few of the Beauxbatons girls who’d come solo or ditched their dates in an effort to get to know more wizards.
I loosen my tie as I follow the path that Granger took, catching just the end of whatever fight they’d been having. He was obviously jealous, everyone had seen him glaring and pouting at Granger and her date. Why he thinks he’s owed her affections – or whatever it is he wants – I will never understand. He’s clueless, barely making it through school with his marks, and he’s a terrible friend to her. Why she settles for friends like Potter and Weasley, I also do not understand. She could do so much better (like me in another life where my Father wasn’t my Father).
“You ruin everything!” She cries after Potter and Weasley as they cowardly run away from her. She collapses on the stairs, tears freely running down her cheeks as she kicks off her heels and starts rubbing her feet.
I watch her for a few minutes, half hidden behind a pillar. A third of me wants to follow Weasley and Potter and hex them into the next school year for ruining her night for her.
The second third of me wants to go back to the Dungeons where the after party is going to start soon; students had been trickling in that direction slowly throughout the night, and some of the older Slytherins were setting up before we'd even left for the ball.
The last third, the one that was growing and taking from the other two, desperately wanted to try and salvage the night for her. Because she looked absolutely radiant in her dress, and she deserved a truly magical night. She deserved to be happy dancing and talking with her friends like she had been earlier in the night before Dumb and Dumber ruined it, admirers watching her with dreamy gazes and more than a few jealous glances from other witches. She was glowing for the first time in months.
I step out from behind the pillar when she's the only one in the vicinity, and stride to her even as my hands begin to sweat.
What if she hexes me? Fuck, what if she declines my invitation? What if someone sees me near her and assumes I'm going to harm her and I end up expelled? Father would beat me, lock me up in the dungeons like he used to when I let him down, although this time he wouldn't let me out even if Mother begged; he'd never forgive the embarrassment of me getting kicked out because I was caught alone with a Muggle born. More than that, he probably would find her and “dispose” of her as he does to everything he sees as a problem.
Just as I'm considering turning around and leaving her alone, she looks up and her sobs just come to a full stop. She wipes her face furiously, shaking her head. “If you're here to say something cruel, just get on with it. I haven't got all night,” her voice cracks, but she holds her chin up and her shoulders back, holding my gaze bravely.
I stop before her, shoving my hands in my pockets and sighing. “You shouldn't be crying over your two idiot friends,” I snap, feeling a bit guilty when she flinches and lowers her eyes. I soften my tone, lowering my voice. “You clean up nicely, Granger.”
She looks up at me, frowning deeply with her mouth hanging open. “Have you been cursed or something?” she asks, her voice incredulous.
I snicker, shaking my head. “Take the compliment, Granger. You know you looked amazing tonight.”
She watches me for a solid minute, probably waiting for an insult that won't come. At last, she nods, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“Anyways, I’m here to invite you to the after party.” I say, then after thinking over my words, I add, “On Theo’s behalf. Since Krum will be there, along with most of Durmstrang.”
She’s looking at me again, gaping as if I’ve just grown a second head. “You’re inviting me to the after party?”
I shrug, trying for nonchalance even as my palms sweat. “Come, don’t come, I don’t personally care. I just thought you’d like to stick it to Wonder Boy and the Weasel that despite their attempts to ruin your night, you enjoyed yourself without them.”
She chews on her lip, thinking my offer over. I can see the wheels turning in her head, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. After what feels like an eternity, she reaches for her heels and begins to put them back on, nodding quickly. “I’ll come, thank you.”
“For Theo,” I say slowly. “I mean, you’re thanking Theodore, he’s the one who asked me to invite you,” I lie quickly.
She looks at me with a knowing glint, but thankfully nods. “I will thank Theo when I see him.”
I nod, watching as she stands and forcing my fists to remain in my pockets to keep from helping her or offering my elbow as we walk quietly to the dungeons. She walks a few paces behind me, and I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure she hasn’t bolted for her common room instead. She’s mumbling quietly to herself, too quiet for me to hear her but at one point I hear what sounds like ‘get it together, you don’t need them’ and I smirk.
Damn right, you don’t need them, little cub. Show them you can have fun.
And have fun she did. Pansy helped her transfigure her periwinkle dress into something shorter, revealing her toned and surprisingly long legs for her stature, and then the two witches had taken to dancing and drinking around the room. Theo and I followed the witches, keeping a watchful gaze – read glare – on any wizard who let their hands or eyes travel too much over their bodies. Currently, Pansy and Hermione were dancing barefoot on the coffee table, singing and passing a bottle between the two. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them get along so well, and I’m shocked at the sight of them giggling and holding hands as they take turns twirling each other.
Theodore is standing close to Pansy and I am standing near Hermione, my hands occasionally coming to hold her thigh, waist, or calf to steady her or remind her of the edge of the table. It’s nearly four in the morning, and their steps are getting clumsier. I nod to Theo and he swoops Pansy off the table, causing her to shriek as she’s pulled into his arms. She wraps herself around him like a koala and immediately begins to kiss his neck, giggling flirtatiously.
“Hey! She’s my dancing–” Hermione’s complaint is cut off when she turns too fast and falls off the table and into my already waiting arms. With one hand behind her back, and the other behind her knees, her face is right beside mine and I fight to keep my face from turning to hers.
I can feel her gasping breaths against my jaw, and her arms wrap tightly around my neck as she holds herself closer to me. “Oh, you’re so warm,” she moans and makes herself more comfortable in my arms. “You’re strong too, I never knew you were muscular,” she muses dreamily.
I watch as Theo disappears with Pansy, probably to his bed based on the path he took. I’ll have to collect my galleons from Blaise tomorrow, whom I bet that even though Pansy was my date, she would end up in Theodore’s bed. He said Theo would never do that, completely forgetting Theo’s sluttier habits.
Hermione’s fingers slip into my hair, and she pulls lightly at the ends near my neck, and I look down at her slowly, wondering what I’m supposed to do with the drunk lion cub of Gryffindor. Krum snuck off a few hours ago, and the Slytherin common room is empty save for a few drunk students passed out throughout the room.
Her skin is flushed pink, her eyes beautifully glazed over and shining with what looks like joy. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, her eyes focused on my face.
My face burns, and I set her down on the loveseat roughly, rubbing the back of my neck. Fuck, I wasn’t supposed to be with her the entire night. I was just supposed to get her here, then pass her off to her date or something. I was certainly not supposed to be in a position where kissing her seemed like a great idea.
“Will you sit with me?” she asks quietly, her honey brown eyes melting any fight I had prepared – which wasn’t much.
Sighing, I settled beside her, looking around the room and finding nobody conscious who could intervene and get her to her rooms safely. I kept a few inches of space between us, but as soon as I sat, she scrambled closer and threw her legs over my lap, her knees drawn up and the back of her feet resting right against my thigh. “Thank you for inviting me,” she says with a hiccup.
I nod, keeping my eyes on her face and avoiding looking at her bare legs or the exposed part of her thighs now that her dress has ridden up. From this angle, if someone walked by they’d be able to see her knickers. With that thought, I awkwardly shrug off my jacket and drape it over her legs. She’s too drunk to preserve her modesty, but Mother raised me better than that, so I’ll do it for her. It has nothing to do with not wanting anyone else to see her knickers – pale pink, I’d gotten an accidental glance at them when I had looked up while she was twirling with Pansy. After that, I’d placed a light sticking charm on the skirts of her dress so she wouldn’t be flashing them to everyone every time she twirled.
Her hand comes up to my cheek, her fingers trailing my jaw before she flattens her palm flat on my cheek. Her lips are parted, her eyes half-lidded, and I can feel every quick unsteady exhale against my jaw as she leans closer. She shifts until she’s cradling my thighs, and her chest is pressed flush against mine. One of her hands is on my shoulder, and the other has moved to the back of my neck, pulling me in slowly even as she leans forward.
Just as her lips are about to touch mine, I push her onto the loveseat, climbing over her and holding her wrists to the loveseat. She looks up at me, breathless, confusion crinkling her features.
“What was that?” I snarl, furious with her for taking this risk. Does she seriously have no idea what could happen to her? “If my Father hears about this, do you have any idea what would happen? He'd kill you, and he wouldn't make it quick, Granger.”
“I-I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking,” she stammers. A single tear runs down her face, and I release her wrists, standing and turning my back to her. I cast a quick – and silent – disillusionment charm focused on my ground, and I turn back to her. She's sitting up, wiping her face and fixing her hair.
“Accio, shoes,” she says softly and her heels fly to her from different directions of the room. She puts them on quickly, getting to her feet and looking just past my head. “Tell Theo I had a lovely time,” she says quietly.
“I'll walk you back to your common room,” I offer gruffly.
“Not necessary, I know the way.” With that, she leaves the Dungeons. I pace the common room for five minutes before I groan and follow after her.
I was harsh, I need to apologize. She would've regretted kissing me, she was just drunk. I made the right call, she'll see reason once I explain it to her. I shouldn't have told her about my Father, it's not really her business, nor the primary reason I turned her down.
I want to kiss her, but that's a slippery slope. At this time, caring for her is the worst thing I could do. Father beat me and left me in the dungeons for three days all because I'd mentioned that I thought she was pretty when we ran into her and her family the summer before second year. I was so angry when we returned to school, I spent the whole year glaring at her and making fun of her and her friends. I'd even called her a Mudblood, and still to this day I haven't apologized. We're not friends, we could never be friends, so why bother.
I round the corner and stop in my tracks when I see a familiar head of curly hair leaning against the corridor with a red robed wizard kissing her. His hands are on her waist and she's on her toes, her hands wrapped around his shoulders, leaning against the wall in a way that pushes her hips into his.
Hermione Granger is making out with Viktor Krum. I can taste bile in my mouth, and I back out of the corridor before either of them can see me, returning to the common room in search of Pansy.
I find her in her chambers, Theo and her making out, both nearly naked. I sigh, unbuttoning my shirt. “Got room for one more?”
Theo grins, kneeling on the bed and reaching for me. “We always have room for you, Dray.”
***
“I was headed back to my bed after spending time with Astoria, when I saw Granger on your lap. I cast a quick disillusionment charm on myself so you wouldn't see me trying to make my way past you.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I didn't want to ruin the moment,” he says sarcastically.
“Wait, wait. You were with Pansy and I that night!” Theo says, holding a hand to his chest. “Draco, were we your second stop of the night?”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “Nothing happened with Granger.”
“Yeah, and you're to blame,” Blaise says, crossing a leg over his knee.
“I made the right choice,” I say, speaking honestly. Because while I may have regrets about how I did it, I know I ultimately made the right call. She would've resented me, we never would've had that awkward, hopeful small thread of friendship if we'd kissed that night. She would've thought I'd taken advantage of her or ignored me to prove she wasn't attracted to me, that it was just the liquor.
Blaise shrugs, hand on his chin as he watches me. “Guess you’ll never know, will you.”
Theo whistles, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you held out on me, I would’ve told you if I’d seen that.”
“Theodore, you would’ve told everyone, if you’d seen that. In fact, you would’ve added your own personal touch to the story until it was nothing but fantasy,” Blaise says pointedly.
Theo shrugs again, dusting invisible lint off his shoulder. “I would’ve made it interesting.”
“Point made,” I mutter. I glance at the watch I’m wearing tonight, noticing we’ve only got about ten minutes before we have to head out and the girls haven’t come down yet. “Think we should go get them?”
Blaise scoffs. “No way, Astoria would have my head if I rushed her process.”
I roll my eyes, knowing he’s right about Astoria and Pansy in that regard. Hermione doesn’t give the impression that she’d be aggressive if she was rushed while getting ready, but I wasn’t going to find out. Luna, on the other hand, would probably just lecture us about one creature or another in that strangely sweet and magical voice of hers.
“I’m surprised Pansy’s fiancé isn’t here,” I say to make conversation.
At this, Theo jumps over excitedly. “Actually, he and his brother are meeting us at the restaurant. Can you believe that Percy thinks we’re intimidating?” Theo scoffs, shaking his head, grinning. “Pansy also has him scared shitless after she went all Death Eater on him for helping the Minister put special clauses and spells on your contract to ensure you and Granger complied.”
“Wait, what?” I whirl on him, glaring. “What special clauses and spells?”
Theo bites the inside of his cheek, frowning. “Uh, I actually know nothing,” he backpedals. “I’m going to go check on our lovely ladies of the night.” He quickly walks out of the room, leaving Blaise and I staring after him.
“Well, dinner will be very interesting,” Blaise says after a minute of tense silence, walking to the bar cart and pouring himself another glass of firewhiskey.
Two minutes later, Theo is entering the room with Lovegood on his arm, leaning down as she talks quietly to him. She’s wearing a pale violet dress, with florals throughout. Her hair is braided down her back, and she’s got flowers spread throughout her head. While on most people it would look childish, on her it just makes her look ethereal.
Astoria walks in next, beelining for Blaise and immediately pulling him down to whisper something in his ear. Blaise chuckles and rolls his eyes, murmuring something back to her before pulling her into a kiss. When they break apart, they both look at me, and Astoria throws a wink my way before her and Blaise make their way to the floo.
Pansy and Hermione walk in together, their arms linked. Hermione looks nervously around the room until her eyes settle on me, and her cheeks turn crimson. Pansy says something to her and she nods, releasing Pansy’s arm and walking to me with slow, nervous steps. I meet her halfway, giving a bow of my head and reaching for her hand. She places her delicate hand in my own, and I bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckles while maintaining eye contact.
“You look exquisite,” I murmur against her knuckles.
She’s wearing a silk gown with a slit that goes up to her upper thigh. The midnight blue fabric clings to her body beautifully, accentuating her curves. The neckline plunges into a deep V, and the straps are so thin they’d probably snap with the slightest tug. Her hair is neatly cascading down her back, her curls tamed into beautiful ringlets. She’s wearing gold stud earrings, and a necklace with a gold heart. Her wedding ring set sparkles beautifully on her left hand, and I beam at the sight.
Mine.
She bites her lip against a beaming smile before giving a slight curtsy and looping her arm through my offered one. “Thank you,” she whispers as we walk to join the others at the floo. Blaise and Astoria have already gone through, and Pansy is strapping a knife to her thigh holster, Luna holding the burgundy skirts of her silk dress for her.
Theo turns to Hermione and beams, leaning forward and kissing both her cheeks. “Darling, you look amazing,” Theo says loudly, sounding proud.
I glare at Pansy, masking a note to pull her to the side at some point to find out more about whatever Theo was talking about earlier so I can handle it. She’s oblivious as she steps into the floo, not even having to duck her head since the fireplace is tall enough for even me to stand in without hitting my head on anything. A necessary adjustment, really, since ducking or crouching anytime you have to travel via floo is rather uncomfortable and taxing.
“Are we all ready?” Pansy asks, ignoring my glare and looking at Hermione instead. “Blaise and Astoria have gone ahead just in case Weasley and his brother get there before us.”
I feel the jump of fear course through my hand and up to my chest, and I look quickly at Hermione, finding her brows scrunched in confusion. “Percy is bringing his brother?” she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself.
Pansy frowns, but nods. “Yes, apparently he’s visiting from Romania. Charlie, I believe is his name?”
“Oh,” Hermione says, sounding relieved. “Yeah, Charlie. Charlie’s good.” She nods to herself, and Theo gives her a reassuring squeeze before taking Luna’s hand and stepping with her into the fireplace.
“We’ll see you there,” he says, avoiding looking at me as the flames swallow the couple up and make them disappear.
***
Dinner, thankfully, seems to go without a hitch. Hermione and I are seated together, her knee occasionally leaning against mine as she talks animatedly with the others. Pansy is seated between Percy and Charlie, and while Percy is content sipping his wine and talking with Hermione and Theodore, Pansy has been focused on Charlie pretty much since she laid eyes on him. Percy looks satisfied every time he looks in their direction, as if this was his plan all along.
Blaise and Astoria disappeared an hour ago; Astoria was feeling tired and after two hours of talking with everyone, she was practically asleep in her seat. Blaise had bid everyone goodbye, told Theo to lock up after everyone left, and apparated with his witch cradled in his arms.
“I thought Pansy and Percy were matched,” Hermione whispers, leaning closer to me so only I can hear her.
“They are,” I whisper back, draping my arm over the back of her chair slowly. She follows the move with her eyes, but doesn’t flinch or tense like she had at the club. “Percy looks happy about the attention his brother and Pansy give each other, don’t you think?”
She looks between the trio across from us, her brows furrowed in concentration. Pansy throws her head back laughing, her hand on Charlie’s forearm on the table, and Percy grins widely. Hermione huffs, nodding as she leans back. My fingers rest lightly on her shoulder, and I’m relieved that she doesn’t seem to mind. “So what, do you think they’re some sort of swap then?” she whispers, turning her face towards mine.
“It’s possible,” I whisper back. “I haven’t heard of anyone doing it, but I’m sure Percy has some strings he can pull if it’s something his brother and Pansy will be on board with. Which based on the fuck me eyes Pansy keeps giving him is likely.”
Hermione snorts at my comment, and shakes her head as she blushes. Pansy gives her a questioning look, and Charlie just smiles at her before turning his attention back to Pansy.
“So, what do you say, Pansy?” Percy suddenly asks, raising a brow at her and looking between her and his brother. “Do we have a deal?”
Everyone at the table – including Luna and Theo who had been making out for the past twenty minutes – turns their attention to the trio. Pansy has her head tilted, thinking. Charlie is leaning forward, his head practically on her shoulder as he says something none of us can hear and then she’s nodding, giving Percy a tight smile. “We have a deal. I’ll sign the paperwork and have it to you in the morning,” she says curtly.
I look at Hermione, giving her my best ‘I told you so’ look and she rolls her eyes, bringing her wine glass to her lips and taking a hearty sip.
Percy excuses himself then, leaving Pansy with a Ministry folder and Charlie. He gives Hermione a tiny wave on his way out, ignoring the rest of us. Hermione yawns into her hand, slumping a little deeper into her chair and I tap her shoulder gently, motioning with my head to the back where the floo is. She nods, and we stand, saying goodbye to those that remain.
I pull Pansy aside while Hermione chats with Charlie.
“We need to talk.”
Pansy nods, crossing her arms over her chest. “Theo mentioned he slipped up, and I’m still working on collecting the information I need to present to you and Hermione. I’ll come by Monday and we can discuss.”
“Or you could tell me now,” I argue, blocking her path to the table with my body when she tries to walk around me.
She glares up at me. “All I know is that Kingsley decided to add some magic to your contract to make you two more compliant. I don’t know the specifics yet. I’ve hired Percy Weasley, under the table of course, to look into your contracts discreetly and he will report his findings to me Sunday evening, along with possible ways to fix it.”
I bite my tongue against arguing, nodding instead when I spot Hermione walking closer. “Fine, Monday morning then.”
“Brunch,” Pansy counters.
“Fine,” I mutter.
Pansy walks past with a saccharine smile, kissing Hermione on both cheeks and having a quiet conversation before she returns to Charlie. Hermione approaches me slowly, a tentative smile on her lips.
“Ready?” she asks quietly, motioning to the fireplace down the hallway. I nod, holding out my arm to her.
Once in the Manor, we walk to our chambers quietly. After contemplating whether I should or shouldn’t tell her about what Pansy suspects, I sigh and decide to tell her the simplest thing I can, just in case there’s really nothing special about our contracts after all.
We both knew the contract was going to be enchanted; it was in our information packets that there were spells embedded in the contract to ensure we were complying with the living arrangements, and that the Ministry would be informed when the marriage was consummated. If there was more than that though, Kingsley had failed to mention it or purposefully withheld the information.
“Pansy is coming over Sunday for brunch,” I finally say once we’re in our sitting room. “She wants to talk about our contract.”
Hermione rolls her eyes, nodding. “Trying to prepare for her own?” Her tone is light, although she seems tired.
I shrug, not wanting to worry her. She’s an overthinker, and if I tell her now that there may be something more with our contracts, she’ll probably spend all night and all of tomorrow stressed and overthinking until Pansy comes to us with answers. Hermione doesn’t need to be stressed, and it’s my job to provide for her and protect her.
She sighs, but nods. “I’m headed to bed, I’m a bit tired. Too much wine,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck as if trying to massage a kink out of it.
“Okay, goodnight, gorgeous,” I say softly.
She gives me a small smile, stepping closer until she’s right before me. She places a hand on my shoulder and I place my own on her waist, steadying her as she stands on her toes and leans forward to place a gentle kiss on my cheek. I savor it, craving desperately to return the gesture, but not wanting to scare her.
I’ll take whatever I can get , I think to myself.
“Goodnight, Malfoy,” she murmurs, stepping away and rushing to her room.
I stand in the sitting room for a few minutes, staring after her even after the door has closed.
Chapter 13: Family Brunch
Notes:
Not sure if it needs to be a warning, but there is some slight spice in the very beginning of the chapter.
I'm sorry I'm a few days late! I have already started the next chapter though, and plan to have it out Sunday. We had a family emergency and so my schedule was thrown off a bit.
Chapter Text
I shiver and arch into Draco’s bare chest, my breaths coming in uneven and gasping against the expanse of his neck. He’s braced one of his elbows beside my head, his fingers brushing sweat dampened hair off my forehead tenderly and his lips trailing the shell of my ear. His other hand is gripping my hip so hard I know he’ll leave marks, but I don’t care – there’s no pain with his grip, all I feel is adored.
“Fuck, you’re so good for me, darling,” he murmurs against my ear, his teeth gently tugging on it. “Open your legs, darling, I’ll make you feel good.”
I gasp at the feel of his erection against my core, teasing and rubbing perfectly when I wrap my legs around his hips, urging him closer, wanting him to just come in already. The hand that was holding hip slides between our sweaty bodies, and slides down towards my clit, just barely grazing it with the tip of his finger.
“Do you want me, darling?”
I nod, whimpering when he circles my clit torturously.
“Use your words, darling,” he murmurs with a chuckle against my neck, licking and sucking. “I need to hear you say the words.”
“Yes, yes, I–”
I wake with a gasp, sitting up and looking around to make sure I truly am alone. Grateful for the silencing charm I've cast on my bedroom every night in case I have nightmares, I grab my pillow and bury my face into it with a shriek of irritation.
Every single night since our wedding night, I've had these hyper realistic dreams of Draco. And every morning when I wake up, my panties are soaked. It hasn't even been a week and I feel like I might go insane if I can't figure out why this is happening.
While I've always found him attractive, and beautiful in a Greek sculpture type of way, I've seldom had dreams that make me want to climb him like a tree…multiple, multiple times. Or moments where it feels like I can’t look at anything but him. And since when am I hyperaware of the way he smells? I feel like a dog in heat, and it’s infuriating.
Last night, I snuck into Malfoy's library and spent an hour going through a catalog of Malfoy jewelry and the enchantments most had. Apparently the pages automatically update the information for each piece of jewelry, and when I came across Draco and I’s matching set, I was shocked – and a bit disappointed – that there wasn't any magic causing these dreams or the random spurts of arousal I got when he stood too close or when his arms flexed, or an explanation for these stupid dreams. Aside from protective enchantments, a tracking spell, an enchantment to prevent any bastard heirs (on either side, which was surprising), a portkey, and an enchantment to guarantee the first pregnancy would be a male. Nothing surprising, although once I'd seen some of the other couple's enchantments, I'd been shocked beyond belief.
Narcissa’s ring was enchanted to make her unyieldingly loyal to her husband. She also had enchantments that prevented any male not related to her from touching her. Lucius’ ring had an enchantment that prevented him from causing bodily harm to Narcissa, along with an enchantment to keep him faithful to Narcissa. While his list was short – consisting of only three enchantments – Narcissa's had nearly a dozen. Looking between hers and my own to her son, I was grateful that Draco hadn't been as controlling as Lucius. Unlike Narcissa, I didn't have an enchantment that would make me fertile longer and make me seek out my husband for coital relations like my life depended on it.
Remembering the books I'd been so immersed in learning the personal details of multiple Malfoy families, my arousal and the dream from last night is pushed from my mind and I'm instead reminded of my first brunch with Narcissa herself. While she's been kind on the few occasions we've interacted, and she was truly lovely and motherly when we went dress shopping, I'm hesitant to let my guard down around her. Especially if her loyalty is to her husband first and she's supposed to be aligned with his views. Knowing how he feels about my heritage, I can only imagine how disappointed and disgusted he must be that his only son got matched with me. If he's expressed his disgust to his wife, I'm assuming her behavior towards me will be less kind and more condescending than anything. Having heard of her ability to make or break a witch’s reputation, I’m nervous about what to expect from the Malfoy matriarch.
After checking the time and confirming with myself that I have a little over two hours to get ready, I head into the bathroom to take a bath and wash my hair. As I'm in the bath, I contemplate what I should wear. Usually when I have brunch with Pansy, it's casual and a simple summer dress suffices. Having brunch with someone like Narcissa Malfoy who dresses impeccably for everything (I mean seriously, even at her trial she was dressed to impress), I'm unsure what to wear. Dress robes? A sundress? Certainly not jeans and a T-shirt like I've done with Astoria when we've gone to Muggle London. By the time I'm done with my bath and have gotten my curls under control and in a braid down my back, I have come to no decision on clothes and am instead pacing inside my closet as I go through the contents in the closet multiple times.
At some point one of the elves must’ve organized the contents in the closet so that it’s separated by season, color, and even by occasion – there’s an entire area designated to formal gowns that I know I didn’t buy. I slump onto the floor with a groan, pulling my phone out of my pocket and texting Pansy to see if she can give me an idea of what to wear. After ten minutes with no response, I assume she’s either sleeping or with Charlie, since I saw them leave together and they were giving each other sultry looks. While I thought seeing Charlie would be awkward, he made no comments regarding my failed relationship with his brother and was very friendly and polite. Percy, Charlie, and Bill were never really as close with Ron growing up, but I still worried that they’d see my refusal to marry him even when he was having a child with another woman as a betrayal of sorts. I also feared they might also blame me for Fred’s death like Ron and Ginny did; although Ginny never actually said it directly, but she had a way of saying things in a way that made it obvious what the underlying meaning was.
Checking my phone again, I realize I’ve only got an hour to finish getting ready and I throw my head back in exasperation. Realizing I’m pretty much out of options, I decide the best I can do is ask Narcissa’s son what his wife would be expected to wear for brunch with his Mother. Here goes nothing.
I pull myself up, adjust my robe and make sure it’s securely tied before walking out of my closet and nervously towards the bedroom door. I hesitate for a minute, glancing back at my closet and praying an outfit magically announces itself as the perfect option. When that doesn’t happen, I sigh and turn the handle, stepping into the sitting area and leaving my door cracked before I make my way to his door. I inhale a deep breath, wipe my palms on my robe, and give two sharp knocks that sound way too loud in the small space.
Some rustling on the other side of the door, then Draco is standing before me in nothing but a towel. Again. Does he ever wear clothes? Is he always just undressed in his room doing Merlin knows what? This time though, he’s got a toothbrush sticking out his mouth.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says brightly. He pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth and leans against the doorway, looking down at me with that annoyingly flirty look he gets sometimes. “What can I help you with this fine morning?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Good morning, Malfoy,” I say politely. “I don’t know what to wear to brunch with your Mother. I was hoping you could tell me the setting for the brunch and whether I should dress casual or semi-casual, or if she prefers I dress formal for occasions with her or if you prefer anything.” I snap my close when I realize how insecure I sound and internally curse myself for it.
I have been working on being more confident since leaving Ron, and now that I’m in a forced relationship with some other man, here comes bushy-toothy-pudgy Hermione to remind me I still haven’t gotten back to how I was before he pointed out all my flaws. I guess at this point all I can do is hope Draco Malfoy isn’t someone who will exploit my insecurities the way Ron – and sometimes Molly and Harry – did in the past.
“Just wear something you’re comfortable in,” Draco says softly.
I frown at him. “Okay, so pajamas would be fine?”
He chuckles, then shrugs. “If you want to wear pajamas to brunch, I will join you on the occasion, Amorina .”
I squint at him, ignoring the new nickname he’s decided to try out and focusing instead on the fact that we’ve got less than an hour before his Mother arrives for brunch. “Malfoy, please be serious, I need your help. I am asking for your help.”
He sighs, looking up at the ceiling. The column of his neck is exposed and my mind immediately drifts to the feeling of the delicate skin of his neck beneath my lips, the salty taste of his skin on my tongue as I run my tongue from his collarbone to his jaw just before I slip it in his mouth and–
“Fine, let’s see what you’ve got. Most couples usually match somewhat for public meals with other people, I guess we can use this as a practice run.” Draco walks past me and towards my room, still in nothing but a towel and I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat while I follow him to my room and sit on the edge of the bed.
He shuffles clothes back and forth in my closet, and from where I’m sitting I can see his back muscles ripple with the move. Somehow his towel is holding strong, and I wonder if there’s some sort of sticking charm on it. His body is so muscular in a way it wasn’t when we were in school, though his thighs were always thick and muscular thanks to his love for flying and Quidditch. I can’t even remember why I’ve been so against sex or relationships at this moment.
I clench my thighs together, feeling the moisture pooled there and wondering when that happened. I haven’t been this turned on without being touched probably ever.
Just fuck him, he’s your husband. Nobody is going to judge you. The sooner you do it, the quicker you’ll provide the Ministry with a child.
I glare down at my ring, half convinced there’s some hidden magic in there to make me feel this way and think such things when I don’t even know the man I’m married to. And if being near strangers weren’t enough, he’s also my childhood bully, and I have to have some boundaries and a little bit of self-respect; even if I feel like that all went out the window when I stayed with Ron for so long.
Sex doesn’t have to be personal, it’s just fucking. You’re doing it for the Ministry, not for him or for yourself. Just fuck him. Invite him to your bed. Now is the perfect time.
I jump off the bed, wrapping my arms around my chest, praying that my now hardened nipples aren’t visible through the pink cotton of my robe. Thankfully, Draco isn’t even looking in my direction. Instead he stands frozen in my closet, his head tilted down, and his hands fisting one of the dresses hanging in the closet tightly.
Fuck, is his ring telling him the same? Does he know what I’ve been thinking? Has he been having the same hyper-realistic dreams?
“Have you found anything?” I ask, still standing next to the bed with my arms wrapped tightly around myself. My voice sounds shrill to my ears and I clear my throat, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
He nods after a second, reaching beside him without looking and grabbing a pale green corseted midi dress. “This would be perfect,” he nearly growls as he walks out of the closet and sets it on the bed. The way he's standing makes the tent in the towel obvious, and I have to force my eyes to look anywhere but at his slightly parted towel, and work even harder to not think about the size of his penis.
He thinks you would look perfect in that dress. Put it on and let him fuck you in it. You’re already so close to the bed, just step into it. He’ll follow you, he’d do anything to please you.
I take a big step back from the bed – and Draco – stumbling into the dresser and hissing at the sting on my lower back. “Um, thank you,” I stammer.
He looks at me, and his eyes are nearly black. His nostrils are flaring and his gaze is so intense, I feel like I could drown in it. His jaw is clenched so tightly, I can see the way it feathers slightly when he shifts. He takes a step towards me, then abruptly stops and shakes his head, closing his eyes and stepping backwards until he's standing in the doorway. “If you need help with the corset, call for Millie,” he says tightly before rushing off to his room. His door clicks shut quietly.
I stare after him for a few minutes before shaking myself out of my stupor and walking to close the door after him. Sighing, I grab the dress and head into the bathroom where I left my wand sitting on the counter. I summon a fresh pair of knickers, absolutely mortified at how damp mine became from the absolute nothing that occurred with Draco, and then get dressed in a haste. I try to use my wand to do up the laces of the corset, but after ten irritating minutes and the reminder that I have less than fifteen minutes until Narcissa arrives, I huff and set my wand roughly on the counter.
“Millie?” I ask tentatively, not sure if she'll answer or if there's a special phrase or word I should use. Draco doesn't seem to call on the house elves often, and usually I only see them in passing or during meal times if they've cooked.
A Pop! to my right and Millie appears in the bathroom, wearing a beautiful pink garden dress with a straw hat. “Mistress Hermione, how can Millie be helpful?”
I blush, smiling at her. “Millie, you look amazing. I'm sorry if I'm distracting you or keeping you from other arrangements.”
She shakes her head enthusiastically, her ears bouncing on her head with the movement. “Oh no! Millie is most happy to help Mistress. Millie is honored to be called by Mistress Hermione.” She gives a bow so low her nose nearly touches the floor and I step forward, holding out my hands.
“Please, you don't have to bow for me, really.” I say softly, giving her a small smile. “I appreciate you coming to help me.”
She beams up at me, wringing her hands in front of her small frame.
I sigh pathetically, motioning at my dress. “I never had a reason to practice lacing up a corset with a wand, and it turns out I am terrible at it. I was hoping you could help me? If it's not too much trouble, of course.”
Millie claps her hands together, nodding and conjuring a step stool behind me. She hops onto it quickly and places my braid over my shoulder, before her long fingers are taking hold of the corset strings and she's lacing them up with ease. “Mistress is looking very beautiful indeed. Master Draco got this dress for Mistress before she moved in, Master Draco loves green. He thinks Mistress looks amazing in green, maroon, and all the pastels. Master Draco said so.”
My chest tightens taking in her words, and I frown at my reflection in the mirror. I don't particularly shop thinking about what colors look good on me, but seeing myself in the mirror this particular shade of green – light and almost cloudy – does make my skin look less pale and somehow makes the freckles on my shoulders and upper chest look flattering. But how would he have known what colors look good on me? Why would he care?
Is it possible he actually meant what he said about having fancied me before? Or is this just some ploy to get me to soften and give him multiple heirs? It's obvious looking at his family history – and most pureblood family history – that they value heirs, but I didn't expect he'd want one with me considering my parentage. I assumed we'd consummate as was required by the Ministry to avoid Azkaban, but I had always had the assumption that he and I would be on the same page when it came to finding ways to avoid a pregnancy when the time came. Maybe this is one of the topics we should've discussed when he'd been under Veritaserum, even if I did feel guilty that he'd felt it was necessary to earn my trust.
Part of me despises that he knows I don't trust him, and I want to tell him it isn't personal, but how can I without telling him anything else? He was second in marks behind me at school; I know he has a thirst for knowledge just as deep as mine. And for some insane reason, he makes me want to talk. I don't know if it's because I'm focused on this being a temporary situation or if I actually trust him, but I want to talk. When we spent the entire night playing games and talking and watching movies, it was so nice. I've done all those things with Pansy, Theo, Astoria and Blaise, but it felt so different with Draco. It was more peaceful and even slightly intimate with him. The way it felt was as comforting as it was terrifying, because I can't afford to let my guard down. Draco works with Harry, and if he were to mention something around Harry, Harry would tell Ron. Because even though we're the “Golden Trio”, Harry and Ron have always been closest; they're a set of their own. And if Ron knew I told anyone, he'd kill the only family I have. I didn't upheave their entire lives for them to get killed years after the war because I couldn't keep my mouth shut about a shitty relationship.
“Thank you, Millie,” I whisper when she's finished lacing the corset, and I give her a watery smile.
She frowns at me through the mirror, her head just barely above my shoulder. “Should Millie help Mistress with her hair? I think Mistress would like her hair down with this dress.”
I nod, looking down at my hands and letting her work on my hair. My rings feel cold against my finger, and I clench and unclench my first multiple times to try to warm it before I decide it's futile. Remembering the purpose, I wonder what Draco could be feeling at this moment to make it so cold.
“Millie is all done,” she announces proudly behind me. “Mistress has beautiful hair, it's very soft.”
I smile and give her my thanks before she disappears, taking her stool with her. I slip my wand holster up my leg and onto my thigh, secure my wand in it and then head to the closet in search of shoes. By the time I've slipped into comfortable flats and stepped out of my room, we've only got four minutes until Narcissa is set to arrive.
Draco is sitting in one of the upholstered chaises, reading a newspaper. When he hears me, he folds it and sets it on the table, standing and offering his elbow without even looking at me.
His expression is closed off, his skin a bit pale, and his eyes are hollow. His lips are set in a hard line, and his jaw is clenched. He stands like a statue as he waits for me to take his arm, and when I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow, I hiss at how cold he feels.
He's occluding.
This brunch is going to be a disaster if he feels he needs to occlude to see his Mother.
Brunch with Narcissa so far was going great; she was polite, sweet and kept the conversation light. Draco had barely said a dozen words since we'd come out to join her on the back porch. He'd kissed his Mother on the cheek, pulled her chair out and then tucked her in before opening my chair for me with a practiced bow of his head. I had sat quickly, and he had tucked me into the table before taking his seat. We were arranged in a circular table and the center was occupied by an extravagant arrangement of different croissants, finger sandwiches, a few protein options, and the most delicious fruit I had ever tasted.
Thankfully, Narcissa had monopolized the conversation and was talking about who had married whom in the past few days and who had chosen Azkaban or giving up their magic over marriage. Draco was sitting stiffly in his seat, occasionally giving a hum or grunt of acknowledgement if Narcissa directed anything at him. After an hour, brunch was cleared and Narcissa sat with her hands clasped in her lap, looking between Draco and myself.
I lower my gaze, twisting my wedding rings on my finger and trying to ignore the feeling of her eyes on me.
“We should plan a brunch and have your parents visit, I'd love to meet them,” Narcissa finally says, her tone bright.
I chew the inside of my cheek, shaking my head. “Um, they're not in the picture.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry, dear. I had no idea they'd passed, Draco didn't mention it.” She sounds sympathetic, she reaches over to squeeze my shoulder in a small gesture of comfort.
At her words, my eyes start to prickle and sting, and I wish I could choke on the knot in my throat so I don't have to clarify.
“They're not dead,” I whisper at last. I look up, meeting her dark eyes. “They're not in my life because they don't know they have a daughter. I Obliviated them before going on the run with Harry and Ron. I needed to keep them safe; I didn't want Voldemort or another Death Eater going after them to get to me or Harry.”
I can feel Draco's eyes burning into the side of the face, but I keep my gaze pinned to a willow tree in the distance behind Narcissa. Her gaze is just as intense as her son's, and her hand finds mine and holds it tightly. She's rubbing soothing circles on the top of my hand, and my chest squeezes tightly at the gesture, remembering the way my mom used to do the same to me when I was nervous or scared or sad.
I feel Draco's trouser covered leg brush mine under the table and I jump in my seat, turning to look at him before relaxing back into my seat. He looks regretful, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed.
“If it's any consolation, you did the right thing,” Narcissa says softly beside me.
I turn my attention back to her, raising a brow. “What do you mean?”
She sighs, drawing her hand back and twisting the charm on her necklace. I recognize it as the Black family crest before she tugs it into the collar of her violet robes.
“Voldemort was looking for anyone he could use to get Mr.Potter within his reach. He tasked Bellatrix with bringing your family to him. He knew even if it didn't draw Mr.Potter to him, that you'd at least go to them.” She inhales, glances at Draco then looks back at me with her face twisted as if she tasted something sour. “He was going to negotiate their lives for your sworn fealty to him. Everyone knew how talented you have always been, and he was hoping that if you were on his side, it would be easier for him to take over Wizarding London and take down Mr.Potter at the same time.”
I stare at her, taking in her words, filling in gaps that never quite made sense before. “Is..did…she burned my parents’ house down?” I whisper.
She purses her lips, nodding. “I went with her to make sure she didn't go overboard, I didn't want her to torture your family or someone else, but she was so angry when the house appeared to be abandoned that she just…” she trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.
And I understand why, it's not like I want to hear the details again. I remember them vividly.
After the war, I'd gone to my childhood home to try and prepare it for when my parents’ memories were returned to them. The house was a disaster. It had looked like someone had stabbed all the furniture in the house, plates and vases and decorations were smashed to pieces throughout the house, and most of the downstairs had been burned. There was nothing that was salvageable, though I had thankfully taken a lot of the more sentimental things and taken them with me in my headed bag – something nobody knew, even to this day.
“I'm really, really sorry, Mrs.Granger,” Narcissa says, reaching for my hands but stopping when she sees that they're enveloped in Draco's.
I don't even know when he took my hands in his, but it feels good. His hands are big and warm, protective and safe. He has callouses in a few spots. His thumb dances over my hand in a soothing motion, and I find my eyes locked on the movement.
“Thank you,” I whisper at last, clearing my throat before speaking louder, willing my voice stronger. “Thank you for going, for the bit of protection you tried to offer my parents. And thank you for Harry as well. Your kindness turned the table for us in the end.” I say honestly.
She gives me a sad smile. “Draco seemed to admire you. I figured the least I could do was protect the parents who had raised such a formidable young woman. What I did for Mr.Potter, however, was purely selfish. I was only searching for my son.”
I smile sadly, nodding. “Still. He had already told you Draco was okay, you could've told Voldemort he was alive and gone on to find your son.”
She shakes her head, looking down. “I couldn't live with a child's death on my hands. He was innocent. The only thing he was guilty of then was trying to survive.”
I frown at her wording. “What do you mean the only thing he was guilty of then?”
She gives me a knowing, sad look. “A woman knows–”
A crash from inside the house followed by shouting interrupts whatever she was going to say and Draco is immediately on his feet standing between us and the door.
“Dray! Do you still have unregistered wands? I'm going to kill that fucking–”
“Miss Parkinson!” Narcissa reprimands, stepping around Draco and meeting the witch at the door. “Your language is unbecoming of a lady!”
Pansy nods apologetically, but when she looks at Draco and me her anger is still clear in every line of her body and has the ends of her fingers sparkling. “I'm sorry, Narcissa. Draco, I got information on your marriage contract.”
I step around him, standing beside me and crossing my arms nervously. “What do you mean?”
Draco tenses, but motions inside and we all make our way to the office downstairs. Pansy is stomping angrily as she walks.
When Draco closes the door – something that seems futile considering everyone is already in the office and it's not like anyone else lives with us – he motions for Pansy to speak.
“He cast a lust enchantment on your marriage contract that only activates when Hermione is most likely to get pregnant.” Pansy speaks quickly, looking at the ceiling.
Narcissa gasps behind me, and Draco curses under his breath. I do the math in my head and realize that I will be ovulating tomorrow.
Technically speaking, I could get pregnant if we were to be intimate tonight.
Or last night.
This whole time I thought I was going crazy, but instead it was the Ministry once again doing whatever they want. Once again it was Kingsley Shacklebolt taking choices away from me, forcing me to feel things in the hopes of getting what he wants.
“I'm going to fucking kill him,” I whisper, walking out of the office and rushing out the front door of the Manor and to where Draco had mentioned the apparition point was for the property. I apparate quickly, ignoring the voices of one angry Pansy Parkinson and a concerned Draco Malfoy.
Chapter 14: Curse Breakers
Chapter Text
“Fuck!” I yell when Hermione disappears without a backwards glance.
“Draco!” Narcissa snaps, her tone reminding me of being scolded when I was younger and got in trouble for having too many sweets and requiring a stomach potion or two.
“Right now is not the time for an etiquette lesson, Mother.” I snap, already walking to the apparition point on the property to follow my wife. Fucking Gryffindors, always just running off and acting on impulses instead of taking the time to fucking think things through. For a witch so bright – and known throughout the Wizarding community as the Golden Girl – she seems to have a streak for making decisions with little to no information and without any preparation.
At this particular moment, I'm annoyed at how impulsive she is. I don’t like going into situations without having done research, collecting information I can use to negotiate, or having a concrete plan and a backup plan. Her Gryffindor heart is showing, but just this once I wish she would stop and think like a Slytherin. Showing up at the Minister’s home or office running on anger is bound to end with her – and myself since I’m following her anywhere at this point – in Azkaban, awaiting trial for attacking the Minister and spending the rest of our lives rotting in a cell. Now, we’ll be working with the minimum amount of information to try to fix this whole mess.
“Where are you going?” Pansy asks, following me.
“You and I can talk later. Stay here with Mom,” I snap, not slowing my steps even as she stumbles to keep up with me. “I'm going after my wife.”
“You don't even know where she went! Let me come with you, I can help,” Pansy pleads, grabbing my arm.
I yank my arm free, shaking her off. “No. I'm going, you're staying here. Get Blaise here, have him bring Daphne over in case we need a curse breaker.”
I don't even wait for her to answer before I turn on the spot, apparating just outside the anti-apparition wards surrounding Kingsley’s property. A quick look around is all I get before I hear shattering glass and Hermione’s angry voice spilling out of the open front door to Kingsley’s home. His home is secluded in the country, but there’s a safe house two miles away with Aurors on standby should Kingsley call for them or send the distress signal. Given that at the moment I don’t see any sparks flying up in the sky, and I don’t see anyone running towards the wards or apparating in, I’m hoping that Hermione either has him contained, disarmed, or that somehow the conversation is civil.
Irritated and worried she might be hurt, I run down the walkway and barge into the house, finding Hermione and Kingsley Shacklebolt in the living room with a coffee table between them. The tea service he must’ve tried to offer lay shattered on the ground, but thankfully Hermione seems to be one in charge; Kingsley cowering on one side of the living room with Hermione’s wand pointed at him.
When Kingsley spots me walking in –slowing my steps to not startle Hermione and end up hexed to oblivion, and standing beside her – he seems to relax. He probably thinks I’m all on board for anything that’ll make it easier for me to get an heir – Salazar knows everyone has been bothering me about an heir since I finished eighth year – but I was fully prepared to play the long game with Hermione and do things the right way. And what he’s done, could’ve cost me any trust or progress I’ve made with Hermione, which makes me very not on his side and very much on hers.
Knowing about the lust enchantment – whatever that might entail – makes me feel like anything Hermione and I would’ve done physically (even if we didn’t get all the way to consummating the marriage) would’ve been rape while this enchantment was present. And I might be accused of a lot of things, but I would never do anything to harm a woman in any way.
So right now, I am going to do whatever my wife decides is best. Because regardless of how driven I have felt to bed her, I at least have always wanted her in any capacity she would have me. She, however, has made it clear that she doesn’t trust me and wouldn’t want to have sex with me; she barely agreed to date me, and now I have to wonder if that was also driven by this lust enchantment. If she’s been feeling lustful for me lately, it’s obviously been against her will.
***
My wand shakes in my hand as I lower it, glaring at the man I used to think of as a friend, a mentor, before everything went to hell with this law he passed. Now, I just feel violated, humiliated, and angry. My stomach is burning with acid at the realization that my feelings, the attraction I felt for Draco, wasn’t all my own today, and it feels disgusting that someone else was in charge of those feelings. He probably had a good laugh as he talked to whomever he had planned this whole thing with (because there’s no way he did this on his own), waiting until a baby Malfoy announcement was made to gloat and praise himself even more than he normally does in front of audiences.
Draco is standing right beside me, his warmth pressing in on me in a way that is slightly distracting. I didn’t expect him to find me so quickly; I didn’t even know he knew where Kingsley lived. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shift as he takes in our surroundings, something I probably should’ve done before hexing Kingsley and barging into his home. At least I’m not alone now, I can trust Draco to have my back.
“I was trying to help,” Kingsley says again, his voice wavering slightly. “It was meant to help you, you were distraught and you said you wouldn’t comply. I was only trying to keep you out of Azkaban. You know I think of you as a daughter.”
“DON”T! Don’t you dare act as if you did it for me, you selfish, coward, poor excuse of a man! A father would never do this to anyone’s daughter.” My voice cracks towards the end, and I grip my wand tighter, shifting on my feet to keep myself distracted from the angry tears that are making my eyes sting.
Kingsley circles the table, trying to get closer to me. “I was only trying to help, I swear it. The magic is meant to just make you notice each other more and make you want to be around the other more. If there's physical contact, it'll just make you feel rewarded until you've performed your matrimonial duties. And once you've become fertile, it'll make the need for consummation that much stronger and you'll both be able to ignore your actual feelings in place of what the enchantments cast on you. You're guaranteed to get pregnant the first time, it really is a good thing, Hermione. I didn't want to have to watch you go to Azkaban all because you couldn't bring yourself to consummate the marriage. This was for both of your sakes.” Kingsley looks desperately from my face to Draco’s, clearly seeking confirmation or validation that what he did was right or justified.
“I didn’t ask for your help, I asked you not to pass this stupid law.” I raise my wand and point it at the ground between his body and mine, firing off a stinging hex that makes him jump away, surprise and irritation marring his features. “I offered alternatives, different ways to get people to want to become parents, and you shut everything down. You didn’t even take my proposals into consideration or even look at them before saying no! And then you go and do this ?! It’s humiliating, and barbaric, and perverse!” My eyes sting with unshed tears, and I blink rapidly to force them away, not wanting to cry in front of someone I used to think of as a friend, as someone who I could trust. Instinctively, I step back, closer to Draco, the only person here I can trust to have my back.
“This law was necessary, your alternatives wouldn't have given us enough magical children born quickly enough. The new years at Hogwarts are getting smaller in size, even you've noticed the numbers,” Kingsley tries to placate.
“Because everyone is still trying to recover from the war! You think fixing a few buildings is enough to help people heal? There are still Death Eaters on the run, terrorizing where they can, and then going back underground. If your people don't feel safe, they're not going to bring innocent children into it, especially if they feel another war is coming.”
Kingsley sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. “I'm not going to argue with you, Hermione. This law was necessary, I did what was best for the wizarding world. You and your husband are getting more help and support than any other couple that has been matched. I had hoped that the enchantment could be offered to other couples if it proved to be effective in your marriage, given how opposed you are to it and the strained relationship between you two.”
Draco growls behind me, his hand wrapping around my waist and tugging me back so I'm beside him. “You thought to use us as your experiment? Without even asking us?”
Kingsley shrugs, looking smug. “I'm doing what's necessary. You'd be surprised at the things you can do when it's been determined that we're at risk of extinction.”
I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief. “This crap again? Extinction? That's dramatic, even for you. But let me guess, you just wanted to speed things up, skip through all the red tape so you scared the Wizengamot into agreeing with you.”
He purses his lips closed, his body tensing slightly before he drops his arms to his sides, his fists clenched. I tighten my grip on my wand, fully prepared to hex him if he takes a step closer to me or reaches for his wand.
“We're friends, Hermione. We fought in the same war, on the same side,” he gives a pointed look to Draco and I glare at Kingsley for the underhanded comment. “Provide the Ministry with two children, and I will grant you the divorce from Mr.Malfoy. You will leave with what you came with, and half of the Malfoy vault's contents. You can decide what to do with your offspring. It's a good deal, it gives us both what we want. Be grateful and accept it, this is the only time it'll be on the table.”
Draco is tense beside me, his fists clenched at his sides. Anger radiates from him in waves, and he's glaring at Kingsley as if he could burn a hole through his head if he only focuses enough.
“No, I do not accept your offer,” I snap, glaring at him. “If you knew me at all, you'd know I wouldn't stay in a marriage just to get money out of it, and I certainly wouldn't bring children into such a fucking mess.”
Kingsley sighs, shaking his head. “Fine, suit yourself, but I did try to help you. I offered you an easy way out.”
“You think I should be grateful? For what? For giving up more of my life to please you?” I ask incredulously, hating the tight feeling in my chest at being betrayed by yet another person I thought I could trust. Clearly my trust radar is worthless if I keep finding myself in shitty situations. I guess being book smart and actually smart are two completely different things, and I’m obviously lacking in the latter.
“That's a bit dramatic, don't you think? I'm not asking you to give anything up, you're young and you've had a full life that–”
“A full life?!” I yell, gobsmacked at his choice of words, wondering if he actually believes it or if he's that delusional. “Was I living a full life when I was bullied and belittled for my roots from the moment I stepped into Hogwarts and people found out about my parentage? Was I living a full life when Dumbledore asked me to help Harry with everything and anything? All of you placed Harry’s life in my hands, giving me reading material and stupid riddles to figure out what the hell we were supposed to do to defeat Voldemort! Was I living a full life when I gave up my parents to protect them, having to choose to stay away from them to keep them safe? Was I living a full life when I had to give up my education to go on the run hunting Horcruxes with Harry and Ron, starving and scared? Oh and let's not forget the full life I lived being tortured by Bellatrix in the home of the man you married me to, while he watched!” I shake my head, angry at myself for the tears that are now freely running down my face, blurring my sight. I feel Draco's hand resting lightly on my waist, his body solid beside me and I lean into him slightly to try and collect myself. “I gave up my childhood, my peace of mind, any semblance of safety and I am still not safe,” I continue, my voice cracking. “And now you are ordering me to give up my autonomy, my chance to find someone who can truly love me, and expecting me to be grateful? As if I didn’t give up enough during the war, at your and Dumbledore’s request.”
Kingsley sighs, and this time when he speaks, he actually sounds sorry. “I am sorry about everything that happened during the war, Hermione. But you have to understand, everyone had a role to play in it. Harry trusted you, you were one of his closest friends, and certainly the only one who could’ve kept him content to continue with the path he was put on.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “It never should’ve been my responsibility. I was a child, we were all children. We had no business fighting that war, the adults should’ve been the ones protecting us.”
He purses his lips, looking at me pitifully. “It’s too late for me to change the past,” is all he says, shrugging at the end.
I stare at him, willing myself to memorize everything in this moment. Draco’s quiet and humble support, the way he’s standing slightly in front of me, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, already pointed at Kingsley’s feet. Kingsley Shacklebolt looking smug with his arms crossed over his chest, his wand strapped to the holster on his arm, giving me a pitiful look like I’m the one that’s being irrational. The man I used to trust, now a complete stranger in front of me. And I had seen it coming. I had seen the way that having power and fame chipped away at every good quality he had and turned him into a power hungry man, always wanting more – more money, more laws he could pass, more interviews, more allies to up his ideas.
“Remove the enchantment,” I say at last. “I don’t care what you have to do, that enchantment will be removed today. And I want all the information you have on it immediately. Everything, starting with when the enchantment was added to our contract, any research, any amendments you made to it.”
Kingsley purses his lips, brows furrowing as he looks between Draco and myself, his chin in his hand as he thinks. “How did you find out about it?” He asks after what feels like an eternity of silence.
I open my mouth to answer, but Draco beats me to it. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have my own solicitors look into any contracts my wife or I sign?”
Kingsley nods, but there’s doubt lingering in his features. “It wasn’t written into your contract though,” he says casually.
“I hire competent people to look over family affairs,” Draco says with a smirk. “I have half a dozen curse breakers on call, Minister. You’re not the only one with connections.”
Kingsley chuckles, looking down and shuffling his feet through the broken glass on the floor. “Fine, fine. I’ll get my assistant to bring the contract here now and all our notes on it, and contact my curse breaker to remove the enchantment. Is this really what you want, Hermione?”
I nod. “Yes. I want the enchantments removed immediately.”
He sighs, pulling his wand from his holster and calling on his patronus. He has a quiet conversation and then the lynx is sauntering away.
I shift on my feet, nervous as we wait. Draco places his hand on my lower back and guides me in the direction of the kitchen, keeping his head half turned as he walks to watch Kingsley out the corner of his eye. Kingsley sits on the couch in the living room, crossing one leg over his knee as he waits with a smirk on his lips, as if somehow he’s still winning.
“Are you okay?” Draco asks, turning me to face him and taking my face in his hands. His eyes search my face, brows scrunched in concentration, his thumbs rubbing circles on my cheekbones.
I nod, holding my breath at his proximity, knowing that the warmth I feel in my lower stomach is due to the enchantments. Still, I step forward until my forehead is leaning on his chest, my shoulders slumping as the rush of adrenaline drains out of me, replaced instead by pure exhaustion.
“I’m going to send my patronus for one of our curse breakers,” Draco says after a few minutes. “Just to be sure he actually removes the enchantments, and to verify there isn’t anything else he decided to add. He can’t be trusted to be transparent with us.”
I nod, my forehead still pressed against his chest, my eyes closed. I’m now fully breathing him in, and I want to crawl into his arms and make a cocoon out of him to stay warm and safe.
“Hermione, are you okay?” Draco asks again, his hands gripping my upper arms gently and tugging me back. His steel eyes search mine, and I feel almost drunk as I step away, shaking my head to clear the haze.
“Yes, I-I just need some water,” I stutter, turning my back on him.
Kingsley has a satisfied smirk on his face, and he claps his hands together. “So it
does
work. Is that how you really found out?”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself straight in front of him, willing myself not to shrink as he takes me and Draco in with hungry, greedy eyes.
“Kingsley, Minister or not, you really don’t want to be speaking right now,” Draco growls. “Hermione, why don’t you go wait out back? Get some fresh air. I’ll watch him.”
I nod, hurrying past him and out the backdoor, grateful for a chance to collect myself and think. I sit on the stone bench by the garden, wrapping my arms around myself and casting a warming charm to battle the March chill. A few minutes pass by in peaceful silence before I see Draco’s patronus – a large, opalescent dragon – flying away from the property. I watch it until it disappears, shocked at how big it is and wondering what kind of dragon it is.
As I sit, I try to compartmentalize what happened today. The brunch was lovely, up until Pansy came in and dropped the news of the enchantment. But now that my anger has subsided, I’m left wondering how she knew. And then thinking even further, wondering why Draco has unregistered wands. He works as an Auror, and he’s very good at his job based on everything I’ve heard throughout the years, but are the unregistered wands just recovered from missions? I’ve never heard Harry mention anything about it, but we’re not exactly close, and maybe it’s something they’re not supposed to tell people about.
Theo works closely with the Aurors since he deals with cursed objects found in the field and with coming up with new defensive spells and strategies for the teams. Was Theo the one who found out about the enchantments? And if it was him, why didn’t he come to me or Draco first? If Draco’s expression of shock is anything to go by, he didn’t know about it either, unless he just happens to be a phenomenal actor.
And if it wasn’t Theo, then who would’ve told Pansy? It’s not like she has a lot of friends outside of our small friend group, she’s very open about her feelings and has no filter for her facial expressions either. If she doesn’t like someone, you can usually see it before she vocalizes it.
The backdoor opens, and Draco pokes his head out, giving me a tentative smile. “Hey, baby, Blaise and Theo are here. Our contract was delivered, and the Curse Breakers are here. I thought you might want to be present for it,” he says softly.
I shiver at the casual way he called me baby, feeling my cheeks warm again and dropping my gaze to my feet as I stand. “Yes, thank you.”
As I approach, Draco opens the door wider and I squeeze in past him, my shoulder brushing his chest. He hums, but doesn’t say anything else. His hand rests comfortably on my lower back as he guides me to the cleaned up living room, and I let him because I know it’s part of his upbringing. Blaise and Theo do the same thing, which offended me at first until Pansy and Astoria had gone on and on about etiquette classes they took when they were mere toddlers and well into their teenage years. Then I just felt bad that what I find to be pretentious and over the top behaviors, are as second nature to them as covering their mouth when they sneeze or saying thank you. While I had etiquette classes growing up, it wasn’t nearly as extensive as theirs.
Kingsley is sitting on one side of the room with a curly haired man I don’t recognize, both talking quietly amongst themselves as they motion to the contract sitting on the coffee table. Blaise is standing just beside him, arms crossed, face devoid of emotion. Theo is in the corner by the front door talking to a beautiful blonde witch, nodding along to whatever she’s saying. When he spots me and Draco entering, he gives me a smile and a wink, causing the witch to look over her shoulder.
Daphne Greengrass.
Astoria’s older sister, who became a curse breaker when she was fresh out of Hogwarts to find a way to break the family curse that was affecting Astoria and would’ve eventually killed her. After a year of hard work, lots of research and traveling, she’d found a way to save her sister. Now, she’s one of the best Curse Breakers in all of Wizarding London with her own private practice.
She looks me up and down, scowling slightly before turning back to Theo and resuming their conversation. As polite as always, it seems. Her and I, for one reason or another, have never seemed to get on quite well.
“Alright, so Peter here is going to remove the enchantment and then I suppose you can have Miss Greengrass look it over,” Kingsley says begrudgingly.
“Lovely,” Daphne says, shooting him a devilish smile and stepping closer to where the contract lies.
For the next twenty minutes, we watch as the enchantments are broken down. Thankfully Peter explains everything as he works, and Daphne asks questions and has him make adjustments until our contract is free of any lust enchantments or anything else that could affect our behaviors. The only enchantments remaining are the same as everyone else’s: one that automatically updates the Ministry’s records to show if and when we’ve consummated the marriage, an enchantment that’ll alert the Ministry if a contraceptive charm or potion has been taken, one to ensure that we are both living in the same residence, and the enchantment promoting fertility.
I can feel the exact moment that the enchantment is broken; my body going cold and feeling faint to the point that I stumble to grip the back of the couch. Draco's hands are immediately on my waist, steadying me, and I try to focus my vision as the room spins and all the heat in my body disappears at once. And just as quickly as it came on, my body then starts to relax, the shivers subside to nothing and I feel tingly as my body temperature returns to normal. Distantly, I can hear Draco talking, but I don't understand anything while my heart is beating loudly in my ears and I look up to find him looking angry as he talks to someone across the room.
He's beautiful. He's always been beautiful. But I no longer feel like jumping his bones and my skin doesn't feel hot from his contact.
I exhale a sigh of relief, and a small laugh bubbles out of me as the conversation tunes back in.
“I swear to Salazar, if she's hurt, I will curse everyone in this room to rot from the inside out,” Draco is threatening, his thumbs rubbing circles on my waist as he talks.
“I'm fine, you can stop threatening everyone,” I murmur.
His eyes soften as he looks at me, his whole face showered in relief. “You're back,” he whispers.
“Never left,” I say softly, giving him a reassuring smile. Somehow, in the midst of the mess that was today, he is what has kept me strong and somewhat put together.
If someone had told me growing up that I'd trust Draco Malfoy, I would've laughed. Then again, I never thought my best friends would consist entirely of Slytherins.
He chuckles softly, flashing a lopsided grin before turning back to Kingsley, who immediately starts talking now that he has both of our attention. “Okay, so before anyone leaves here today, you will all need to sign some nondisclosure agreements regarding everything that happened with the Malfoy's contract.”
Of course.
Theo chuckles darkly, rubbing his jaw and shaking his head. “Nobody here is signing shit, Minister.”
“Shall I remind you that you all work for me?” Kingsley threatens, glaring at everyone in turn.
Daphne – standing right next to Draco – laughs sarcastically. “I work for myself, thank you very much.”
Draco clears his throat, stepping around the couch and coffee table until he's standing in front of Kingsley, towering over the man who shrinks under Draco's glare. I can't see Draco's face, but if his tone is anything to go by, he's beyond angry and there's no chance of disagreeing or arguing with him. Theo is beaming beside the Minister, his arms crossed as he takes in what’s happening in front of him. Blaise is more subtle with his enjoyment, smirking slightly as he listens to Draco, his arms crossed with the tip of his arm sticking out from his shirt sleeve and pointed directly at the Minister’s side.
“You will not get a signature out of anyone here. You fucked up, you deal with it. From now on, whether this information gets out depends on what my wife wants. If she wants to keep this between us, then you'll owe her your life and your career. If she wants to go public with this, I will help her bury you. Do you understand?”
Kingsley sputters something I don't understand, but it seems to please Draco and he walks away, taking slow strides to my side. “So what will it be, Mrs.Malfoy?” Draco asks softly, his eyes nearly black as he takes me in, his head tilted to the side.
I look around, noticing everyone is waiting. Theo and Blaise are on either side of the Minister, both with their arms crossed over their chests. Theo shoots me a wink, and Blaise gives me an encouraging nod. Daphne's squinting slightly at me, and Peter just looks uncomfortable to be involved.
Having already made my decision while I was waiting outside, I meet Kingsley's eyes and speak as clearly as I can. I'm grateful when my voice doesn't waver or crack.
“From now on, you do not even think about interfering in my life. I am not your friend, I am not your daughter, I am not your puppet or your pawn, and I am not your colleague. From now on, I am your enemy, and you will do well to remember that. Because I will bring you down, no matter what it takes. This law? It won't stick. You will regret ever crossing me by the time I'm done. I will ruin your career, your reputation, and your personal life. You, Kingsley Shacklebolt, will come to wish I had died in the Battle of Hogwarts.” I take a breath, clasping my hands in front of me. “What happened here will stay between us…for now. If you threaten anyone in this room, or go after them in any way, I will go to Rita Skeeter and tell her everything, and you know how much she likes to embellish things.”
His jaw is clenched tightly by the time I'm done speaking, his dark eyes glaring at me and his fists clenched at his sides. He looks around the room, seeming to get angrier when he notices that nobody is going to help him right now.
Exhaling in relief, I take the two steps that keep Draco and I separated, lacing my fingers through his. “I'm ready to go home, Mr.Malfoy.”
Draco gives my hand a light squeeze, and we walk out of the house hand in hand, followed closely by Blaise and Theo to the apparition point.
Chapter 15: Was There A Moment?
Chapter Text
When we land at the apparition point, I immediately spin in Draco’s arms and throw myself against him. My arms wrap around his tapered, muscular waist and I nuzzle my face into his chest, hugging him tightly. He stands with his arms spread for a few seconds before hesitantly wrapping them around me, and even then he feels like he's not quite sure, so I squeeze him a little tighter, which makes him tighten his grip too. He kisses the crown of my head and I smile, blushing.
As my heartbeat goes back to normal and the rush from confronting Kingsley dissipates, I realize we've probably been standing – hugging – for too long. I look up slowly, to find his eyes are already on me, meeting mine as soon as I lift my head.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I drop my arms from around his waist, but keep my body close to his, enjoying the subtle intimacy in the way his hands rest on my hips, his thumbs brushing circles over my hip bone. “Thank you for having my back today.”
He smiles, dipping his head and kissing my forehead, keeping his lips close as he speaks so his words caress my skin. “I'll always have your back, darling.”
I roll my eyes, scoffing lightly. “I told you not to call me that.”
“Okay, Mrs.Malfoy,” he says, and I can hear the smirk in his tone. “You were magnificent today, by the way.”
Something about the way he says it makes me look up, my brows furrowing as I try to label what I'm feeling. I feel a squeeze in my chest, a sharp ache at his words, but his words weren't hurtful. And I realize when his eyes continue to hold mine, his hands still on my waist, and feeling his chest moving against mine every time he takes a breath that…that I've missed affection like this.
I've missed being held by someone who wasn't just a friend, I've missed being held by someone I could trust. I've missed going on dates, and being in a relationship where I felt safe . I've missed knowing that no matter what, I have a partner, someone who would have my back and someone who's back I would have no matter what.
When I went to confront Kingsley, I didn’t even stop to consider that Draco would have my back. I thought it was something I had to do on my own, because for the past few years, that’s what I’ve been doing. And if I’m honest, it’s what I had done when I was in school too. I always had Harry and Ron’s backs, but when I had a problem and brought it up with them, they’d brush it off or go with their trusty line of “so what are you going to do?”
And so it never occurred to me to ask Draco for help, or even Pansy. I never considered that he would be on my side, willing to fight battles by my side, helping me feel secure, giving me the power in a situation where I was ready to crumble and just accept defeat. Because I had gone there running on my feelings of anger and hurt and humiliation, but Kingsley was the Minister and I knew I couldn’t do anything.
Yet, when Draco showed up, it was like he sent his confidence and bravado to me. He helped me keep my back straight, my chin up, and calmed my nerves. With him there, I knew I was safe. And when I started to feel overwhelmed, he recognized it and gave me a safe place to collect myself while making sure Kingsley wouldn’t disappear or call for Aurors to arrest me for hexing him.
Draco had my back and I didn’t even have a conversation with him beforehand. He followed me without me having to ask, and he helped me without taking charge of the situation.
“What are you thinking?” Draco whispers, one of his hands moving up to cup my cheek.
I inhale, shaking my head, tilting my head back to see him better. He’s so tall; my head just barely reaches the top of his shoulder. I look at his eyes, dilated to the point that the silver is partly obscured, but also noticing the specks of blue and green in them now that we're so close and I don't feel like curling in on myself in fear. I notice the scar by his eyebrow. I notice how full and soft his lips look. I notice the pink tint on his cheeks and the top of his nose from the cold.
I lift my hand to his shoulders, my gaze dropping to his lips. I still remember how soft and full they are. How good they felt moving against my own. The surprising feel of how his pierced tongue felt when it brushed mine, the cold metal sending a surprising jolt of pleasure that made me gasp.
“Hermione,” he whispers, his voice rough and pleading, leaning forward the smallest amount. His hand slides to the small of my back, his fingers spread wide as he holds me closer to his chest.
When I nod, our noses brush together and I tilt my head to the side, burrowing my cheek deeper into his palm. His hand slides down my cheek a little, curling around my neck gently, his thumb tracing circles over my pulse. I’m hyperaware of the movement, but not in the way that makes me want to scream. No, this makes me want to give all control to him, to let him make me feel good and wanted and cared for. I want his hands to trail my body, his lips to tease me and kiss me and talk me through pleasure. It has been so long since I’ve felt good.
I want to let him in.
My lips part, and my eyes drift closed. I feel his breath on my lips, minty and cool. His lips make contact with mine and I shiver into him, gasping into his lips just as they close over mine.
“Whoo! That was bloody amazing, did you see that? Our little lion cub had the Minister shaking!” Theo exclaims.
I jump away from Draco, blushing furiously and looking at the ground, arms wrapped around myself.
A smacking sound, followed by “Ow, what the fuck, Blaise?” And I look up to find Theo rubbing his arm.
Blaise gives him a pointed look, and Theo looks at us for what must be the first time. He breaks out into a wide smile, crossing his arms and holding his chin in his hand. “What's going on here, Malfoy's ?”
Daphne, standing beside Blaise, looks between Draco and I, her gaze hard and her arms crossing tightly across her chest. She sneers, and I brace myself for what she could possibly have to say now. “Obviously nothing, Theo. Or did you forget how your dear Gryffindor was so upset about the enchantments Kingsley cast? Obviously , she wouldn't be throwing herself at Draco so soon,” she says sharply.
“Daphne,” Draco and Blaise snap in unison.
I bite my lip, nodding. “Right, obviously.” I turn my back on the three new arrivals, looking at Draco and lowering my voice. “I'm a bit tired. Is it okay if I see you for dinner? I might go rest for a bit.”
Draco straightens, nodding. “Of course, let me walk you back.”
I shake my head, taking a step away from him. “I'm okay, thank you. I'll see you later.”
I turn my back and speed walk down to the house, ignoring Theo’s snicker and what sounds like him being hit again. Once inside, I rush to my room, locking myself in before Pansy or Narcissa see me, and cast a silencing charm around my room. Tossing my wand onto the bedside table, I flip face down onto the bed, sighing.
***
I stare after Hermione, wanting to follow her and kiss her senseless, but also not wanting to push her when it seems we’re making progress. I can distantly hear the three idiots I call friends arguing amongst themselves, and I desperately want to hex them all.
“Wait, was there a moment?” Theo asked, raising his brows suggestively.
I glare at him, my jaw clenched tightly, fists balled up at my sides. “You know you didn’t have to follow us home, right?”
Theo shrugs. “I didn’t have anything else to do, my wife is working.”
“Well that’s not really my problem, is it, Nott?” I snap, shaking my head and making my way to the Manor. “Go home, all of you.”
“Actually, Draco, I need to speak with you regarding today,” Daphne says, following me.
Well fuck me.
“Just send the bill by owl, you’ll get your money,” I say, hoping she’ll just go home.
Theo and Blaise apparate away, and I hurry my steps to get inside faster. With any hope, we’ll run into Pansy or my Mother in the foyer and I won’t have to be alone with Daphne.
“It’s not that, I just wanted to go over some details on your contract,” Daphne insisted.
I stop in the foyer, studying her. She stands confidently, jutting her hip to the side and inspecting her nails, clearly waiting for me to show her to the office. I sigh, relenting with an internal groan, and walk to the office downstairs, keeping my distance from her as she walks a few steps behind me. Once inside, I motion for her to sit, and once she’s seated I walk to my own chair behind the desk, purposefully leaving the door open. The last thing I need is Hermione thinking there’s something going on between Daphne and I.
“Let’s make this quick, I have other business to attend to,” I say, adjusting my cufflinks and pulling the shrunken contract from my pocket and restoring it to its full size. Quietly, I make a copy, get it rolled up, and have it sent to Hermione’s room, knowing she’s going to want to have her own copy.
When Daphne still doesn’t speak, I look at her, raising a brow. “Well?”
She sighs, scrunching her brows together and pursing her lips before speaking. “I got matched with Cormac McLaggen,” she says quickly. “I know Pansy did a swap, and I’ve read through the contracts. You and Granger haven’t consummated, which makes you eligible for a switch as long as it’s done quietly and we marry within forty-eight hours of your divorce. Cormac and I agreed that we’d be better suited with other people, and he said he’d love to take Granger off your hands since he’s apparently fancied her since they were in school. I know you and I didn’t work in the past, but it could be different now. And even if it isn’t, it’s just sex. Consummating won’t be an issue between us, and we’re bound to get pregnant right away. We’ll follow the traditional paths when it comes to raising whatever children we have.”
I stare at her in disbelief, my jaw clenched so tightly I’m shocked it doesn’t lock.
“Narcissa would love a pureblood grandchild, and I know she wants to keep her status in society. Draco, it could be so easy if you and I get married. Please, I am begging you–”
I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “No, Greengrass, I will not marry you. Save your begging for someone else."
“You’d rather stay married to a mud–”
“Finish that word and I will make sure it’s the last time you ever speak again,” I snap, pointing my wand at her. “If you cannot respect my wife, you will not speak of her. We’re done here.”
I stand, adjusting my shirt and walking around her. Before I’ve even made it past her chair, she’s standing in my way, her chest pressed to my own and her hands grasping my shoulders. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it. Draco, please, please, just think about it.”
I step back, grabbing her hands and lowering them. “There’s nothing to think about. I am happy with my circumstances.”
She scoffs, her expression shifting to the familiar sneer she gives anyone she deems inferior. “You can’t be serious. You’re
happy
with your circumstances with her?
If
you were happy with her, you would’ve consummated your marriage already.
If
you were happy with her, Shacklebolt wouldn’t have found it necessary to place such a ridiculous enchantment on you two.
If
you were happy with her, you would’ve let your Mother plan a wedding for her only son.”
I clench my jaw, looking past her to the doorway.
“Unless, it’s her who’s not happy. Maybe I should just go to her with my offer. I doubt London’s Golden Girl wants to be stuck with a Death Eater. Maybe she’s the one holding out on consummating the marriage, waiting for something better than you to come along.”
I growl, stepping closer and towering over her. “The answer is no. I will not marry you. Even if Hermione chooses to marry someone else, I would rather be matched to a stranger or remain unmarried than ever marry you. However, let me save you the trouble. She's going to say no to McLaggen if he approaches her after what happened during sixth year. If he needs a reminder to stay away from her, tell him I'm available for a discussion . Now get out of my house. Send the bill to my solicitors, and they’ll take care of it. I don’t want to see you near my home again, and this will be the last time we conduct any business together.”
“Are you serious?” she screeches.
I walk past her, out the door and head to the doors leading to the back of the house where the gardens are – my Mother's favorite place in the house. “Get out of my house, Greengrass.”
When I make it to the Gardens, I spot Missy and Narcissa tending to flowers. My mother has changed from her dress robes and into some overalls and a T-shirt, her pale skin exposed in a rare occasion. She's pulled her hair into a bun, and her gloved hands move carefully over the flowers as she talks with Missy. Pansy is sitting in one of the garden benches, reading through one of her files from the Ministry.
“The issue has been handled,” I announce.
Pansy and my Mother look up, both taking in my appearance and looking behind me.
“What did you do?” Pansy asks, closing her file and setting it beside her. She crosses one knee over the other, placing her elbow on it and resting her chin on her hand as she waits.
“Actually,” I start, waiting for my Mother to sit with Pansy before continuing so I don't have to split my attention between them. “Hermione handled it beautifully.”
“Hermione?” Narcissa asks, her head tilted to the side.
“She got him to remove the enchantment,” I say, wondering how much I should or shouldn't say. Hermione had said a lot today, and I could guess that even just me hearing it probably put her on edge. I don't want her to feel like I'm going to betray her trust, so I decide to keep the events to myself. “They had a.. discussion..and she convinced him to remove the enchantment.”
Pansy snorts, shaking her head. “You mean she threatened him?”
I shrug, raising my brows in a ‘what if she did’ motion.
Narcissa looks proud, much prouder than she should be considering now we're going to be watched closely by the Ministry for any screwups that Shacklebolt can use against us as blackmail, should Hermione wish to act against him.
“Well, that's wonderful news,” Narcissa says, clapping her hands together in her lap. “I did want to speak with you about her parents though, Draco. Could we schedule a time for Monday? I need to gather some information, and I need you to gather some as well,” she says as she pulls a piece of folded parchment from the pocket of her overalls. She holds it out to me and I open it, glancing at the contents, sighing.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I admit.
Pansy looks between Narcissa and I with a deep frown. “What?”
“Go check on Hermione,” I offer. “I have somewhere to go. Will you let her know I will be back in time for dinner?”
Two weeks pass by in a flash. A few days after confronting Kingsley, Draco helped me hire private investigators to keep tabs on Kingsley. Now that he knew I wanted Kingsley out of his career, he was also gathering information on everyone available who could take over and I had the office in our shared office where we sat and discussed possible options a few times. Now that he knew of my parents' situation, he also seemed invested in securing their safety – something that came as a shock since it wasn't like he needed to suck up to them. In the end, I agreed to let him have a private investigator nearby to keep an eye on any activity that seemed suspicious, should Kingsley (or more like Ron, not that he knew about it) decide to use them to threaten us.
Every morning, we have breakfast together. I’m not much of a morning person, so it’s usually a quiet affair, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He always has coffee ready by the time I make it into the dining room, somehow knowing I prefer coffee to tea. He reads the Daily Prophet, I read whatever book I’ve borrowed from his library. He always works out after breakfast, and I usually busy myself cleaning up the dining room with Millie, even though she insists I don’t need to help, but I enjoy spending time with her too. I’ve always enjoyed the focus that baking requires, and I try to make something new every other day to keep myself busy since I don’t have work for another two weeks. When Draco is done with his workout and comes to the dining room freshly showered, I always convince him to try whatever I’ve made and eagerly watch him sample what I’ve made. So far, he’s loved the blueberry cheesecake, chocolate peanut butter cupcakes, and the strawberry scones I’ve made the most.
Twice a week, Narcissa joins us for lunch – along with our Saturday brunch – and it feels so easy and peaceful when she is around. Her maternal love seemed to spread to me when I was around, and it was very hard most of the time to remind myself this was only temporary. Because if things went how I wanted them to go, Kingsley would leave his job as Minister and take the Marriage Law with him.
For dinner though, it’s always just Draco and I. He’s polite and sweet, a total gentleman. He always waits in the sitting room between our rooms, and when I walk out, he always offers me his arm. While we walk to the dining room, he always finds something to compliment, seemingly determined to make me blush at least once. Dinner is usually full of us sharing stories of our childhood, or answering questions the other may have. After dinner, we always have an activity to do just between us, be it boardgames or watching a movie, until well into the night. And – probably my favorite thing about every night – at the end of the night, he walks me to my bedroom door, holding my hand and then he brings it to his lips and kisses it before bidding me a goodnight and waiting until I’m inside my room before he retreats to his own bedroom. It feels like dating, and it’s exhilarating and always gives me the butterflies because he’s so surprisingly sweet and tender.
On Friday nights, we still met up with the rest of our friends. Blaise and Astoria had set a date for their wedding, and Astoria asked me to be one of her bridesmaids along with Pansy. Blaise had asked Theo to be his best man, and Draco was a groomsman. The date was to take place in two months, telling us it’s the date the Ministry gave them since they were booked full with the upcoming weddings of all the matches and were scheduling people based on who the “flights risks” were first.
Pansy and Charlie had walked in, shocking everyone with the news that they were married, having skipped having a wedding and just signing the paperwork the Monday after they had agreed to the swap. She also proudly announced they'd already consummated, giving Draco and I a pointed look that had my face burning in embarrassment. Now that they were married, Charlie had accepted a position at Hogwarts teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Luna and Theo were all over each other every time we saw them, so it came as no surprise when they called us all to Theo's estate one Tuesday evening and we walked into an impromptu wedding. Luna was stunning in a beautiful white gown, flowers braided into her hair, and a bouquet of wildflowers. Everyone got too drunk that night, and we all ended up spending the night at Nott Manor, spread around the living room on multiple pieces of furniture. Draco and I had fallen asleep on a footrest he'd transfigured into a plush mattress near the fireplace, with me snuggled into his chest.
Needless to say, it was two very eventful two weeks.
Now, nearing the end of week three, Draco and I are preparing snacks and drinks for our movie, moving in sync throughout the kitchen. It feels almost like a dance, the way we move without touching the other, grabbing what we need and exchanging small smiles when our eyes meet.
“Are you excited about charades tomorrow?” I ask casually, leaning against the counter as I watch Draco pour popcorn into a large bowl.
He smirks at me, winking. “I'm ready to win, baby.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Maybe you shouldn't be so cocky, it didn't seem to help last time for Just Dance.”
He rolls his eyes, laughing. “That's because Theo can dance better as a woman, whereas I–”
“Can't move your hips without moving the entirety of your body? I mean seriously, your arms were flinging around like an octopus in distress.”
He throws a piece of popcorn at me, his smile dimpling his cheeks. “You are ruthless, woman.”
I giggle, easily summoning the piece of popcorn he threw at me and then using my wand to multiply it and tossing a handful at him. He raises a brow at me, crossing his arms.
“Are you sure you want to start this war, love? Because I have a lot of practice with food wars, and I'd hate to see you lose,” he teases.
I give him a challenging look back, pointing my wand at the popcorn bowl and having it levitate over his head, dumping the entire bowl on his head. “Looks like the one losing is you, Mr.Malfoy.”
He bites his lip, nodding and taking a step towards me. Popcorn crunches under his bare feet, and his next move is so fast I lose my footing as he lunges at me, arms outstretched and wrapping around my waist. He gently lowers me to the ground, hovering over me, and then he tickles my sides.
I shriek, laughing and giggling as I try to find a way out through the laughter that has my back arching off the floor and my legs flailing beneath him. He laughs with me, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“I thought this was a food war!” I gasp between bouts of laughter, trying helplessly to get his hands away from me.
“I have to weaken my opponent,” he says smugly.
“That's cheating!” I cry, trying to twist beneath him and buck him off.
Just when I think I'm going to die laughing, his hands stop moving, resting on my sides gently and he looks down at me with a small smile still spread on his lips. I pant beneath him, overly aware of how loud and fast my breaths are coming, and knowing my hair is probably a mess and my skin is probably red from laughing.
“What?” I ask softly, nervous at the way he's watching me so intently.
“You're beautiful,” he murmurs.
I roll my eyes, looking away from his face and towards the cabinets. “You don't have to compliment me, you know. Just because we're married doesn't mean I expect you to suddenly see me in a different light.”
He grabs my chin between two fingers, turning my face to look back at him. He's holding himself up on one arm, one knee between my legs. One of my legs is curled up around his waist lightly, and I lower it slowly.
“I thought you were beautiful long before you were my wife,” he murmurs, his eyes steady on mine.
I roll my eyes, scooting back away from him until I can sit with my back against the cabinet. Popcorn is splattered around the floor, and it crunches as Draco straightens and sits across from me, his legs open on either side of me.
“I mean it. I've always thought you were beautiful. Even when your hair was a frizzy, gigantic mess trying to hide your face from the rest of the world.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Right, that's why you were so mean? You thought I was pretty? I'm not stupid, I'm not going to fall for that whole ‘the meaner boys are, the more they like you’ crap. You were cruel.”
He sighs, nodding. He looks embarrassed, and I shift nervously because I didn't ever expect to have this conversation with him. I'd been enjoying the last few weeks with him, and now I may have ruined it.
“Hermione, I wasn't cruel because I hated you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you on the train. You moved with so much confidence, barging into compartments and asking everyone about some missing toad. You were new to our world, nobody knew you, but you were so confident and sure of yourself. I told Nott that you'd be in Slytherin and I'd get you in our group, show you the ropes. I was angry when you were sorted into Gryffindor, like the world wanted us on opposite sides. Everyone knows of the long-standing animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor. I still wanted to try and be your friend, I was desperate to know you. I roped Nott and Zabini into it, hoping that with enough Slytherins wanting to be your friends, you wouldn’t be opposed to it. Of course, you decided to befriend Potter and Weasley and kind of ruined my plans,” he says with a sad smile. “They hated me, and then so did you.”
I lower my gaze, fidgeting with the bottom of my shirt. “I didn’t hate you,” I whisper. “I just didn’t trust you.”
“I made the mistake of telling my Father that I thought you were pretty,” he says quietly.
I look up, frowning.
“He had come to visit during first year, and I told him I was confused because Muggleborns weren’t dirty or ugly or deformed like I’d been told growing up. He was…disappointed, to say the least. Said I was getting brainwashed at Hogwarts, and even considered sending me to Durmstrang. Mother convinced him otherwise, but for a while he was pretty determined on it. He told me I could stay as long as the family ideals weren’t threatened, and made me swear to keep my distance from you.”
I stare at him, my eyes stinging. “I didn’t know you wanted to be my friend,” I murmur, my voice cracking in the end.
He gives me a sad smile, his foot bumping against my thigh teasingly. “You were the smartest, prettiest girl at that school. Why do you think I studied so hard? I wanted you to notice me for something other than my good looks,” he says with a wink, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
I roll my eyes, shaking my head and sniffling. “You would’ve been a great study partner,” I admit. “I enjoyed feeling like we were competing for the best marks.”
He beams, grinning. “So you did notice me?”
“You were pretty hard to ignore,” I admit.
“I knew my good looks drew you in,” he teases.
“Mmm, I think it had more to do with your whining,” I tease back with a giggle. “Or the ungodly amount of hair products you used, I mean seriously, you alone could’ve kept them in business.”
He raises a brow. “Are you sure you want to tease me, woman? I know your weakness,” he says, wiggling his fingers and reaching forward.
I scoot away, shaking my head. “No, no, no, I take it back!”
He smiles, leaning back and I relax against the cabinet. We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, both us just watching the other.
I catalogue the way his chest moves when he breathes. The way his hair looks at the end of the day, tousled but not overly messy even though some strands hang over his face. I take in how you can tell he’s messing with his tongue piercing in his mouth, how his jaw moves. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his feet bare, looking comfortable and casual in a way that’s become familiar to me. I study the veins in his arms, barely noticeable through his tattoos. I look at him, taking my time, not worried if he catches me watching him because I know he’s watching me too.
“Should we go watch the movie or do you want to read for the rest of the night?” Draco asks quietly, his voice like a caress making me shiver.
I nod, biting my lip. “We can read,” I whisper, afraid to speak too loud and ruin the peacefulness of the moment.
He nods, standing slowly and offering me his hand. I take it and he pulls me to my feet with ease, his other hand coming up to encircle my waist. I step closer to him, leaning my forehead against his chest.
“I am sorry about our past,” Draco whispers against the top of my head. “I hate what I called you. I hated making you cry, I regret making you hurt. I should’ve apologized years ago. Fuck, I never should’ve said the things I did. I should’ve been your friend, I should’ve protected you. You deserve so much better than what life dealt you.”
I look at him, meeting his eyes. He looks torn with guilt and sadness and regret. His silver eyes are swirling with unshed tears, the blue and gold in his eyes sparkling.
I bring my hands up to either side of his face, pulling his face down gently until our foreheads are touching. “I would do it all again if it got me here,” I whisper. “I like the man you are, Draco.”
***
We end up reading in the library for a few hours, sitting quietly together on the loveseat. We sit on opposite ends, my legs resting on his lap and he caresses my legs while he reads. I find it hard to focus, reading the same page multiple times, feeling his eyes on me the entire night.
When I yawn a third time, Draco gently slides my legs off his lap and stands, offering me his hand with a smile; the same way he does every night when he walks me to my room. I take it and stand, setting my book on the side table and letting him lead me upstairs to our rooms. When we stop at my door, I turn to face him, blushing and smiling. He kisses the top of my hand, his eyes holding mine as he bows over it and presses his lips to it, holding the kiss for a few seconds before releasing my hand.
“Goodnight, love,” he murmurs when he straightens. He brushes a curl behind my ear.
“Goodnight, Draco,” I murmur back.
He smiles, takes a step back and turns to head to his room.
“Would you like to stay with me tonight?” I blurt out, blushing furiously at my outburst. “I mean, obviously you don’t have to, but I thought maybe we could try and just sleep together.”
He turns slowly, his cheeks tinted pink. “I would love that, actually.”
I nod, exhaling in relief. “Just to sleep?”
He nods, biting his lip against his smile. “Yes, just to sleep.”
I nod and open the door, walking backwards into the room and watching him as he follows with slow steps. His eyes scan the room as if he’s never been here before, and I close the door once we’re both in the room, hesitating.
The room feels hotter, smaller, with him in the room. He’s so tall, and for a minute I wonder if he’s going to fit on the bed or if his feet are going to hang off the bed. I shake my head before I spiral and walk to the side of the bed I’ve been sleeping on since getting here, furthest from the door and closer to the window I like to look out of every morning when I wake up.
He stands beside the bed, watching me, his hands in his pockets. “I usually sleep shirtless, but I can leave it on if it makes you more comfortable.”
I shake my head, feeling my blush creep down to my chest. “No, you should take it off. I mean, sleep more comfortably, obviously.”
He nods, and I spot the blush on his cheeks too. He turns his back to me, pulling his shirt over his head and folding it neatly before setting it on my vanity. I turn off the lights, leaving just a candle lit on the dresser for light and crawl under the covers, laying down and waiting for Draco to come to bed.
He’s my husband, I remind myself. Couples share beds all the time, it doesn’t mean we have to have sex. We’re just building trust.
We haven't kissed since our wedding, and we haven't had another near kiss since that day I confronted Kingsley, but I'm so tempted tonight. I just don't know if I'm ready to let myself get that close yet, don't know if I'm ready to trust him not to hurt me that way. So, for tonight, sharing a bed with him is enough. I'm pushing my comfort zone, letting him in and near when I'm most vulnerable. Allowing myself the comfort of another person in my bed, sharing my space and knowing he won't hurt me. Enjoying the simple intimacy in what's probably a small thing in his eyes but means so much more to me. I haven't shared a bed with anyone since Ron. Draco has only slept with me twice: once on his loveseat after our wedding, and once on a transfigured ottoman at Theo's estate. A bed feels so much more different.
He slips into bed slowly, keeping a safe distance from me. The bed dips under his weight, and I immediately feel the warmth radiating off his body, urging me closer, but I fight the urge to tangle myself up against his body.
“Goodnight, Draco,” I whisper, turning on my side to face him, a good foot between us.
He turns on his side, his eyes finding mine and he smiles. “Goodnight, Hermione.”
Chapter 16: Confessions
Notes:
Speeding things up a bit in this chapter! I hope you guys enjoy!
Thank you for all the love on the previous chapter, it means the world to me even if I don't always know what to say.
Chapter Text
My eyes open and for a minute I’m jarred by the unfamiliar setting and the weight on my chest. I look down and am almost suffocated by a mouthful of wild, tangled curls.
I smile.
Hermione is draped across my chest, her right hand resting lightly on my chest right over my heart and I will it to beat normally instead of at the frantic pace it’s currently beating at. She has one hand tucked under her chin, her brows are slightly furrowed as she sleeps, and she’s got one of her legs wrapped around mine as if she’s worried I’m going to slip out of bed without telling her.
I spend so long watching her face and taking in the way she feels on my chest, that it takes me too long to notice the marks on her right forearm.
Mudblood .
The word my psychotic aunt carved into her, except hers looks nothing like Luna’s cuts looked from the same dagger. Her scar looks nothing like what mine looked like when I was under the same dagger.
No, instead hers look like it’s infected and fresh. It looks like it happened mere hours ago, which is insane because it’s been over three years since that night. And yet, the veins surrounding the word are black and you can see the dark magic shift beneath her skin. I trace my finger lightly over it, deep in concentration as I take in how inflamed it feels, the excess warmth, the coloring. Grabbing my wand off the side table, I cast a quiet diagnostic charm on the mark, studying it quickly before making it disappear when I feel her shift. I make a split second decision and cast a glamour charm for her, knowing she'll probably not want me to see it.
Later, I'll review everything in my pensieve and take extensive notes so I can research the Malfoy and Black family libraries in Malfoy Manor. Now I have two projects to work on, both of equal priority when it comes to her. Because she doesn’t deserve to live with this ridiculous slur carved into her arm, nor the constant reminder of that night.
“Mmm,” Hermione moans sleepily, her legs stretching out and her fingers rising to curl over my shoulder. She nuzzles in like a kitten and I chuckle, kissing the top of her wild curls.
“Good morning, love,” I murmur against the top of her head.
She stiffens against me, and I tense as I wait for her reaction.
Is she going to regret last night? I mean, it's not like we did anything other than sleep, but I can tell it was a big step for her to take. In the early morning hours I felt her stiffen and a whimper escaped her, and I tried to wake her but she just scooted closer and wrapped herself around me. She seemed to calm down when I wrapped my arm around her, rubbing her back, and eventually I went to sleep too.
It's been so long since I've shared a bed with anyone, that I don't know the protocol here, especially with Hermione. Was she expecting me to just leave? Is she going to kick me out? Do we pretend this didn't happen?
Slowly, I feel her relax against me again. She scoots away a bit and unwraps her leg from mine, but her hand slides down to rest on my chest again. When she looks up at me, her eyes are wide and her cheeks are flushed pink. My heart rate quickens under the weight of her stare, wondering what she's going to do.
“Good morning, Dra–Malfoy,” she corrects herself softly, shaking her head the slightest bit.
Internally, I sigh at the way she's so obviously trying to keep herself distanced from me. She hasn't called me by my name since our wedding, every other time she's referred to me by my last name, whether it's Malfoy or Mr.Malfoy. It feels impersonal, or like she’s trying to remind herself who my father is and the sins committed by those with my last name. And while I can’t blame her, especially after everything she went through, it’s depressing. I want her to see me, because I have changed.
Merlin, I’ve changed so much. I have become familiar with Muggle customs and respect them. I’ve not uttered the slur, nor even thought of saying it to anyone again. I’ve become an investor in Muggle businesses (anonymously of course) for the families of many of the fallen Muggleborn Hogwarts students, as a way to attempt to atone for my part in the war. I opened and fully funded an orphanage for the displaced children from the war, and I still run it with help from Astoria who always has new ideas for how to keep the children happier and more comfortable. My Mother and I even helped in repairs for Hogwarts, donating a large sum to cover expenses and to help get new supplies for the upcoming school year, even donating books from the Malfoy and Black libraries.
I’ve done all of this anonymously, choosing to make my penance in silence, not caring about anyone recognizing my actions. But now, married to her, I want to show her how much I’ve changed. I just don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to buy her affections, I don’t want to pressure her into loving me. I want her to want me because she sees the good in me without me having to point it out or provide her with proof.
“I was thinking,” she starts slowly, her fingers drawing a light pattern on my chest as she speaks. She watches her fingers moving against my tattooed skin, and I feel her fingers trace down one of the scars from when dear Potter cast Sectumsempra on me in sixth year, although it’s covered by all the ink of my tattoos. She furrows her brow, but doesn’t ask.
“Well, I was wondering if..well, there’s this gala coming up, for–for the Battle of Hogwarts.” She sits up slowly, scooting until she’s sitting with her back against the headboard, her hands fidgeting with the sheets. “Well I’m supposed to attend, it’s kind of a big thing, and I don’t know if you usually go, but…well I was thinking since we’re married and…” she groans, throwing her head back and closing her eyes.
I watch her, amused at her lack of words. “Oh come on, love, where’s that Gryffindor bravery?” I tease lightly, leaning up onto my elbow and gazing at her.
She looks at me, cheeks flushed and biting her lip. “You’re terrible, you know that?”
“Mhm, Slytherin through and through,” I murmur with a wink.
She nods, her eyes dropping to my lips momentarily before she looks into my eyes again. “I was wondering if you’d go with me to the gala?”
I smile, reaching forward and grabbing her hand. Slowly, I bring it to my lips, kissing each of her knuckles and holding her gaze as I do so. She sits completely still, holding her breath, her eyes focused on my lips as I kiss her knuckles before kissing the wedding ring on her finger and intertwining my fingers through hers.
“I would accompany you anywhere,” I say softly. “When is it?”
“Next weekend,” she says sheepishly, looking down at our intertwined hands. “I know it’s last minute, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go but Pansy thought it might be a good opportunity to get some feelers on how others are feeling about Kingsley and the Marriage Mandate.”
I nod in understanding, having drawn the same conclusion myself. “Well, I will–”
“Okay, Granger, you better have a good reason for standing me up! I waited for an hour before deciding to track you down. We have a lot to do and ohsweetMerlin !” Pansy shrieks, dropping the tray of coffees she’d been holding. She looks between Hermione and I, a smirk replacing her look of terror. “Apologies, I had no idea you two were fucking now, I’ll just wait outside.” She throws a wink in my direction, before sauntering out of the room.
Hermione stands quickly, hissing when she steps into the puddle of spilt coffee on her way to follow Pansy out the door. She pokes her head out the door, calling after Pansy with her coffee drenched foot lifted behind her. “Pansy, we’re not doing that!”
“Whatever you say, Granger!” Pansy calls back, her voice sounding amused. “I’ll wait for you in the tea room, there’s more space there anyways. Twenty minutes, Granger! Malfoy, you too.”
Hermione closes the door, leaning against it and looking at me. “I forgot I had plans with her to look at gowns,” she explains, although I’d gathered that much already.
I nod, standing and adjusting myself in my pants with my back turned to her because she does not need to see that, since we are in fact not having sex. “I’m going to go get showered,” I say walking to her where she’s still leaning against the door. Smiling, I cast a silent cleanup charm to take care of the spilled coffee and her foot. “I’ll wait for you and we can confront the beast that is Stylist Parkinson together.”
She giggles, nodding, lowering her head. “Thank you, that would be perfect.”
I reach for her, grabbing her gently by the waist and tugging her away from the door. She looks up at me, hopeful and I lean forward, pressing my lips to her forehead. She plants her hands on my shoulders, sighing.
“See you soon,” I say with a smirk when I pull away, making note of the goosebumps visible on her arms and her flushed cheeks and chest. I wink at her, stepping out of her room and closing the door behind me.
***
I take a quick shower, mostly to be able to brush my hair with more ease and get it under control. My skin is still tingling from all the contact with Draco, and I find myself flustered every time I think about how I woke up pressed against him, tangled under the covers with him. Thankfully, when Pansy barged in she didn’t see that because then it would be much harder to convince her nothing happened, but I’m still mortified that she saw anything at all.
Yes, I shared a bed with Draco Malfoy, but we haven’t even kissed since our wedding day. The closest we’ve come to it is today when he kissed my forehead – and I had been completely convinced he was aiming for my lips, not my forehead, and was prepared to…reciprocate. For the first time in a long time, I got butterflies when he leaned in, and anticipation made my toes curl as I thought back to our kiss at the Ministry.
Thankfully, he agreed to be my date for the gala I was dreading to go to. Certainly going with him would be more entertaining than when I had tagged along with Harry and Ginny last year, or when I’d gone as Ron’s date in the past. Hopefully with Draco by my side, I won't have to worry about being alone with Ron or Harry, avoiding awkwardness and focusing on my goal for the night: gathering information and maybe spreading a few of Kingsley's shady doings over the years.
“Okay, try this one,” Pansy says, handing me another gown.
I've been trying on dresses for nearly an hour; Draco excused himself half an hour ago saying something about an important meeting.
I sigh, grabbing the rich red fabric and scrunching my nose at it. “Pans, this is too much, I'm going to stand out way too much.”
“That's kind of the point, although maybe we should throw all the reds out of the pile since we don't want you to look like a Gryffindor,” she grabs the dress from my hands and bustles to a rack of all the discarded dresses that she deemed ‘not enough’, summoning all the red dresses to the rack.
“I am a Gryffindor,” I remind her pointedly.
She sighs, turning to look at me with an expression of exasperation as if I’m a toddler she’s trying to explain a simple concept to. “Yes, we know, you’re the Gryffindor lion cub, but for this gala, you need to be more. You’ve put yourself – and Draco – in the line of fire with Minister Kingsley. And since both of you are in the line of fire, that means Theo and I are also in it, because you’re our friends and we won’t just sit around waiting for him to try to blow you up.”
I swallow, opening my mouth to speak, but she holds up a manicured hand to stop me.
“So, for this gala, you will not be a Gryffindor. You will be the wife of the most dangerous, rich, cunning, protective, and impulsive Death Eater. He is feared, not respected, but feared so people bend to his will and tend to be agreeable with him. By tying you to his image, you have guaranteed protection.” Pansy smirks, walking to a rack with silver and gold gowns, shuffling through them. “Your match with Draco will get you a lot of things, Hermione, you just need to learn how to play your cards.”
“He’s not a Death Eater,” I say, crossing to one of the racks and shuffling through mostly black dresses. The amount of gowns in this room could pay for my home a dozen times over and I would probably still have a fortune left. “I don’t know how to play this role, Pans.”
“So let Draco handle it,” Pansy says, walking over with three gowns and motioning for me to try them on.
I take them and shimmy out of my robe, pulling one of the silver gowns on as I ponder her words. “He’s done enough,” I say from behind the privacy curtain she set up. “I might be his wife, but it’s in name only. It’s not like either of us had a choice in the matter.”
“You seem to be the only one that’s thinking of this match as a punishment,” Pansy snaps. “He’s besotted with you, he told you how he felt. If him confessing his feelings after taking Veritaserum won’t convince you of his intentions, what will?”
I walk out from behind the curtain, and Pansy wrinkles her nose at the dress before shaking her head and waving me back behind the curtains. “I’m not thinking of it as a punishment, Pansy, and I told you about the Veritaserum in confidence, not for you to just throw around whenever you please. It’s strange; he’s different from what I remember. Like really, really different.”
I pull the next gown over, sighing at how soft the fabric feels against my skin. This one is elegant and richly detailed, made up of two main colors: a dark wine red, and a deep forest green that complement each other perfectly. The bodice is fitted with sheer fabric embroidered in gold with red accents that resemble veins and blooming flowers. It has an off the shoulder neckline, with wine red fabric that drapes over the arms lightly. The skirt is long and full, layered with sheer wine-red fabric over the green skirt, forming a dramatic train.
When I step out, Pansy smiles, a dreamy look crossing her features. “That’s it,” she whispers. “You look like a Gryffindor married to a Slytherin in that dress.”
I smile, blushing as I look at myself in the mirror. Despite my hair looking an absolute, frizzy mess, I look regal in this gown.
“Do you think Malfoy will like it?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Pansy stands behind me, raising a brow at me through the mirror. “Why would you care what his father thinks?” she asks sarcastically.
I glare at her through the mirror. “You know I meant Draco.”
“So call him Draco,” she says. She turns me to face her, her hands gripping my shoulders. “Look, I know you have this ridiculous tendency to keep people at arm’s length, but I wasn’t lying to you when I told you Draco is a good man. He actually, genuinely loves you, and he has for a long time, longer than he’s been willing to admit it.”
“How would you know? He doesn’t exactly seem like the guy to go around sharing his feelings with anyone, so I’m sorry if I’m finding it a little hard to believe that he would actually take Veritaserum and put himself in a position to be as vulnerable as he was. Besides, he’s an Occlumens, and a skilled one from what I’ve heard.”
“You want to know how I know? Fine, but remember that you asked for it. Let’s see,” she starts walking around the room, tilting her head up to the ceiling as she thinks.
I slowly sink into one of the fabric chairs in the room, fighting the urge to twist the fabric on the gown I’m still wearing. Dread and nerves gnaw on my stomach.
“Okay, let’s start with second year. My family and I went to visit him during the summer, and his dad wouldn’t let him come join us for meals because apparently Draco was being ‘taught a lesson’. When everyone was in bed, I snuck out looking for him, and with a bit of help from his elf, I found Draco sitting in one of the cells in the dungeon with just a chamber pot and a thin sheet. His crime? He told his father that it wasn’t true that all Muggleborns were idiots. He then proceeded to brag about how there was a beautiful Muggleborn that was smarter than him. He spent a week in the dungeon, eating nothing but broth and stale bread.”
I inhale, feeling guilty that he had to go through that at all. Draco had mentioned something about it, but he didn’t exactly dive into the details with me and I feel guilty for not prying further. If his father punished him for daring to challenge what he grew up being taught, I probably would have resented me too.
During the past few weeks, he’d told me he had been such a jerk to keep his father from thinking he cared about me, since he had heard about me being in the Slytherin common room on multiple occasions with Theo, and knew Theo was one of Draco’s closest friends. But Draco wasn’t cruel to me, not since that day he’d called me a Mudblood in front of the Quidditch teams. After that, everything was fragile and tense, somewhat civilized. We weren’t friends, but we weren’t enemies – at least not in my eyes. We even studied together a few times, although Theo was present as well.
“Oh, and then there’s third year where he was so miserable when Theodore befriended you. He was so jealous of his friendship with you, how easy it was for him to have a friendship with you, that they got into a fight over you. Multiple times during the year. And then there’s fourth year,” she scoffs. “He finally got the nerve to talk to you, invite you to the Slytherin party himself, and spent the whole night in your presence. Except you left the party, and when he followed you, he caught you snogging Viktor Krum in the halls. He still doesn’t like him, hasn’t been to a single one of his games since that night. And to make himself feel better that you made the easy choice, he comes to my bed, but he’s still thinking about you. Oh yes, it was so lovely, having the man I’d been arranged to marry since I was eight years old calling me by your name. Should I keep going?” Pansy pins her hard gaze on me, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper, wiping my face. “I didn’t…Pansy, I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that. I threw myself at him and he turned me down, and I ran into Viktor, but it wasn’t…we were friends.”
She rolls her eyes, her gaze softening. “I didn’t care about it the way you think I did. We were both having our fun with other people, our marriage was meant to be just business between our families. But Draco’s my friend, one of my closest friends. I will protect him to the grave. And I see the way it hurts him every time you flinch away from him, the fear and hesitation in your every move, the obvious distance you keep between the two of you, or the way you refuse to call him by his name. Is he not good enough for you?”
I shake my head, fresh tears pooling in my eyes and threatening to escape. “I’m not good enough for him!”
She furrows her brows in confusion, her mouth opening and closing multiple times before she shakes her head and tries to speak again. “What are you talking about? You’re a glorified saint, savior of the Wizarding World. Why would you not be good enough for him?”
“I can’t fall for him, Pansy,” I cry. I bury my face in my hands. “I know it sounds selfish, but I can't fall for him. And it has nothing to do with him, he's a great man and anyone would be lucky to have him as a husband. I just can't fall for him, I can't fall for anyone.”
“Why are you so intent on punishing him?” Pansy asks, her eyes pleading for answers.
“It's not him I'm punishing!” I shake my head, wiping my eyes furiously. “I was stupid in my past relationships and I let my guard down and it put everyone I care about at risk. I'm not doing it again. Our arrangement is purely business.”
“Then why agree to date him?” Pansy challenges. “You want him to love you, you want to fall in love with him. Why can't you just let yourself have something good? For the past two years, all I have seen is you pushing people away and pretending like you don’t need anyone.”
I shake my head, crying quietly.
Draco deserves better than me , I want to tell her. He deserves better than someone who's been beat and abused and raped. I don't even know how to be intimate anymore; just thinking about it makes me nauseous. And if I fall for him, I'm going to feel like I owe him everything . And I can't tell him the truth.
I can't tell him just how damaged I am and watch pity or anger or discomfort or disgust reflected on his features. Because I like how he looks at me lately, like I'm art or like I hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. And I also know how protective and possessive he can be. If he found out, he'd kill Ron, and then I'd lose him to Azkaban.
It's selfish, but I can't keep losing people or things I care about. I lost my parents because of my own recklessness, and I lost Crookshanks. I lost my closest friends – Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, Luna…
But I made new friends, and they're my family now. I trust Pansy with my life, she's the sister I wish I had growing up. Theo and Blaise are like brothers now, and Astoria is the friend I never thought I needed. She reminds me of my mom in the way she effortlessly nurtures and cares for people.
Pansy sits on the arm of my chair with a sigh, her arms wrapping around me and holding me for a few minutes. “Hermione,” she starts slowly, her voice just barely above a whisper, squeezing my shoulders. “I know that Ron betrayed your trust, and that opening yourself up to happiness and new relationships can be hard after being cheated on. But I can guarantee you that Draco isn't going to hurt you. You have more power over him than he ever will over you. He's not going to break your heart.”
I flinch, pulling back to look at her. “It’s not just that,” I whisper.
Tell her.
Someone has to know.
If I don’t tell anyone, I’m going to drown in my misery and guilt.
Besides, I trust Pansy with my life. She won't say anything to anyone. She wouldn’t risk my parents’ safety.
Sighing, I straighten my shoulders and meet her eyes, gathering every bit of strength I have left to finally confess to someone. To confess what haunts me, what plagues my nightmares, the reason I couldn’t stand to be touched for months after I was able to leave Ron. To give her an explanation, because I know for months they all thought I just didn’t trust them when the reality was that I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust my judgement of people after having been hurt by someone I had once thought loved me and would cherish me; someone I was friends with for years before we were romantically involved.
“He hurt me,” I say slowly.
Her dark eyes flit between mine, and I see the moment realization dawns on her features. Her expression hardens, her gaze sharp enough to kill someone. “Ron hurt you?”
I look down, biting the inside of my cheek. “He was angry with me for a lot of things after the war. We tried to work through it, but he’s never had a good temper and…he was grieving his brother.”
“No no no, you don’t make excuses for him. He hurt you?” She’s standing now, looking at me as if I’ve just told her the answer to some great mystery. “What did he do?”
I shake my head, tears running down my cheeks. I look down at my hands, clasped tightly in my lap, praying the ring no longer tells Draco when I’m having strong emotions. The last thing I need is him questioning me or showing up here to find out what’s wrong.
“It’s complicated,” I mutter finally.
“Did he get physical with you?” Pansy demands as if I haven’t said anything.
I keep my head bowed, twisting my ring around my finger, unable to take it off even if I wanted to.
Apparently my non answer is enough because Pansy starts pacing, muttering to herself so quietly I can’t hear what she’s saying over the sound of my heart beating in my ears.
“You can’t tell anyone, please, my parents…he knows where they are and..Pansy, you can’t tell anyone.” I finally look up at her, holding her gaze.
“No, I won’t tell anyone, I’ll just fucking kill him.” She exhales, shaking her head as she stomps her way to me, pulling me into her arms. One of her hands cradles the back of my head to her, and she holds my body tightly to hers around the shoulders.
And the weight, the weight that has finally been lifted off my shoulders now that I’ve confessed to someone, makes me sob. I lean into her embrace, ugly crying until I’m gasping for breath, my nails digging into my palms. I feel as my dress is replaced by my robe, hearing Pansy’s hushed reassurances and hushing sounds as she holds me and rocks me. At some point, we end up sitting on the floor, my head on her lap as she runs her fingers through my hair, having a hushed conversation with Millie who popped in to clean up and change me out of the gown with her magic.
I don’t know how long I cry, but when I finally run out of tears, I’m out of breath and my entire face feels puffy. Pansy offers me a glass of water and I take small sips from it, trying to wrap my mind around what I just confessed.
“Draco, Blaise, Theo and I will handle this. Nobody will be able to tie it to any of us,” Pansy is saying. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. Nobody deserves that. I’ll take care of this, I’ll make sure he never sets foot outside of Azkaban. Draco, Blaise, Theo and I can be discreet, only we will know. You won’t have to see him ever again, I swear.”
I look at her, my eyes going wide, shaking my head desperately. I grab my wand off the coffee table, pointing it directly at Pansy. She holds her hands up, her eyes wild as she looks at me.
“You can't tell anyone, you can't do anything. I'll Obliviate you. Your word, Pansy.” My wand shakes as I point it at her, my chin trembles as I speak, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as I wait for her decision.
“Hermione, you don't have to protect him, we can keep you safe,” she argues gently, rising slowly to her feet, keeping her hands up.
“You can't guarantee anything,” I snap. “Don't move closer, I know what you're doing. I want your word that you won't say anything to anyone. I'm not kidding, Pansy.”
She stares at me, and I catch the pain and hurt that crosses her features. She quickly regains her calm, collected features and nods with a heavy sigh. “Fine. But if he even looks at you wrong, I don’t care what you say, I will kill him on the spot. I don’t care if I end up in Azkaban for it. You don’t deserve this, and he doesn’t deserve to live life as if he’s a saint.”
“He has a child, a wife, and a family,” I say softly.
“You have a family too,” Pansy says softly.
I nod, dropping my wand back on the table and sitting on the floor with my back against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Pans.”
She slumps down next to me, taking my hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. “I understand why you didn’t, Granger.”
I lean my head on her shoulder, exhaustion making me feel sluggish. “I’m sorry you guys thought it was you I was scared of,” I whisper. “I saw the way you guys looked at me at the start, and even now occasionally. Thank you for sticking by anyway.”
She scoffs, leaning her cheek against the top of my head. “Oh, we don’t abandon our friends that easily. We stuck by Draco when he was being an impossible prat during sixth year, and for the months following his release from Azkaban. He was insufferable, and we might’ve hexed him a few times, but we’d never abandon one of our own. And you, our little lioness, are an honorary member of the snake pit.”
I roll my eyes, a laugh bubbling out of me. “Well, I love you guys, really. You saved me and you didn’t even know it.” I squeeze her hand, hoping she understands how much I mean it.
We sit quietly for a few minutes, holding hands, leaning on each other. Just as my eyes start to drift close, Pansy speaks again, quietly and with unnatural softness.
“Hermione, I think you should Draco. You don’t have to go into details, or even tell him who it was, but I think he deserves to know that your hesitation isn’t solely because of him. He’s been torturing himself, blaming his behavior during school…he thinks you don’t trust him because of who he had to be. I think it’s worth it for you guys to have a discussion and clear everything up.” She pauses, inhaling deeply before continuing. “And I know that I can’t take all your worries and fears from you, but I swear to you, I didn’t lie when I told you Draco wouldn’t hurt you. He would never put his hands on a woman, nor point his wand at you. He would never cause harm, physical or emotional.”
I bite the inside of my lip, nodding and squeezing her hand again, letting her know I hear her, even if I don’t know what to say. I’m so emotionally drained, I don’t know what to do.
“You deserve to feel safe, and loved, and cherished. You can’t punish yourself for what someone did to you. If you want someone to punish, punish the sinner,” she continues. “I won’t tell Draco, or anyone else. But please , if you think you can love him, please give yourself the chance to be loved by him.”
Chapter 17: Cheers
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When I finally make it home, still in a phenomenal mood after my first night sharing a bed with my wife, I make my way down to the gym since I'd felt the ripple on the wards set on this floor as someone had entered. Assuming it's Hermione, I make sure my steps aren't too quiet and knock on the door before pulling it open.
I'm shocked, however, when it's Pansy who's in the room. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, her skin is shiny with sweat, and she's throwing kicks and punches at the large punching bag like it's personally offended her. I had expected Blaise or Theo, who both like to use my personal gym when they’ve either had a rough day or need someone (me) to torture to get their frustrations out on. Pansy, however, prefers to shop using the money of whichever one of us managed to irritate her that day, or going on runs when it’s someone whose money she cannot access. For her to be in my gym though, and attacking the punching bag as she is, is concerning.
“Pans?” I approach her slowly, not really wanting to end up on the receiving end of her assault.
She stops, leaning her forehead against the punching bag and her shoulders shaking. I approach her slowly, casting a silencing charm on the room just in case. The despair and anger radiating from her is visible and thick in the air, her fingers sparking at the ends and making the leather smoke where her fingers grip the punching bag.
“It's not fair,” she sobs with her forehead pressed tightly against the leather, gripping it tightly.
I stand beside the punching bag, facing her, arms crossed. “What's not fair?”
She stays quiet for a long minute, and I wonder if she's ever going to answer as she straightens and pulls a dagger from the holster on her thigh beside her wand. She stabs it into the punching bag multiple times, screaming and grunting with each stab. When the punching bag is nothing but shredded black leather with shredded fabric poking out the holes, she straightens and I watch as her expression shifts from anguished anger to a dangerous calm.
“Life isn't fair,” she says finally, sheathing the dagger before wiping her tear and sweat streaked face. “If you hurt my friend, I will fucking gut you, Draco. I don’t care if it’s an accident, if you hurt her feelings or if you dared to put your hands on her in any way she finds unpleasant. I. Will. Gut. You.” She meets my eyes for the first time since I walked in, dark eyes rimmed red and bloodshot.
My brows furrow in confusion, wondering if maybe I did something last night that made Hermione uncomfortable, but coming up blank. “What are you talking about? Did she say something? Is Hermione okay?”
Pansy’s dark eyes search mine, her chin trembling. “She’s okay,” she croaks. “She might be a little angry with me for the hours we spent trying on dresses, but she’s okay. In other news, I want Kingsley dead. I think he’s lived a long enough life, don’t you?”
She goes to walk past me, but I grab her upper arm to stop her, looking down at her. “What did he do? What happened?”
“I just hate this law,” she says with a shrug, pulling her arm from my grasp. “I think Kingsley is going to end up as bad as Voldemort was; he seems to enjoy having power a little too much.” She sniffles, wiping more sweat from her forehead. “I'm going to go shower. I'll have your suit for the gala delivered in three days. I'm leaving after I shower so don't wait up. You and Hermione need dance lessons, so I’ll be here tomorrow at around two to help with that.”
Without giving me a chance to respond or saying anything else, she walks through the empty and mostly darkened room to where the showers are on the opposite end of the room.
Women are so confusing.
Sighing, I make my way out of the room, stopping by my personal office to drop off some of my shrunken research and placing it in the hidden safe behind the large bookcase. Hermione hasn’t gone into my personal office before, but I’ve made it clear every room is open to her and am hoping she feels comfortable enough snooping if she ever feels like doing so. However, I do not want her running across my research and getting her hopes up on hypotheticals.
I follow the sound of the telly up to our rooms, freezing in the doorway at the sight of Hermione asleep on the couch with her head on Millie’s lap. Millie is brushing her hair, humming softly as she watches the telly. Hermione has one hand tucked under her chin, a blanket covering her body.
“Master Draco,” Millie greets me quietly, smiling.
I smile back at her, stepping into the room and glancing at the television. Today, they’re watching an animated movie with some orange fish and a blue one arguing under water. I roll my eyes and settle myself on the opposite end of the couch, pulling Hermione’s feet onto my lap and massaging her feet and calves the way she likes.
I watch her for a few minutes; her expression relaxed as Millie plays with her hair. When I peel my eyes away and to the telly, I notice the calming draught bottle on the coffee table and frown, looking at Millie and raising a brow. The elf blushes, looking at Hermione before lifting her big eyes to mine.
“Mistress was very agitated after trying on dresses and couldn’t get comfortable,” Millie recites proudly, green eyes shining.
I know she’s lying, but the fact that she feels comfortable enough to do so makes me laugh a little. It’s quickly replaced with worry as I look down at the witch she’s lying for, wondering what could’ve happened to have required a calming draught.
Did Kingsley do something? It’s kind of unusual that Pansy brought him up downstairs, Millie is lying to my face, and Hermione required a calming draught because she was “agitated” – which I don’t doubt, but I doubt the reason is something as simple as trying on gowns for the afternoon. Hermione and Pansy’s friendship has been public knowledge for years, and I know that Pansy has helped dress her for multiple events over the years.
Maybe Pansy gave her a hard time about what she saw this morning? I tried to make it obvious that it wasn’t anything more than sleeping, but maybe Pansy questioned her further. While Pansy loves her friends more than anything, she can be a bit pushy and demanding and come off more than a little rude and judgmental when trying to gather information. Or perhaps she was pushing Hermione on the workings of our marriage, since it’s been known within our friend group that we haven’t consummated, and we’ve got a little over a month left before we have to consummate or risk Azkaban; something that has me more than a little nervous since we still haven’t even kissed again.
I’ve thought about it, of course. Every time we’re sitting on the couch together watching a movie or when I first see her in the mornings. I’ve thought about it when she’s laughing at something I’ve said, her eyes bright with joy and her cheeks flushed. I’ve thought about it every time I kiss the top of her hand, holding her gaze and letting my lips on her skin longer than necessary just to watch her blush. But I know that she’s not ready for me to make that move yet.
I should’ve kissed her in school, taken any of the many opportunities I had to do so. The night of the Yule Ball would’ve been perfect, but there was also that night in fifth year when I ran into her at the Astronomy Tower. Or in sixth year, when we shared the potions lab after hours to get some practice in before our examinations. Over the many years I saw her walking in the halls, I should’ve pulled her aside and kissed her. Dropped to my knees and begged her to give me a chance to prove my friendship to her if nothing else. I shouldn’t have been such an idiot, watching when she got her heart broken by Ronald Weasley of all people, and more than once at that.
How she thought she should settle for someone who couldn’t match her on an intellectual level, is beyond me. Never mind looks, but she obviously could never have a mentally stimulating conversation with the git. She deserved better than Krum, or Potter, or Weasley, or Pucey, or any other guy who wanted her. Shit, she could do better than me, but I’m trying to be better for her; something the other guys could never say. None of them took time to learn things that interested her, or read the same books as her just hoping one day they could talk about it.
“I didn’t know you were home,” Hermione says softly.
I turn my head, looking at her. She’s still laying with her head on Millie’s lap, but her eyes are trained on me and she’s smiling shyly at me.
“I haven’t been back long,” I murmur, pushing all my thoughts aside and focusing on her.
She nods, lifting herself into a sitting position and stretching her legs on the floor. Millie excuses herself quietly, taking the empty vial with her, and Hermione scoots closer to me, biting her lip.
“Can I come in?”
I frown, looking around, utterly confused. “We’re already inside?”
She giggles, shaking her head and reaching for my arm. She pulls my arm open and scoots into my side, curling herself against me and arranging the blanket around us both. I wrap my arm around her shoulders hesitantly, still unsure about how much contact she’ll allow, and when she relaxes into me, I relax and let my cheek rest on the top of her head while we watch the weird fish movie. I exhale softly, trying to blow some of her hair away from my mouth.
“You never have to ask to come in, love. I quite enjoy this,” I murmur.
“I do too,” she replies quietly. “You’re surprisingly warm for someone who looks to be made out of marble.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “I don’t look like I’m made of marble.”
“Have you seen yourself? Very stiff, especially dancing. Very pale, although your tattoos add a bit of color to your otherwise perfect complexion. And your hair is also light. It’s like you’re one of Michelangelo’s statues brought to life.”
I pull away to look at her, raising a brow. “I can guarantee you I look better than his statues, and my dick is bigger.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling and giggling. “Why do all guys have to point out penis sizes when talking? Is it insecurity? Because I didn’t bring up anything to do with your southern regions, Draco.”
I open my mouth to say something, my lips tangling with air. I watch her, wondering if she realizes her slip-up, but she’s just watching me waiting for a response. Smiling, I shake my head, already forgetting what we were debating about.
She called me Draco.
Not Malfoy.
“What movie are you watching anyway?” I ask instead, and she relaxes back against me, jumping into an explanation of this movie which is apparently called Finding Nemo.
***
“All I’m saying is, I love how open Muggles are about sexual pleasure. There are so many stores providing tools to be used in the bedroom, and I think we could learn something from them,” Theo is saying proudly as he passes out a store catalogue to all of us. “Now, I tried some of their vibrators and I think you ladies would enjoy it. I also purchased some edible underwear that I am very excited about, it’s supposed to taste like strawberries. And they have sex blankets! I don’t know what’s special about them, but I bought one for each of you. And just look at these floggers!”
It’s Friday night, so we’re out at a Muggle club, crowded into a booth. Hermione is sitting beside me, much closer than she was the first time we were at this very club, and my arm is draped over the booth seat behind her. She grabs the catalogue before her, leaning against the seat and resting her head on my shoulder as she flips through the catalogue.
“Yes, Theodore, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that these are…interesting tools for sex. But if you had more tools available, sex with you would be ridiculously long,” Pansy says, pointing a polished fingernail at him.
He gasps, holding his hand to his chest. “Ridiculously long? I will have you know, I am not only an excellent lover, but I am the King of foreplay.”
“Yes, dear, I do think it lasts a little too long though,” Luna says in her dreamy voice, patting Theo’s shoulder.
He looks at her, clearly shocked at her betrayal. “I thought you liked it! I’m a very attentive and generous lover.”
“It’s good for a few minutes, maybe fifteen at most, but after that it’s just a little tiring and you have rough fingers,” Luna explains, her eyes focused on the color changing lights on the dance floor.
“I agree,” Pansy says. “You kind of have to tune it out, Lovegood, I used to think about my to-do list for the following day to get through it.”
“I am offended!” Theo exclaims, looking between wife and Pansy. “I try so hard, and this is what I get? I’ll have you know, some men don’t bother with foreplay at all.”
“Sometimes it’s not necessary,” Pansy says with a shrug. “Sometimes you just need to fuck and get it out of the way quickly.”
Hermione is giggling beside me, tucking further into my side and I let my fingers brush over her bare shoulder. She doesn’t flinch, which makes my chest swell with pride.
“They’re not wrong, Theo,” Blaise says causally. “Cut the foreplay in half. You have to know when to stop. And besides, if you have to try at sex, then you're not very good at it, mate.”
I look up, frowning. “Wait, you and Theo?”
Blaise raises his brows at me, tilting his head, smirking. “You sound surprised, Malfoy.”
“You and Theo?”
“Yes,” Blaise says with a grin. “I was his first guy.” He sounds so proud of the fact, and I lean forward, prepared to burst his bubble.
I scoff, lifting my nose in the air slightly before I speak. “Uh, no, actually, I was his first guy.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Hermione sits up, turning sharply to look at me. “You slept with Theo?”
Well, I didn’t mean for her to find out like this – or at all, but it’s too late now.
I shrug, glancing around the table and noticing everyone’s eyes are now on me. “It was a long time ago, and we only did it once.”
“Technically twice, mate,” Theo says, taking a sip of his beer.
“Wait, but who was your first?” Astoria asks eagerly, leaning forward onto her elbows and watching Theo with wide eyes.
“I was,” I snap impatiently. “And it was only once.”
“No, mate, we did it twice. Once with you on top, and once with me on top. Two times.” He holds up his fingers as if I can’t count, and I shake my head.
“I still think that’s only once,” I grumble.
“No, it’s definitely twice,” Hermione says beside me, giggling. Her cheeks are liquor flushed, and I want to kiss them.
“This doesn’t answer the important question, who was first?!” Astoria asks, her voice rising in pitch.
“Wait, has everyone at this table had sex with Theodore?” Charlie asks, his brows furrowed.
Pansy looks at him, her gaze questioning, arms crossed across her chest. This is the first time tonight that she’s given him a look that isn’t purely murderous, and I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to question her about what the idiot must’ve done. Being that he’s a Weasley, I’m assuming he made an idiotic decision or another, or maybe she found out how little he actually makes and has realized she will be the one funding her many shopping sprees.
“Not me,” Charlie says, holding his hands up.
“If you all must know, my first was Oliver Wood,” Theo says proudly. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or have you all insecure, so I told you all it was you. It made you both feel more comfortable at the time, and I wanted the experience to be memorable and pleasurable for you. See? Generous lover. I’m surprised it didn’t come out sooner, I was starting to think I’d never have to confess, but this is like a boulder off my chest. Thanks guys.”
“Wait, so everyone has slept with Theo?” Charlie asks again, clearly still stuck on that question, eyes scanning the table.
Blaise and I, however, are glaring at Theodore over his lie.
“Okay, I need to know. Everyone who has had sex with Theodore Nott, please raise their hand in the air!” Astoria exclaims, throwing her own hand up in the air.
Luna, Pansy, Blaise, and I raise our hands and I’m relieved when Hermione doesn’t. The last thing I need is imagery of Theo’s never-ending foreplay practiced on Hermione.
"Well, fuck, he really gets around. Cheers to the King of Foreplay," Charlie grumbles, downing the rest of his beer.
“Granger, you better lift that hand,” Theo says with a wiggle of his brows, chewing on the end of the little drink umbrellas and winking at me.
"You too?" Charlie exclaims, his eyebrows so high on his forehead they almost touch his hairline.
“No, not me too!" she exclaims at Charlie, shaking her head and giving me an apologetic look before facing Theo. "Theodore, we kissed, nothing more,” Hermione says, pointing her finger at him.
I gape at her, grunting. “You kissed?”
“A very long time ago,” she admits quietly. She scoots away from me, her brows furrowed and folding in on herself slightly. “I was drunk, and it was after Ron and I had…I was looking for a distraction and Theo was friendly, and I had heard a lot about his...sexcapades while we were in school, and I was curious I tried, but I ended up falling asleep.”
“Because the foreplay takes so long,” Luna provides, sending half the table into laughter and Theo exclaiming at his wife.
“No! We didn’t get that far at all, no foreplay,” Hermione says, blushing wildly. “There was no heat, or chemistry for us to work with, it didn’t go past a kiss. I was so drunk I couldn't keep my eyes open through our conversation afterwards, and I fell asleep, so it definitely didn't go anywhere past a not-so-great kiss and polite conversation.”
I grin. Not-so-great kiss makes sense. Theo uses too much tongue; it's like kissing a dog.
“I could’ve made chemistry,” Theo says. “I could make chemistry right now, I keep asking Dray here to invite me to your bed and spice up your sex lives, but he’s a selfish lover and won’t share.” He tsks, shaking his head. “Always has been a selfish lover come to think of it, I think it’s that only child syndrome people talk about.”
“It’s in his nature,” Luna says dreamily with a nod. “Dragons are known to be possessive.”
“You do know he’s not an actual dragon?” Pansy asks, staring at Luna like she’s crazy, which she probably is at least a little bit, although it makes her more interesting.
“Of course,” Luna says with a smile.
“I’ll take your notes into consideration though, don’t worry. Foreplay to reduced, although we still haven’t covered anything on these interesting little contraptions? Handcuffs anyone? Or nipple clamps! Those look mighty fun,” Theo exclaims, circling multiple pictures of different things.
Luna watches him go through it, occasionally pointing at things and crossing things out for him, and I turn my attention away so I don’t unnecessarily learn more about the going ons of their sex life. Who would’ve known Lovegood was a freak in the sheets.
Hermione and Charlie are talking about some of his teaching plans for his D.A. class that he’ll be starting this coming September, giving Horace Slughorn the opportunity to retire from the position he’s had for the last five years. Apparently he hadn’t really wanted the job after the Battle of Hogwarts, but took it to help Headmistress McGonagall get the school reopened faster.
Hermione is a bit tense beside me, and I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I try to listen to whatever Blaise is talking about. Every time Charlie moves, Hermione shifts in her seat, scooting closer or crossing and uncrossing her legs. After a few minutes, she’s full on bouncing her leg against mine, and I place my hand on her knee and lean my thigh tighter to her thigh. She freezes, watching me, her lips parted and her gaze running over my features before they settle on my lips.
“I need to use the loo,” she says softly, her gaze still pinned to my lips.
I lick them, nodding and giving her knee a light squeeze before pulling my hand back.
She quirks her lips up into a small smile, dropping her gaze to her lap before standing, wobbling slightly on her feet. I reach forward, grabbing her by the hips to steady her, and she places her hands on mine with a light laugh. “Clumsy,” I murmur, looking up at her.
I rather like looking up at her, maybe one day I’ll do it while on my knees. The lights overhead make her look like she’s glowing, and the dress she’s wearing tonight – a short, red dress with cap sleeves – is pushing up her breasts to the point they’re almost spilling out the top.
“Pans, come with me?” Hermione asks, raising a brow at Pansy.
Pansy is watching Hermione and I with an amused glint, but pushes Charlie out of the booth and stands quickly, nodding. Charlie sighs, slumping back into his seat as the two witches head off in the direction of the small hallway leading to the restrooms.
“So, what did you do?” I ask, leaning back in my seat, raising a brow at the dragon tamer.
“I have no clue,” he admits, rubbing his hand over his face. “I was actually going to ask you.”
“Me?”
“She came home like this after going to your house,” he explains. His eyes are steady on mine, and his jaw clenches and unclenches a few times before he leans forward with a grunt and levels his eyes on mine. “I know you two have a past, and I know you’ve never approved of my family.”
I squint at him. “Are you asking if there’s still something going on with Pansy and I? Because what her and I had was hardly anything either of us wanted, and she and I are just friends. She’s more like a sister now than anything else.”
He hums, watching me for a few minutes longer. “So, nothing happened at your house to upset her?”
“I wasn’t there for more than a few minutes. I had errands to run, she was helping Hermione find a gown for the gala coming up.”
He sighs, leaning back in his seat again. “Then I don’t know,” he mutters, going deep into thought as he stares at the table.
I take a few generous sips of my drink, wondering if I should order Hermione some of those cheese sticks she loves so much. Maybe I’ll ask her when she comes back, we’ve been here a few hours and I don’t know if she’ll want to stay longer or call it a night.
I wait a few minutes, impatiently bouncing my leg. I look around, hoping to catch sight of her wild head of curls, but nothing. Ten minutes go by, neither Pansy nor Hermione returning to the table. Theo left for the loo himself a few minutes ago, and Luna talks with Astoria and Blaise, too quietly for me to hear. Astoria is leaning heavily against Blaise, her eyes droopy even though she hasn’t had any alcohol tonight; her drinks have been sipped by Blaise.
I’m sure they’ll be sharing the news soon. No wonder the Ministry didn’t rush them for a wedding like they have been for almost everyone else.
I look at my watch. Fifteen minutes now.
I push my drink away, getting up and walking to where I’d seen Hermione disappear into, pushing my way through the crowded hallway. I follow the signs that lead to the bathroom, scanning every face I pass for either Hermione or Pansy.
“He’s never going to do it like this,” Pansy’s voice can be heard over the hum of the music playing in the club, now too far away to clearly hear the music.
Theo, Pansy and Hermione are huddled together in a small alcove near the bathroom. Theo is standing with his head hanging, arms crossed across his chest as if he’s deep in thought. Hermione and Pansy seem to be arguing something, Pansy’s glare trained on her. I stand close to the wall, trying to figure out what’s going on before any of them notice me.
“He won’t know,” Hermione says.
“You think he won’t notice?” Pansy again, sounding incredulous. “Hermione, he’s smarter than that, why can’t you just talk to him and–”
“You already know why!”
A look I don’t understand crosses Pansy’s features, and then she’s pulling Hermione into a hug, saying something too quietly for me to hear. Theo turns around then, probably giving the two witches some privacy, and that’s when he notices me.
“Well, we’ve got company,” Theo announces, grinning. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t trying to seduce your wife,” he jokes.
Hermione pulls away from Pansy, giving me an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, there was a long line.”
I try to smile, but I’m sure it comes off barely a lift of the corner of my lips. “I was just making sure you were okay.”
What were you talking about? What aren’t you telling me? What does Pansy know that I don’t? Is Theo in on whatever this is?
“Thank you,” she says. “Should we head back? I was actually hoping you’d want to go to this little ice cream shop down the road.”
I nod, looking between the three of them. Pansy keeps her head down, her jaw clenched tightly. Theo just stares with a stupid grin on his face, still chewing on the end of that ridiculous umbrella he’s decided to keep as an accessory for his mouth.
“Of course, love,” I say when it’s clear she’s waiting for a response. “Just us or did you want to invite everyone else?”
“I’m a bit socialed out…I was hoping it’d be just us two,” she says slowly.
I nod, offering her my arm out of habit. She takes it, probably just as used to the habit by now, and we walk out of the alcove, her grip tightening on my arm as we dodge the sweaty bodies crowding the floor just to make our way back to the table.
Astoria is fully asleep on Blaise at this point, and I smile fondly at her. Blaise is looking at her adoringly, and I couldn’t be happier for the two. They’ve loved each other as long as I can remember, though it took Theo sleeping with Astoria (her plan) for Blaise to figure out how he felt and finally make a move on her. Luna beams at Theo when he appears from behind us, and Pansy reluctantly climbs onto Charlie’s lap, saying something into his ear that makes him relax before he embraces her.
“We’re headed out,” I tell the table, setting a few bills on the table and grabbing my coat and Hermione’s clutch from the bench.
***
We walk slowly down the quiet London streets, following a GPS on Hermione’s cellular to the ice cream shop she’s wanting to try out.
“So you don’t know how to fly?” I ask incredulously, because how could she not know how to fly. She was in the same class as me in first year, although I don’t remember much since I was so focused on the fun of flying.
“I know how to fly, just not well,” Hermione says with a flush, her eyes trained on her feet. “I don’t like flying, on planes or on brooms. It makes me queasy and brooms can be so unpredictable–”
“You control the broom,” I say with a laugh.
“It doesn’t feel like it!”
I shake my head, chuckling. “Did you pass your examination first year?”
“Just barely,” she grumbles. “I tried to negotiate for a written essay instead of a demonstration of skills. I understand the concept, very well in fact, but Madam Hooch would not have it.”
“So that’s two classes I got better marks in than you,” I point out.
“I would’ve gotten better marks in Potions than you if Professor Snape hadn’t hated me,” she argues, pointing a finger at me.
“Nah, I am an exceptional potioneer. No offense, but some of your potions were questionable at best,” I say, remembering the way her hair would frizz up to surprising volumes the longer she struggled with a potion. We spent many nights in the same potions lab, trying to ignore each other, as we practiced for our examinations or – in my case – brewed just to keep busy.
Whenever it was just us in the potions lab, I would try to find any excuse to be close to her. Grabbing supplies, I’d stand behind her and reach over her shoulder or around her arm just to feel what it would be like if she was leaning against my chest. Or if I was walking past her, I’d place my hands on her waist to “keep her steady” while she worked, knowing she was so engrossed in what she was doing and would jump if she didn’t know I was behind her, possibly spilling ingredients on the table or the floor. She never seemed to mind, and a few times we’d even talked. Nothing important or big, but sometimes she’d mention that she saw me reading a book she liked or she’d offer me some of her sweets.
We make it to the little ice cream shop, and Hermione orders a chocolate peanut butter scoop. I order a scoop of French vanilla, hardly looking at the spread of options. I pay and we sit on a low brick ledge outside the shop.
Making sure there are no Muggles around, I murmur a quick heating charm before tucking my wand back in my pocket. Hermione smiles gratefully at me, licking the sides of the paper cup the ice cream is in, melting a little and dripping over the edge.
“Can I ask you a question?” Hermione asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence, both of us having been focused on our ice cream.
“Of course,” I answer, resting my ice cream cup on my knee.
“I know that our circumstances are a bit strange,” she starts slowly, clearly trying to choose her words carefully, and I tense as I wait for the rest of the question. “I mean, most people would do the easy thing with this law, but I don’t think either of us saw this match coming until it did. And well, I was wondering if you were opposed to…delaying…a pregnancy?”
I set my cup down beside me on the brick, turning to face her. I grab her cup out of her hands, setting it with mine and taking her cold hands into my own.
“I have no intention of doing anything unless you’re fully on board, Hermione. If you don’t want me to kiss you, I won’t. If you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t touch you. If you want to have separate rooms for the entirety of our marriage, we’ll have separate rooms. If you don’t want to have sex, we won’t. If you don’t want to have children, then we won’t.”
Her hands are trembling in mine, and I squeeze them, scooting closer until her knees are pressed to the inside of my thigh.
“Our consummation deadline is coming up though,” she whispers, dropping her gaze to my hands. “And I can do that, but I am not ready to be a mother.”
“We’ll work around it,” I say, rubbing her knuckles. “I have read through that contract many times, and there are a few things we can do as long as the Ministry doesn’t find out.”
She looks up at me then, her amber eyes glistening. “You’ve done research?”
I raise a brow at her, smirking. “I didn’t come in second in our class without knowing how to do research.”
She giggles, nodding. “Well, I have some ideas too. Maybe we could talk about them? Some would work better than others, and I didn’t know if you’d have a preference on anything.”
“Love,” I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my eyes so she understands exactly what I’m trying to tell her. “You are in charge here. It’s your body. You tell me what to do, and I will do it.”
One of her hands comes up to cover mine on her cheek, and we’re so close that I can feel the shaky exhale she lets out against my chin. Her eyes search mine, and my stomach flips at the strange look that crosses her features.
She drops her gaze quickly, blinking rapidly and I let my hands linger on her skin a little longer before I drop them onto my lap, taking in our surroundings. It's late, so there aren't many people around, and hardly any cars on the roads. It's peaceful.
“I return to work the Monday after the gala,” she says suddenly.
I smirk, nodding. “Yeah, me too.”
“Right, of course,” she sounds embarrassed. “I was wondering how our routine would change with us returning to work?”
I look at her, raising a brow at the pink staining her cheeks. “Routine?”
“Well we eat every meal together,” she points out. “I assumed we'd still have dinner together, but I wasn't sure if we'd see each other at all before then. I guess I just want to know what to expect,” she finishes quietly.
I smile, placing a hand on her knee and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I was hoping we'd still have breakfast together. I like seeing you in the morning, even though you're cranky and quiet in the mornings. We work in the same building, so we could floo together or walk together. And, as long as I don't have a mission keeping me occupied elsewhere, I was hoping you'd be okay having lunch together. I know you have friends you have lunch with, so it doesn't have to be every day if you don't want to, but I wanted to give you the option.” I shrug, going for nonchalance even with my heartbeat growing a bit erratic and my palms sweating a bit. “I could meet you at your office at the end of the work day and we could head home together. I have some missions that take me away sometimes, but I usually know when those are and I'll let you know. I've added you as an authorized recipient for my schedule, so you'll know of any changes in my schedule when they happen.”
“I don’t always take a lunch break,” she admits, looking out at the road. “But I have come to enjoy our meals together, and you make for great conversation. I think I’d like to continue that, if you aren’t opposed.”
I bump her shoulder with my own, smiling. “I wouldn’t have offered it if I was opposed,” I joke. “So, it’s settled?”
I glance at her, watching her nod and brush a curl behind her ear now that the wind has picked up a bit. My coat is hanging off her shoulders, covering her bare skin from the elements, although her long legs are still on display.
“Breakfast together at home, go to work together, lunch, and go home together. Very domestic,” she says, biting her lip, though I can still her lips turn up in a hint of a smile. “I have to confess though, I agreed to have lunch with Narcissa on Wednesdays.”
Well, that’s a surprise. I didn’t realize they were getting on so well. Unless Mom is being pushy–
“Is she forcing you?” the words are out before I’ve even had a chance to rephrase the question to something that doesn’t sound like an accusation.
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “No, she’s actually really good company. She’s funny, and sometimes she reminds me of my mom.”
“She always wanted a daughter,” I tell her. “She loved me and spoiled me, but I wasn’t exactly someone she could take shopping with her or out to get manicures and get their hair done. I did it when I had to, but it wasn’t something I enjoyed and tended to be bitter about it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Draco Malfoy spoiled? And honestly, I never would’ve guessed you didn’t enjoy going shopping or getting your hair done with how much attention you paid to your hair throughout school. I think you alone kept whatever hair gel company you used in business. And manicures?” She snorts a laugh, shaking her head. “I wish I’d known that in school, would’ve made for some pretty good jokes, I’m sure.”
I scoff, shaking my head at her. “I only did it a few times, and I stopped in third year. And I did not use that much hair product; my hair has always been perfect."
She laughs, throwing her head back. I watch her, my own lips spread in an easy smile at the way she laughs so genuinely and with her whole chest.
We sit in silence for a few minutes longer, and after hesitating and contemplating for two minutes, I scoot closer to her and throw my arm over her shoulders. I’m surprised and relieved when she doesn’t jump or flinch, instead leaning her shoulder into the crook between my arm and chest and looking up at me.
Her brows are furrowed as she takes me in, her eyes dancing between my eyes. “Are you ever going to kiss me again?” she whispers.
I smile, chuckling. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
She bites her lip, her amber eyes dropping to my lips before she nods, her eyes lifting to mine, her brows scrunching together as if she’s begging.
I raise my hand slowly, brushing my fingers over her cheek before cupping her face and letting my fingers drift closer to the nape of her neck. I lean in slowly, my arm dropping from around her shoulders, fingers dancing over her covered spine before I curl my fingers around her waist. Her breaths are coming in short and fast, but she’s leaning forward too, and I pray to Gods I don’t even know exist, but hear of all the same, that nobody interrupts this.
Please don’t let anyone interrupt this because I might just die.
Her lids shutter close just as my nose brushes hers, gently tilting her head back before my lips brush hers. The kiss is light, our lips ghosting over each other, exploring, tasting, becoming familiar. I map the feel of the curve of her cupid’s bow, how soft her lips are, the taste of the chocolate and peanut butter still lingering on her lips. I memorize how my lips fit with hers, the way she tilts her head further back for our kiss to deepen. I focus on how she smells like green apples tonight, how I can feel her hair being blown into our faces and it tickles my jaw. I focus on her warmth, the heat that radiates from her body, but somehow her hands and feet are always cold.
When I feel her hands on my sides – one trailing up until it’s on my shoulder and the other wrapping around me, tugging me closer – I open my mouth and let my tongue trace the seam of her lips. Her lips part and her tongue meets mine, cold from the ice cream still, and I can taste a hint of the strawberry daiquiris she drank tonight. She gasps when my tongue piercing makes contact with her tongue, and her grip on my shoulder tightens, but she doesn’t push me away. I feel her knees digging deeper into my thigh, pressing herself closer to me, and I have to remind myself we’re in public so I don’t end up dragging her onto my lap to devour her.
Despite the fire roaring through my veins at finally kissing her, I keep my kiss slow and gentle. She explores my mouth just as thoroughly as I do hers, her tongue flicking up against my teeth and the roof of my mouth, our tongues tangling together. Her nails scrape lightly over the back of my neck, and I growl against her lips, leaning forward to capture her bottom lip between my teeth and giving it a tug.
She giggles, smiling against my lips before we’re kissing again. Slow, sensual kisses.
She pulls away first, leaning her forehead against my chin and gasping in the small space between us. I exhale against the top of her head, placing a kiss to the top of her head and letting my fingers rub circles on the back of her neck. Her hands are gripping the sides of my shirt tightly, a slight tremble in her fingers.
“Are you cold?” I ask, my voice nearly a whisper, not wanting to break the fragility of this moment.
Please don’t regret this, please don’t regret this.
“No,” she whispers back. She pulls away, looking up at me, her lips swollen from our snog session and her cheeks tinted pink. “That was better than I thought it could be.”
I raise a brow, leaning back to look at her better. “Was our first kiss so bad?”
She shakes her head, giggling. “No, not at all. I just thought first kisses were always phenomenal compared to any that come after it, biology tricking the brain into–never mind, I’m rambling. I’m nervous, and I’m rambling.”
I chuckle, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. “I enjoy your rambling, love.”
She smiles up at me, her eyes sparkling. “Can we go home?”
Notes:
I'm sorry Theo, you just seem the type, and I couldn't help a fun teasing conversation!
Thank you for the comments, kudos and bookmarks! You guys keep me motivated every time I feel like quitting.
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Last Edited Thu 17 Jul 2025 07:21AM UTC
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