A/N: Inspired by that magical and beautiful song "Rewrite the Stars" from the amazing The Greatest Showman. My favorite Harry Potter pairing needed this oneshot. The characters and world belong to JKR, I own nothing…
"Morning, Draco!"
Draco Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose, stifling a biting remark at the entirely too loud voice of his partner….
Who apparently had not noticed, or simply did not care, that his salutation was not being reciprocated, as he brightly continued in morning pleasantries.
"Hope you didn't eat breakfast yet, Ginny's practice was canceled and she baked sticky buns for the office this morning. I snagged us some to have with our coffee before starting the mountain of paperwork from the week and—"
"Shut up, Potter!"
Draco snapped his head up from the file in front of him, igniting that certain pinching nerve in his neck, so that he ground his teeth together to keep from releasing a surprised yelp. His grip on his quill tightened and white, hot irritation rolled off him in waves as his work partner of five years froze in front of his desk.
Harry waved his wand at two small levitating plates and two steaming mugs, guiding them to rest on his own desk across the room. His green eyes pierced and burned.
With an air of practiced calm, Draco smoothly dropped his quill in his pot of ink, forcing all emotion from his features. "Sorry, I'm sure Ginny did great, but I already ate. And if you'd been using any of your Auror senses, you'd have noticed I have tea on weekday mornings, and only have coffee if we have to come in on a Saturday."
"Actually, it may surprise you, but after all these years, I did notice that," Harry immediately countered before inclining his head, an irritatingly smug look overtaking his face. "I also know that you only revert to calling me 'Potter' when you're genuinely cross. I'd decided last week that it must have been me that had you so suddenly solemn and snarky, but you've just confirmed that it's something else, or someoneelse entirely—and my guess is it's a witch."
"What?!"
Draco mentally cursed himself for his incredulous outburst, even as Harry's smirk broadened.
"It's elementary, really, my dear Draco," he began with a mocking superior tone. "You mysteriously switched to black coffee on Mondays and Fridays about seven weeks ago, and only on those two days. I had just worked up the gumption to ask you about it last Monday when you came in with a mug of tea. You had tea again last Friday and again this Monday—I decided a little experiment was in order to get some answers this morning…"
Draco blinked and swallowed, ignoring the heat washing across his face. "Keen observations, but that hardly points to a witch."
"Oh, but it does. You see, I've been noticing a hint of a feminine fragrance in the office those Monday and Friday coffee mornings. And while Wednesdays are tea mornings, that scent somehow appears in the office…But that all came to an abrupt halt when you switched back to tea last week…." Harry's eyes narrowed and he leaned accusingly over the edge of Draco's desk. "I can't believe it took me until last night to figure out: I know that smell."
Draco clenched his fists on his desk, his knuckles whitening…
But Harry wasn't finished. "And it took me so long because she's been mysteriously absent and nearly always occupied when we've tried to see her lately, too." He straightened back up, raking a hand through his dark hair. "We're friends, as well as partners, Draco. I'll give you all the time and space you need it, but—"
Harry's next words were lost. At that precise moment, a large ethereal Jack Russel Terroir leaped and bounded through the open door, a male voice yipping and barking from its silver mouth.
"George and I heard an explosion across the street-the potion shop is on fire."
Draco didn't realize he was standing until hearing the 'THUD' of his chair colliding with the wall. He summoned his cloak with a nonverbal Accio, throwing it on.
Harry was already at the door. "I'm getting backup, Draco—do not do anything stupid until I get there!"
"I suggest you get a move on then, Harry!"
With an iron-grip on his wand, everything spun and darkness pressed all around as he Disapperated from the office…
The claustrophobic hold releasing as he landed in the middle of a chaotic crowd in Diagon Alley. People were scrambling and screaming names, uttering relieved cries as they found their missing person. There was an underlying roar of what used to be a large potion shop and laboratory, but was now alight with large orange and yellow flames…
He nearly sank with sickening nausea, which was from far more than the taste of smoke and combined burst potion vials. His legs were as lead, rooted entirely to the cobblestone street.
"Draco!"
"Harry!" he croaked. "Harry, I…"
"Headcount, mate. We need to start with making sure everyone's made it out."
Draco nodded, the synapses of his brain firing as Harry grabbed him. He shrugged out of Harry's grasp, yelling as they wove through the madness.
"Theo! Hermione! Luna!"
"Draco!"
His heart summersaulted as a large hand shot up in the crowd and started waving frantically. Draco lunged and shoved through the crowd, not even waiting to see if Harry was with him. Theo burst through the sea of people with equal fervor, looking slightly tousled but otherwise unharmed.
Draco grasped his friend's arms. "Mate, are you alright? Was anyone inside hurt?"
Theo shook his head. "I was outside with the delivery guys—we had a very large order for St. Mungo's today and Hermione had some things to do in her office."
Icy, clammy fingers wound and squeezed at Draco's insides…
"Where is she? Is everyone accounted for?" Harry asked from his left, his voice calm and commanding.
"I was just trying to—Luna! Has everyone made it out?"
The disheveled blonde witch in question nodded slowly. "Yes, the intern burst into storefront from the lab just before the explosion. We were all knocked off our feet, but I counted all the customers leaving the building personally. You and Hermione were already outside with the delivery—"
"What?! No!" Theo began shaking his head vigorously. "She said she needed to go back to her office…"
"Theodore, I didn't see her exit the building…"
Horrified voices sounded distant and far off to Draco, as if calling out through a storm over the ocean. He stared at the hypnotic blazing flames devouring the framework of the potion store….
And his feet suddenly moved of their own accord, his legs filled with a life all their own as he inhaled sharply, shed his cloak, and ran straight into the flames, wand drawn.
Thick smoke assaulted his lungs instantly and he stifled a cough.
He cupped his hands around his mouth.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"
He yelled her name again and drew his elbow to his nose for a sharp breath before calling—screaming—her name again. He blinked hard and fast to see through tears filling his eyes, attempting to protect them from the penetrating heat and smoke.
There was nothing that looked like a body in the midst of the burning shelves, or behind the large check-out desk…
Coughing and gasping, he called out for the curly-haired witch, casting his gaze around the large storefront once more.
Frantically…
Uselessly…
Crackling wood fell from above; flames licking at his Auror robes and leather boots.
Water sprang from his wand as he gasped out an Augimenti, extinguishing the flames nearest him. He aimed and marched left, battling the overwhelming flames in the ruined corridor leading to the potion lab and offices…
He blinked and called out again, counting the burning doors on his right. Hermione's office was the third door on the right. Sweat beaded and trickled down his face, stinging his eyes as he stumbled down the hallway and submitted to coughing fits. He drew a haggard breath in his raised elbow, slowly moving further down the blazing corridor…
He yelled the spell again, coming to the burning remains of the witch's office—his witch. Maddening and overwhelming possession coursed through him, summoning enough oxygen and force for one large blast of water, quenching the flames at the doorway of her office.
His lungs screamed and stung as he heaved and lunged over the threshold and into the scorching, crackling abyss.
Flames danced over and around various shaped glass vases scattered throughout the room—well over half a dozen of them, but nothing else escaped. It was all ablaze—her desk, chair, wooden filing cabinets…
Every last book case…
Containing hundreds of books that she had read so often, they were etched into her heart and memory…
"Hermione?"
His voice sounded faint and foreign.
Desperate coughs scratched and leeched onto his dry throat.
Inexplicably, everything dimmed and darkened.
"Hermione…" he rasped, succumbing to a bout of coughs, falling to his knees near a burning rug…
He croaked out the witch's name once more, consciously aware that the only answer to his desperate plea was the mocking roar and crackle of the flames…
Before darkness swallowed him.
DHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHDH
He was weightless and floating.
As if through a cloud.
Or fog—thick, cool and grey.
A melody hummed and echoed in his mind, like from the other side of a cave.
He grasped at the sound, focusing and clinging to it as his only link to clarity and reality through the haze.
He was grappling and clawing, trying to make out words—
Only there were none…
Not at the moment.
It was a voice—soft, feminine, gentle and…
Warm.
It surrounded him—winding, wrapping and consuming…
Guiding him forward.
Until the fog dissipated entirely.
He knew that feminine fragrance. And he recognized the voice.
The humming melody ended and he heard his name. Uttered reverently…pleadingly. Prayerfully.The sound of his name of those perfect lips he knew by heart—he had traced them over and over again in his mind every sleepless night the last two weeks, and countless times before then.
And he was suddenly struck with the awareness of healing warmth, instead of overwhelming burning heat. His right hand was especially warm and tingling. Cocooned in smooth skin. Feather-like touches tracing over his wrist—as if wanting to be reassured of his heartbeat.
She whispered his name again, raising his hand and pressing it against a cool expanse of skin—her cheek—and nuzzled into his palm. He stopped himself from flexing his fingers and cupping her cheek just as her skin thrummed and vibrated—she started to speak in hushed tones. He focused all his energy to discerning her words, until he determined she was quoting Shakespeare, recognizing and following along in his mind:
"Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Caesar—what should be in that "Caesar"?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name.
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well."
Her voice dimmed and trailed off. She was now cradling and stoking his elevated hand in both of hers—those dainty hands, always moving gracefully, with delicate precision.
He could contain himself no longer…
He inhaled shakily, and grasped her hand as he felt her wince and try to withdraw. Sheets rustled as he shifted and twisted, releasing he was laying at an incline in a not very comfortable bed, holding fast to her hand all the while. His eyelids felt far too heavy, so they remained thus for a moment, Draco drawing deep and all-consuming breaths, searching for just the right words…
"Call me but love," he started, his voice hoarse and low, barely audible to even himself. "And I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo."
He heard her breath hitch. "I asked Harry if I could sit with you for a bit. I'll leave, or run fetch him, if you'd prefer."
"Hermione..."
His throat felt parched and sore, and he determined he wouldn't be able to say very much. He fluttered his eyelids open and closed again, testing their strength, disappointingly deciding they needed a moment longer at rest...He exhaled slowly, pulling his eyebrows together. "Hermione, you're here."
He heard her swallow hard. "Of course...of course I'm here, Draco."
He frowned, biting back a harsh quip, chewing his tongue for a moment, instead. "You're alive. I looked in the store and couldn't find you."
"Oh, Draco." She brought his hand back to her cheek, and he felt a steady stream of tears chasing down her face. "I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry. Theo was commenting on how down you'd been while we were watching the delivery guys load our order, and then started to joke about setting you up and I just...Well, I blurted put something about needing to get started on something in my office, and he said he could handle things from there...But, once I was in my office, you were everywhere, and only made it ten minutes this time before Apparated out...I landed next to my couch at home and...and I didn't know about the fire or you or that I was considered missing until Harry's silver stag found me and told me I had five minutes to get to St. Mungo's before he dispatched a team of Aurors to search for me..."
Draco chuckled in spite of himself, and then winced at the effort. "Tactless fool..." he murmured, tingles shooting up his arm as Hermione squeezed her fingers around his palm.
He decided it was worth the effort to try opening his eyes again. His eyelids fluttered once. Then twice. Until he was blinking slowly and heavily.
And drinking in the iridescent and resplendent sight of his curly-haired witch...
Chestnut curls, with natural amber and russet hues and streaks. Endless brown eyes that shone of golden honey when close enough.
"I saw the vases in your office," he managed, loathing that his voice still croaked and cracked like a toad.
Hermione nodded, looking directly in to his eyes.
He pushed and heaved, lifting his head just enough to incline it. "You're the one who ended things, why keep them?"
Tears filled and swam in Hermione's endless orbs. She opened her mouth, but her bottom lip quivered, and she closed her mouth and swallowed before trying again. "I know. And I've no right to be here, or beg your forgiveness, Draco—but, I was wrong."
Every breath in his lungs left him—was squeezed right from his chest, even as she swallowed again and swiped at her eyes.
"I was scared, Draco. We had only been dating a month, and I could easily see having a future with you, and falling in love with you or well be on my way there—maybe even already being there—and when you talked about officially introducing me to your mother, I thought I'd save the both of us from you being placed in the awful position of having to choose between them or me and so I ended things before we could get there… Only now I see they wasn't brave or selfless, it was—"
"—Thoughtless, selfish and rather prejudiced of you, Miss Granger, wouldn't you agree?"
Hermione yelped and whirled on her heels; Draco's heart thudded before he groaned and sank back into a scratchy and thin hospital issued pillow.
"Hello, Mother," he rasped, forcing some semblance of placidity into his expression. "I didn't hear you come in..."
"Silencing charms on the door, Auror Malfoy," a portly witch answered stepping through the open door. All eyes turned to the newcomer in faded Healer robes smiled brightly—entirely too brightly, in Draco's opinion—while levitating a tray of vials. "It's handy when we need to slip in and out of the patient's room for something quick without disturbing them, but there are drawbacks to that as well..."
"Indeed," his mother hummed in bored acknowledgement.
Hermione continued closely by his bedside, though now stiff and rigid, wringing her hands together. She slowly turned, a small, almost bashful, smile tugging at the corners of her perfect lips. "I should go, you'll have other visitors soo—"
"DRACO! You blithering idiot! I'm going to send in a letter to the Ministry, demanding you and Potter be separated!"
The Malfoy heir actually growled and sank even deeper into the pillow and mattress, inclining his body towards Hermione's, instinctively reaching for and grasping her hand, twining their fingers, as Theodore Nott burst into the room, marching dramatically to stand near the surprised Healer.
"He's turning you in to some reckless Gryffindor and I won't—" Theo came to an abrupt standstill next to the Healer, silenced midsentence, staring wide-eyed at Draco and Hermione's intertwined hands…
Snapping glittering eyes to Hermione. "This is the mystery wizard? This platinum, pasty prig is the one who's kept your office resembling a florist shop all last month? He's the reason you've been a moping and unfocused mess at the store and in the lab the last two weeks?"
Draco squeezed Hermione's fingers—he could nearly hear the cogs in her brain sputtering then racing…And he could almost feel the worry lines etching across her brow.
"Mate…" he ground out—
"—And you're the witch!" Theo incredulously continued, ignoring Draco completely, eyes narrowing and hardening. "You're the one he's been brooding, snarling and withdrawn over!" He waved an accusing finger between the witch and wizard. "Merlin, you two figure this out, or I'm washing my hands of both of you—d'you hear me? I don't know why you felt the need for secrecy, who suddenly called it quits, and I don't care! It was obviously a mistake, so fix it—because I refuse, steadfastly and emphatically refuse, to put up with a sulking Malfoy and shell of a Granger any longer!"
The room was entirely and awkwardly silent as they all blinked owlishly in the wake of that absurd and petulant outburst.
Until a loud and boyish laugh burst from Draco, followed by another and another…with Theo and the Healer joining in…
Abruptly ceasing when as Draco gasped and pressing his left hand to his chest. His throat seemed to be trying to strangle him, he was desperate to breathe, and he fell forward in a fit of coughs. Hermione dropped his hand, only to take it up again with her right hand as she began to rub slow soothing circles over his back with her newly freed left hand.
She must now be leaning nearer him, for as he heaved a deep and steadying breath, he breathed her—everything that was Hermione. Orange blossoms, cinnamon and cloves—lively warmth, sweetness and comfort. And how he'd missed this…the book she'd given him as a joke after their first date had lost the final lingering hint of her fragrant aroma last week…
Regaining control of his lungs, he slowly straightened up and searched for the one face he needed to see, hoping he would find that same ache and longing echoing back.
Their noses brushed as he turned to face her, and she started to withdraw—but he stopped her by grasping her neck with his left hand, tracing her jaw with his thumb. Her lips nearly imperceptibly parted, but he focused on her eyes, those beautiful twin brown irises. They were brimming and swirling, resembling warm pools of chocolate and hazelnut. And suddenly the flakes of gold glistened and shone and danced.
That was all he needed.
Without any thought or care that there were spectators in the room with them—and that he was fighting to stave off another round of coughs—Draco threaded his fingers into her silky chestnut curls at the nape of her neck and pressed a kiss to her lips, her nose and then her forehead. His heart sang as Hermione released a watery laugh and pressed her forehead to his.
In the background, Theo laughed triumphantly and boisterously welcomed Harry and Blaise into the room, the Healer began clucking over potions she needed to administer, and his mother excused herself to procure a large pot of tea and platter of buns and biscuits.
But neither Draco nor his witch gave any acknowledgement to the happenings in the hospital room. Hermione beamed as Draco held her close, determined that he would never let go of her again.