Disclaimer: All characters are property of J.K Rowling. I am only borrowing them.
Draco Malfoy had never imagined he would find himself following in the footsteps of Severus Snape and turning spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He is a brilliant spy, until his cover is blown and he is forced to hide out in an Order safehouse, with nothing to do but brew potions all day and try not to kill the members who don't see that he might have changed. Everything is going mostly okay, until Hermione Granger turns up.
This story is a one-shot. Some smut. Shouldn't have any triggers, apologies if there are.
Reviews and criticism welcomed as I haven't written in a while and think I might be a bit rusty!
Draco Malfoy put the stopper in the last bottle of pepper up potion and wiped a strand of matted hair from his forehead. The basement of the Order safehouse where he was living smelled strongly of peppermints and was at a temperature that made working in clothing an inconvenience. If it wasn't for the risk of burns he would have taken off his shirt and worked topless, but he had to settle for rolling his sleeves up and unfastening the top buttons, promising himself a long draught of iced pumpkin juice when he was done with this batch. Kreacher pushed open the door to the basement, and shuffled in, looking at Draco balefully. He had never been able to shake the feeling that the house elf disapproved of his betrayal of the Black family, but unlike the others he shared the safe house with Kreacher was forced into silence by Potter's orders.
"Those are finished, Kreacher. If you could see that they get to Madam Pomfrey." Malfoy gestured to the cluster of vials at the end of his workspace.
The house elf handled each one as if they were a Decoy detonator, and disappeared, closing the door with a snap behind him. Draco wandlessly cleaned his cauldron and began to tidy up the left over ingredients.
He liked working in the basement of the safehouse, and potions were something he had always understood. He liked that while he could measure the same ingredients a dozen times and blend a perfectly good potion, if he was just willing to push the boundaries he could improve on what he already knew. The Order had been quick to find out about his skill at potions - he had a feeling Potter had something to do with that. He had even scored higher than Granger on some of Snape's assessments, and although he knew Snape had been ridiculously biased when it came to the Gryffindors, he knew he had talent. Since he was no longer able to fulfil his original assignment for the Order, he would take potion brewing in the basement over interaction with any of the others he shared the safehouse with any day. The one exception to the rule was quick to make an appearance, as if sensing he had finished his work for the day.
George Weasley had aged a dozen years since his twin had been killed at the Battle of Hogwarts, but Draco had a feeling that he didn't look so good himself. All of them went out of their way to avoid catching sight of their appearance - they all knew what they would find. Emaciated faces, exhausted eyes and a lack of hope that things were going to get better. The war seemed to be spiralling into unknown territory and for every step the Order took forwards, the Death Eaters forced them five back.
"Hey Malfoy. Fancy a drink?" George was clutching a bottle of Ogdens wine, his eyes had the hazy look of somebody who had already started drinking.
Malfoy nodded, and found two clean beakers. George had been sleeping with Alicia Spinnet but she had left that morning on a mission. No further details had been forthcoming. They didn't know where she was going, or if there was a chance she would come back. George filled the beakers with a healthy measure of wine.
"You know you can help me down here, it might help take your mind off of things." Draco offered. George was staring glumly at the equipment that littered the basement counter tops.
"Never been much good at potions."
"You were good at charms. Why don't you offer your services to Kingsley?"
George shook his head, topping up his beaker and sinking another healthy draught of wine. He was swaying unsteadily.
It had been an odd friendship, one that Draco Malfoy would never have thought possible. Out of all the Weasley's he had always had a grudging admiration of the twins, especially during Umbridge's reign of terror at Hogwarts. He would have liked to cause half the havoc they did, but his father had been adamant that he stick as close to Umbridge as he could. She was the 'right sort of people.'
Draco had turned spy for the Order of the Phoenix on his seventeenth birthday, the night after the Golden Trio had been captured and brought to his home. He had been branded with the Dark Mark by then and had already killed one muggle. He had been asked to confess everything he had done to Professor McGonaghall and Remus Lupin, who had been placed in charge of discovering whether his offer was sincere or whether he was working for the Dark Lord. Professor McGonaghall was a surprisingly adept legilimens but she had never revealed the one secret Draco Malfoy had never told anybody within the Order. Not even the man growing steadily drunker across from him knew that Draco Malfoy had risked everything for the sake of a girl. A girl who would never look at him, never see him the way he saw her.
"I should have told her I loved her." George suddenly piped up, voice muffled as his head was currently resting on the counter.
"Do you?" Draco asked, curious. George and Alicia had been ridiculously casual about their arrangement; the only person they hadn't spoken about it in front of was Mrs Weasley. Nobody in their right mind spoke about the casual arrangements that had sprung up in the safe houses around Mrs Weasley.
Draco had had invitations, of course. He was an attractive man and most had accepted that his loyalty now lay with the Order. After all, now Dolohov had blown his cover as a spy, Voldemort wanted to kill Draco as much as he wanted to kill anybody else sheltering with the Order of the Phoenix.
He had accepted only once, from a girl who had been working as an Order liaison for South America. Her name had been Alana, she had been beautiful and smart with an extensive knowledge of herbology and she had been staying in Britain for only three days. Long enough for each of them to use the other for their own needs, then move on with no hard feelings. She had been killed a month ago, caught by Snatchers.
"I think I do. How can you tell when the people you fuck might be the ones that end up dead at any moment? It makes you think that everything has to be the grand gesture." George slurred, knocking his beaker to the floor. Draco quickly repaired it. "I wish I could master wandless magic."
Draco scowled at George, and motioned for him to stand up.
"You could master wandless magic if you really tried. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for."
George waved Draco's comment away but dutifully stood and allowed Draco to support him from the basement, through the safehouse and up to his bedroom in the attic. The house was much the same layout as Grimmuald Place although that safe house had been compromised not long after Dolohov had blown Draco's cover; it transpired that Mundungus had traded information for his life and had been duly kicked out of the Order. He worked as a Snatcher now, although from the accounts Draco had heard, not a very good one. He saw George settled on his bed, then made his way back down the house towards the kitchen.
He stopped outside the door, surprised at the raised voices coming from within. He pushed the door open tentatively and froze when a furious pair of brown eyes whirled to face him.
"Oh, its you." Hermione Granger turned her back on him and resumed hissing angrily at Ron. Draco took her statement to mean that he wasn't being thrown from the kitchen and moved to the magically charmed refrigerator and poured himself a tall glass of pumpkin juice.
"Hermione, can we not do this here?!" Ron exploded angrily, causing Draco to slop some pumpkin juice down his front.
"Oh, don't be so silly Ron! Draco has been cleared by everybody from Kingsley downwards. This isn't Hogwarts!"
"You don't have to remind me of that." Ron retorted, glaring angrily at Draco over Hermione's shoulder. Draco didn't think it was a particularly good time to ask about Potter so he let himself out of the kitchen and made his way to his own room.
At first the Order had insisted he share a room. That was how he and George had become friends, but after months without incident he was finally granted the privilege of his own room. It had been particularly hard to keep his infatuation with the girl in the kitchen below secret from a Weasley whose particular skill set meant he was able to blackmail any of the Order members he required anything from. Somehow nobody had ever worked out that Draco Malfoy had a thing for the golden girl, despite his inability to speak to her without insulting her.
He sank onto his bed and pulled an old potions textbook towards him, dribbling ink on his quilt as he made notes in the margin, and tried not to think of the girl below him, closer than she had been in months.
Dinner that night was a subdued affair. It turned out Potter had made the decision to continue without the assistance of his two companions and they were not taking the news well. Kingsley had dropped past the safe house to assure the Order members that Potter was safe but when Hermione and Ron had pressed him for Potter's whereabouts the man had kept silent. Now Hermione and Ron sat at opposite ends of the table and didn't look up from their dinner.
The next morning found Draco in the basement, nursing a monstrous hangover. He had been unable to sleep and had eventually joined George in the kitchen where they had drank a bottle of firewhiskey with Dean Thomas, who had just returned from a mission in France. Draco was setting up his cauldron, wishing he hadn't been so hasty at sending the Pepper up potions onto Madam Pomfrey when a knock came at his door.
"Come in." The door opened tentatively and the vial Draco was holding almost slipped from his fingers. Hermione stood, sleep tousled and dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and leggings, looking at him apprehensively. Draco's throat was suddenly dry as a bone. He waved a hand and watched her step into the lab and shut the door with his heart hammering in his throat.
If George could see me now he'd die of laughter.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Granger? Don't think I've ever seen you in this part of the house."
"George said I'd find you down here." she replied, watching with interest as he tipped the vial's contents into his cauldron, before he had another chance to drop it.
"Here I am." he replied, annoyed at the acid in his voice but unable to prevent it. This was his coping mechanism, the only way he knew to keep Granger away from him when it was the last thing he wanted. If he started being nice to her, she might start to think he had changed and be nice to him in return. Then he would start to hope. No, far safer to pretend that he had changed his mind about the side he wanted to fight on, but not about her.
"You're the best potion brewer the Order has. I need your help." she stated, pushing herself onto one of the stools tucked on the other side of the counter. He tried not to look at how her sweater hinted at the curves beneath, especially when she leaned over to look into his cauldron and the neck draped open enough for him to see a hint of cleavage. If he hadn't known better he might have said she was trying to seduce him.
"Alright Granger, what do you want?"
He was sure that this could get him kicked out of the Order. Kingsley had been insistent that Harry had his reasons for going on alone and had delivered the same line each time he visited the safe house. Draco guessed that Ron and Hermione's pestering were part of the reason his visits had tailed off recently.
He made his way up the house with as much confidence as he could muster, praying not to meet anybody on the stairs. That would only lead to awkward questions. He had never been to Hermione's bedroom; she was one of the few Order member's who held a permanent bedroom within the safe house. When he was invited in, he suddenly understood why. The place was filled with books. There were piles of them on the floor, beside the bed, on the windowsill. He imagined there were probably books in the bathroom.
"Jesus, Granger. What did you do, raid Hogwarts before you came here?"
To his surprise, she smiled sheepishly at him; Draco's heart began an odd dance in his chest.
"Have you got it?" she muttered hopefully, moving towards him and bringing the overwhelming scent of vanilla with her. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a simple blouse, but her eyes were exhausted and red rimmed. Somebody had told him that the budding relationship that had almost existed between Ron and Hermione had fizzled out. He had had to work his hardest to keep the smile from his face.
He dug into his pocket and drew out a small vial. She took it from him, fingers brushing his accidentally.
"It's not 100% accurate. They've never been able to make them accurate so try not to get your hopes up too much." he cautioned as he made his way to her door.
"Draco, thank you."
It was the first time she had ever said his name.
The news reached them a few days later. Dean Thomas was dead. He had been found outside a muggle village, struck by a dozen curses. He had been left for the Order to find, and the Death Eaters had almost taken out a few of the retrieval party.
Draco had raised a glass with the others in the kitchen, then made his way to his room. Sometimes being house bound had its advantages, but if it hadn't been for his ability at potion making he knew the Order would have let him loose by now. What use was an ex-Death Eater that brought them nothing but a drain on already limited resources?
He was just starting to enjoy his copy of Water Plants and their uses in Potion making when a tentative knock came at his door. He missed his wand most in moments like this, but pushing himself from his bed he opened the door a crack and tried to conceal his surprise at the person in the corridor. Hermione Granger was standing at his door.
"Can I come in?" she whispered, glancing up and down the corridor. Draco wordlessly pushed open the door and let her in. She cast a curious look at his bedroom and Draco was very glad that he had been raised by a mother who expected him to keep his room clean and neat. At Malfoy Manor, the house elves had helped but in the safe house he was quite happy to clean up after himself. It made the small room feel more his own.
"Have a seat." he said, then realised there was nowhere for Granger to sit but on his bed. The thought threatened to spiral into unwanted territory and he quickly cleared his book onto the nightstand and took a seat at the top of the bed, as far away from Granger, who was perched awkwardly at the end, as it was possible to get.
They sat in silence for so long that Draco was starting to fidget. Hermione was staring glassily at the opposite wall, seemingly unaware of his presence.
"Alright, Granger, what are you doing here?" he finally asked. She jumped and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Draco felt a sick twisting in his guts.
"It's my fault. I asked Dean to check out the location the potion returned. I figured Harry might talk to somebody that wasn't me or Ron. I sent him into a trap."
Draco stared at her, speechless.
"You couldn't have known that, Granger. And Dean agreed. He knew what he was doing."
"I sent him out to die. It should have been me."
Draco put a tentative hand on her shoulder as she began to sob uncontrollably, wondering why she had came to find him. If anybody was to blame, it was him. He had provided her with the potion, knowing it wasn't 100% accurate, knowing that the location it gave could be tampered with.
"What happened with Potter? Why did he go on alone?"
Hermione hiccoughed and looked up at him.
"I don't know. He read something in one of the books Dumbledore gave him and then, next morning he was gone."
"That's why you have all the books? You're trying to find out what he learned?"
Hermione nodded again, a small smile breaking through her tears.
"You know, I never realised how smart you were in school." she suddenly turned to face him, peering at him intently. Draco felt his cheeks colour. Eventually he shrugged.
"Nowhere near as smart as you." he teased, and for one beautiful moment Hermione Granger was laughing on the end of his bed.
"If I'm so smart, why can't I find him?" she finally muttered when she had stopped laughing.
She wished him goodnight not long after that, and although Draco wanted her to stay he kept silent and let her go.
She visited him not long after, in the basement, and asked if she could help him brew the potions the Order needed. He readily accepted, and a tentative friendship was struck between them. He knew she was looking for a way to escape the various tensions of the safehouse; he had heard her and Ron weren't speaking although nobody was forthcoming with why that was.
They worked in a comfortable silence most days. Her hair hadn't changed from the days at Hogwarts, where working over a hot cauldron had caused it to expand to a tangled, bushy mess. Draco often had to stop himself from fantastising about plunging his hands into it, holding her tight while he showed her the attention she deserved. She never seemed to notice that she was slowly driving him insane with the skimpier outfits she was wearing as the seasons outside the safe house changed and the air grew warmer. He no longer rolled up his sleeves as he worked, keeping his Dark Mark hidden.
He was beginning to think there was no chance Hermione Granger would ever see him the way he saw her, when George's birthday rolled around. For a few brief, blissful hours the safe house seemed to forget it was in the middle of a war as everybody enjoyed some of George's latest creations and a few stiff drinks that Remus Lupin had managed to procure. In the middle of the party Alicia Spinnet had arrived and that had been the last Draco had seen of George. He had had one more drink before ducking out of the noisy kitchen and making his way to his own bedroom, only to find somebody already there.
"Granger? What are you doing here?" he closed the door and leaned against it, trying to keep his cool and pretend that this kind of thing happened all the time. She shifted uncomfortably on the end of his bed, twisting her fingers together.
"I don't know." her voice was higher than normal, and she was looking anywhere but at him.
"Not enjoying the party?" Draco was scared if he stopped talking she would realise where she was and leave.
"Oh, it was fun, I guess."
"You miss Potter?"
She looked up at him in surprise, then nodded.
"I get it, Granger. I miss my family all the time." he shrugged. If he'd known that he was going to find somebody in his bedroom, he might have smuggled out some of the firewhiskey from the party below.
"Do you know where they are?"
Draco shook his head. He'd heard varying reports but none were ever concrete enough for the Order to work on. He knew rescuing a few ex-Death Eaters wasn't high on their list of priorities but he still found himself angry about it sometimes.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence until Draco felt himself growing frustrated.
What was she doing here, in his room, on his bed? If she wanted something why didn't she just spit it out? Did he have to be everybody's moral compass?
"Look Granger, I'm pretty tired." he gestured to the door and she leapt from the bed as if she'd been scalded. He started to undress before he heard the door open, the buzz of the firewhiskey wearing off.
"I want to have sex." the voice was so quiet that he almost missed it. He turned slowly, shirt half unbuttoned and stared at Hermione, who was staring at the floor hard enough to burn a hole through it.
"What?" Draco's tongue was glued to the top of his mouth, and he was sure his mind was playing tricks on him. There was no way Potter's golden girl was in his room asking him for sex.
"I thought, I mean if you want too, I'd like to." she mumbled, and when Draco didn't reply she started towards the door like a rabbit fleeing an eagle.
Draco grabbed her before she made the door, walking her backwards until her back hit the door and she let out a breathless gasp.
"I want to. But why me? There are dozens of guys in this house who would be happy to have you in their bed."
"Does that mean you're not one of them?" she muttered, staring at his chest.
"No, but I need to know why you want me."
"Because you treat me like a person, not as a means to an end." she replied, reaching up a finger to stroke the exposed skin of his chest. Draco's breath hitched and he reached a finger down to tilt her face towards him. He noted the nervousness of her gaze but when he leaned down to kiss her, she met him eagerly.
He took one of her hands and pinned it above her head as he kissed her, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and tangling it with hers. She was making the most delightful noises that were making it difficult for Draco to think. He couldn't let this pass quickly. Some part of him was sure he was still dreaming but then she fought her hand free and undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.
When her fingers stroked down his arms, he pulled away, instinctively wanting to cover the mark on his arm. But she was staring at it, and when she reached out to touch it, he found himself allowing her, shuddering at the contact.
"Fuck, Granger." he muttered beneath his breath when she leaned down to kiss it. His erection was straining against his trousers, and all he wanted to do was pick her up and fuck her every way he knew. She seemed to grow bold with his words, and pulled her t-shirt over her head. She discarded her simple pink bra and stood before him, looking resolutely over his shoulder. She let out a yelp when he picked her up and pushed her back into the door, rubbing his erection against her core.
He laved each of her breasts in turn, sucking on the nipples until they were tight and hard and Hermione's breathing was frantic. She was muttering 'please, please' beneath her breath but he was determined to make every second count.
When eventually they moved to the bed, she reached up and began to unbutton his trousers, pushing them insistently down his legs. He did the same with her own, pulling down the pink boy shorts she was wearing and staring at her pussy with such intensity that Hermione put her hands over her face.
"Fuck." he could only mutter as he began to kiss up her legs and then delved into her pussy, making her back arch off the bed as he stroked her clit with his tongue and teased her entrance with a finger. When he sank his finger into her, she was warm and wet and pulsing and he thought he was going to lose it.
She was moaning so loudly that he was sure they would be heard in the rest of the house but part of him didn't care. The girl he had been fantasising about having in his bed was writhing beneath his touch, on the brink of orgasm. When he pulled his finger out, the Granger he knew was glaring at him.
"Relax, Granger. I'm just getting started."
It didn't take long for the rest of the safe house to find out that Granger and Malfoy were hooking up. Of course it didn't help that George walked in on them in the basement when they were supposed to be working. But while she would frequently allow him to play out her fantasies, she never let him in on how she felt about him. He didn't want to pressure her so he kept silent as well, and went along with the casual arrangement, hating that each time they were finished she would exit his room like she was being chased from it.
He was working on a batch of Polyjuice when Remus Lupin sought him out. The man had aged a dozen years since the battle of Hogwarts that had taken his wife. It had almost killed him too but he had been lucky, although looking at him you wouldn't have thought he felt lucky.
"We have some news of your parents. We have been able to recover Lucius Malfoy from one of the internment camps."
Draco had stared at the man, stunned. He had almost accepted that he might never see his parents again, and now to be told that his father was safe with the Order, shook him.
"Would you like us to bring him here?" Lupin had finally asked when it seemed Draco was struggling for words. He had thought about it for a second then nodded.
Lucius Malfoy arrived at the safe house two days later, by portkey. He was skinnier than Draco had ever seen him with deep hollows beneath his eyes and the skin on his hands was cracked and bleeding. He had crumpled onto Draco when they had been reunited and despite the years Draco had spent questioning his feelings about the man before him, he had hugged him back just as tightly. He hadn't noticed Hermione hovering in the doorway. She was gone by the time he looked up.
A week went by and Hermione stopped coming to the basement, and stopped visiting Draco's rooms. He knew why but it was still painful. He had always let her set the boundaries when it came to their arrangement; after all, she had been the one who wanted casual. His father had been moved not long after arriving when it emerged that he had some curse damage that, if left untreated, could become fatal.
Draco's potions list had only expanded with his father's rescue from the internment camp. They had managed to rescue a few others on the mission and he was brewing potions that had never been covered at Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey was praising him to the skies but Draco couldn't enjoy it. He missed Granger. He missed the way her hair spread across his pillow, how she would squirm when he went down on her and how she was unashamedly noisy when it came to her pleasure.
It was midnight on a Tuesday and Draco knew he wasn't going to sleep. He put his book on his nightstand and rose from his bed as silently as he could. Hermione's bedroom was on the other side of the house but he could no longer let her call the shots. Not if he didn't have the chance to say how he felt first.
She answered the door on his first knock, pulling him quickly into the room when they heard a noise in the corridor.
"Hi." she muttered, pushing hair out of her eyes. She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of pyjama trousers that were too big for her. Draco had never seen her look so beautiful. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to ask you something." Draco leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to resist the urge to kiss her.
"What?"
"Was it just casual to you?"
She looked surprised by the question and stared at him.
"Well, wasn't it to you?" she finally retorted, crossing her own arms and giving him a fiery look.
"Don't turn this on me, Granger. I asked you a question."
"I don't know, ok." she finally muttered, sinking onto her bed and pushing a book out of the way. It landed with a dull thump on the floor. "How do you feel?"
"I don't want casual, not with you." he replied without hesitation. If he didn't say what he wanted now, he never would. "I want everything. I want your good days and your bad, I want to know every little thing that happened to you in a day. I want you in my bed in the morning. Or me in yours. I'm not too bothered about what bed."
Hermione was staring at him, her mouth slightly open.
"Well?" Draco finally snapped. This was new territory for him. At Hogwarts, it had always been girls chasing him. It made him feel extremely vulnerable to be laying everything out and having her looking at him blankly.
"What does that mean? Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" she finally questioned.
Draco ran a hand through his hair and nodded. He didn't get a verbal answer but her kiss was answer enough.