A.N./ This is my first fanfic, just a little fluffy Dramione oneshot. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, and even that barely exists!
This year was perhaps the hardest of her life, of anyone's life. With the war over, things felt surreal to Hermione, like after that hell and constant trepidation, nothing was quite real. The deaths only served to make things even stranger. Spending time at the Burrow was one of the only distractions in her life as the Weasleys were the closest thing to a family she had left.
Having been an only child with no aunts or uncles to speak of, and the only grandparents she can remember having passed on around the time of her fifteenth birthday, the Obliviate she'd cast on her parents was the final straw in terms of any relatives she'd have had. This only made her feel even more out of place, especially among the Weasleys. Not that they did it on purpose, of course. Molly and Arthur have always treated her and Harry as their sort of adopted children. However, the inside jokes and intense bonds the Weasleys shared with one another always served as a subconscious reminder that she wasn't actually family.
Holidays and birthdays, especially her own, always felt very forced with her there, like she was a puzzle piece that was not only trying to fit in an incorrect space, but was from an entirely different jigsaw puzzle as well.
The war had been over for a year and a half when she found herself in the wheat fields near the Burrow on one summer's day. With seven-now six- biological children coming and going, a set of parents, and a set of unofficially adopted siblings, the house, while large, if a bit disproportionate to the rest of it, tended to get a bit crouded, not to mention noisy. The only noises surrounding her now were the woosh of the wind through the wheat stalks and the gentle hum of the cicadas in the trees.
Hermione laid on her back, feeling the sun beat down on her face and with her eyes closed, for the first time in her life, thought of nothing. No continuous mental reorganizing of notes, no planning, or scheduling. For the first time in almost twenty years, she just was.
It was during this moment of quietly existing that her brief trance was broken and her concentration on not concentrating on anything was shattered. With her eyes closed she had seen the sun through the thin skin of her eyelids and sensing a shadow falling over her, she opened her eyes. Peering down at her, amidst the breeze and the swaying stalks, was none other than Draco Malfoy.
Well, she mused to herself, if you dwell on something long enough, it'll eventually come to you. Having been wondering what ever happened to him after the trial and subsequent imprisionment of his father, not to mention the hospitalization of his mother after the multi-decade long imperius curse had finally been broken from her battered mind, it was hard for her to not spend her afternoons lazily glancing out the window and pondering what had become of him.
Her private musings, however, were just that. Private. So that begged the question of what exactly the blond was doing out of her head and having materialized right in front of her? She blinked sleepily up at him as he towered over her prone figure. He too seemed to have been transfixed by something, maybe even by her, because the movement of her eyelids seemed to have forced him to recall how to move his own. With a slight shake of his head and the rapid blinking of his pewter eyes, he went from looming over her to crouching near her right shoulder. Her eyes never leaving his, she slightly turned her head as to better look at him. The new position of her skull, coupled with the summer breeze, sent a strand of her hair blowing towards his hand, which now rested on the ground, less than a foot away from her.
"Aunt Andromeda thought it'd be good for Teddy to visit his real family," a quiet voice suddenly whispered.
As Hermione absorbed his words, she also noted how utterly peculiar it was to hear Malfoy speak in anything less than a confident sneer.
"Molly always has loved babies," she noted with a dreamy quality to her voice that would rival Luna's. This exchange was followed by a brief moment of silence, save for the woosh and the hum. It didn't feel awkward, she noted, as she was used to feeling when in the midst of the gaggle of Weasleys and being the only one with nothing to say.
The pair sat in comfortable silence before she finally spoke again.
"So is that what you're doing now, reconnecting with lost family?"
Her words, while directed at him, only seemed to have an effect on him once her gaze settled upon him. His eyes locked on her, her appeared to consider her question before finally speaking.
"Well, the family I'd always know hadn't exactly turned out the way I'd hoped for, so I figured it'd be best to try with something new, some someones who hadn't been everything I never wanted to be." His words, unlike in their schooldays, had no trace of malice or irritability in them, just brutal honesty.
"If you like, we could be your family as well," he added, almost as an afterthought, "seeing as you seem to be in need of some. Family, that is. In need of some family."
His words, stumbled on themselves and a bit rushed, were accompanied by an ever growing tint of pink to his pale cheeks. She once more considered him before finally patting the spot next to her. Without much thought into the gesture, he laid out next to her, both of their gazes trailing to the blue sky above, riddled with hazy cumulus clouds.
"Back when I had a family, summers were always our favorite," she muttered quietly.
"Father always seemed happiest when the weather was nice," he mildly agreed. With the wind gently blowing on them, it wasn't long until the duo fell asleep.
Several hours later, haven woken up groggy and unsure of her surroundings, Hermione glanced around to find herself alone in a wheat field, about a kilometer away from the Burrow. The strange conversation floated from the recesses of her memory as she got up and floated back towards the house. As soon as she was within earshot, the drone of laughter and chatter came rushing back to her. She had almost made it into the house when she noticed a lone figure sat near the door.
He glanced up at her through his pale lashes, impossibly long in the setting sunlight.
"You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you," he offered as a hushed explanation. She looked at him for a moment, studying the way the setting sun played tricks on his pale face, making him seem softer, gentler. With a soft sigh she sat next to him, almost purposefully pressing her side to his. From the quiet hitch in his breathing, he'd noticed her calculated move. Deliberately, he slowly placed his hand on her knee before raising his head and meeting her eye.
The house was still loud, the laughter still aplenty, but the air around Hermione and Draco had a certain hush to it, as if the very space around them realized how holy and pure this moment between the two of them was. In the way that a true gentleman does, he made the first move. With the glow of the house behind them illuminating them and the clamor of their pseudo family in the background, Draco leaned over ever so slowly and brushed his lips over hers in one, two, three soft strokes.
They pulled apart to look at one another and for once, Hermione felt like she had found her true family.
The moment was short lived as the door behind them swung open to reveal Andromeda holding a wailing Teddy in her arms.
"Hello, Hermione, love," she greeted the younger witch cheerfully, "I'd love to stay longer, but Teddy here is more than ready for bed!"
Hermione chuckled softly to herself, waving goodbye to the older woman as Draco slowly rose from beside her. She glanced at him, wondering what his next move would be. As her chocolate eyes settled on him, a flush spread to his cheeks as he glanced away and then back to her.
"Knowing Aunt 'Meda, she'll most likely be back tomorrow. She hates to have her visits cut short." He cleared his throat before finally looking her in the eye once more.
"I'll be seeing you then," he said, a not quite questioning tone in his voice. She gave a knowing nod, understanding that he too was unwilling to forget their afternoon together.
As he whisked away from her, almost as if he was afraid he'd change his mind and turn back, she thought of what a strange evening it had been and how even stranger it was that family could be found, much like light, if one was simply willing to look for it.
The next afternoon, she found him asleep in the wheat.
