Standing in line, waiting for my cuppa, I pondered my next move in the ever constant battle that was getting new Werewolf legislation passed. I had had yet another extremely long, disappointing day. Why couldn't those old-fashioned, manky gits not understand how important this was? Why could they not come to grips with the fact that, despite what they thought, Werewolves were people too? At least, for all but approximately four to eight days a month depending on the number of full moons in that given month. That was still a lot of days where they were just people like the rest of us. People looking for jobs, people dating, finding spouses, having children. Normal things really.
I should have known I would be fighting an uphill battle. The Wizengamot was full of misogynistic old men and bigoted old women who weren't willing to change. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't see myself getting this thing passed. Yet still, I tried. I had to, for more reasons than I could admit. I was just...getting frustrated. Too many long nights, not enough sleep, canceled appointments, brush-offs. I was ready to scream.
Breathing deeply to calm myself, I took in all the smells. The bitterness of the beans, the sweet scent of the cinnamon and other spices used in the various pastries in the display, the varied scents worn or secreted by the Muggles around me, and something else. Something that snagged my attention and put me on high alert. I couldn't quite figure out why it alone had caught my notice and held it. It was most curious.
I glanced around, wondering if maybe I could put a person to the deliciousness. Imagine my surprise when I spied a familiar head of blond hair sat at a corner table, grey eyes watching the people passing by as long, thin fingers absentmindedly tore apart the blueberry muffin in front of him. I hadn't seen much of Draco Malfoy in the five years following the war. It actually surprised me to see him there, in the heart of London surrounded by Muggles of all things.
If anyone would wear the rich, dark mixed blend of frankincense, patchouli, amber, and sequoia wood, it would be him. What can I say, I have a way with smells. That was my little secret, the main reason as to why I was so determined to change the mindset about Werewolves. No one knew about the confrontation I'd had with a particularly nasty one named Silas Crump. I was simply trying to ask him about his take on Wolfsbane and if he felt he would more readily take it if it was more accessible and affordable. I was being pushy, I knew that. I should have known better. Thankfully it was not a full moon.
The long, deep scars on my abdomen were a very real reminder that werewolves were dangerous, no matter how friendly, and that one must be ever cautious when dealing with them. Still, it hadn't stopped me. I merely took my meat on the rawer side now and had a much more heightened sense of smell and hearing, like Bill Weasley and Lavender Brown. We might have formed our very own club, if I were willing to tell anyone about what had happened. I wasn't, I didn't want them to blame Silas when I was as much at fault as he.
I was startled out of my reverie when my name was called. Peeling my eyes away from Malfoy, I moved to take my to-go cup and headed toward the door, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the forlorn look in his eyes, maybe it was my ever-present need to fix things, maybe it was simply that I wanted to bask in that delicious scent just a little longer. Whatever it was, I felt my feet moving in his direction before my mind had registered the fact I was going to do so.
He glanced in my direction for the barest of seconds but I could still see the wariness within the silver orbs and my heart ached. "Granger. To what do I owe this honor?"
"Mind if I sit down?"
He refused to turn from looking out the window, which I found a bit rude, but the rise of the corner of his mouth gave him a charming quality I hadn't ever paid much attention to. It was hard to really focus on the person calling you a Mudblood for nearly seven years, unless you were focusing on all the ways to punch him for it. After the war, well... he'd sort of disappeared into the ether. No one knew where he had gone until he'd shown back up about a year later and had taken over his father's company.
He kept to himself in a sort of...self-imposed exile. He didn't hang out with people, barely said two words to a soul. Refused interviews and only showed up to the galas he couldn't avoid. No one knew anything about him anymore. Gone was the boy who had loved to be the center of attention, replaced by a man that hid from the world. The feeling of loss was strange to me, to say the least.
Brushing it off, I watched him watching the people. "Would it stop you if I said yes?"
He knew me all too well. "Of course not."
He rolled his eyes, "then why even ask me?"
I couldn't stop the light laugh. "I was just trying to give you some semblance of choice, Malfoy. I figured you'd appreciate that. So, why are you sitting here in the corner of a Muggle coffee shop like you're trying to hide from the world? Is this more of your self-imposed exile?"
"What do you care? I bet you, Perfect Potter, and The Weasel just love it. Draco Malfoy all meek and mild and in hiding."
My head tilted at the not so hidden anger I heard in his voice. "Draco, the war has been over for nearly five years. Surely you can't think..."
He turned his head then, his eyes meeting mine straight on; they widened slightly. As our eyes met, it was as if the world stopped. Everything around me dulled as he came more sharply into focus. It was as if everything but him ceased to exist.
I heard the sharp gasp from the toffee haired witch across from me as our eyes met, but nothing else. All my attention, all of my thoughts, were focused on her. Just her. Fuck, I should have known! But then, how would I have? I'd kept myself away from everyone and everything since the incident.
"Draco, do you feel it too?" Her voice was breathless, soft, enticing.
My words got caught in my throat as I thought of the ramifications of what I was feeling. Had I truly found my mate? How had I not realized it in all these years?
Because you've not been around her in all these years, knobhead.
A tingle of awareness raced down my spine. I felt it in a heated rush, the desire, the need to claim. Everything in me screamed to take her, right here on this little table in a Muggle coffee shop, in the middle of London. Everything.
I could hear her heart racing, smell her desire. She wanted it just as much as I did.
"What is happening? Why am I feeling this way?"
"Come with me." I stood quickly, my skin on fire as I took her wrist and guided her from the shop and into the darkened alley beside it, where I Apparated us to my home. She stumbled but righted herself quickly and looked around, her eyes curious as she took in her surroundings.
"I can smell you everywhere, we're in your home aren't we?"
"Yes."
"Why did you bring me here, Malfoy?"
My mouth opened, ready to tell her all of it, but I paused. No one knew, no one could. I was terrified that I would be hunted down like the beast I had become. A former Death Eater turned Werewolf? People would panic. Even after all these years, the stigma followed me. I was dark, dangerous, could fall back on my old ways at any moment. The wolf within me was good at picking up the whispers.
Yet she deserved to know. Dammit, I couldn't keep this from her, not now. So I told her everything.
Why I had disappeared for that year after the attack, why I had kept myself in a sort of exile these last four years—never socializing unless I had to, never giving interviews despite my various successes.
"When I'm not at my company, I spend my time here as far away from civilization as I can manage. I down Wolfsbane every full moon and close myself into the specially made safe room I fashioned to keep me in and everything and everyone else out. It was my own fault really. I should have known when they didn't catch him with the first wave of escaped Death Eaters right after the Battle at Hogwarts, that Greyback would come for me. He'd always blamed my family for his humiliation that night at the Manor, when you three escaped. Voldemort punished all responsible but was particularly hard on the Snatchers that had brought you lot to us. They weren't nearly as important as those of us Marked, after all."
She'd taken a seat in the large green armchair by my fireplace, eyes following me as I paced. I held my breath as I finished my tale, worried over her reaction. "So Greyback hunted you down after the battle and attacked you?"
"It took him about a week, but yes."
"Well, I figured it must have done, since you're telling me you're a full wolf and I know the moon wasn't full until about a week after the battle."
I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling. "Must you be such a know-it-all all the time?"
She merely smirked. "So what?"
"What do you mean?"
"What did you do? Surely you can't expect me to believe you didn't seek some form of revenge."
My lips curled up, "I had hoped, despite how much we hated each other, that you might know me a bit better than that. I hunted him down, of course. We fought, I won and I handed him over to the proper authorities. Led them to believe I had taken him by surprise. Any ravings from him about my new creature status would be considered the ravings of a lunatic and would not be taken seriously."
"Quite cunning of you." I merely quirked a brow. "Can I see them?"
Well wasn't that surprising. "If you insist."
Attuned to everything around me, I could smell her reaction as I began to disrobe. I could hear her heart begin to race once more. I could see the way her even breaths became quick and ragged. I knew the moment she saw the scars along my right shoulder and down my chest where Greyback had mauled me.
She moved, tentatively, and traced those scars. I couldn't stop the shiver. It felt exquisite. When she stepped back, I hated the feeling of loss. So imagine my surprise when she began to remove her own shirt.
Creamy shoulders were bared to my gaze, soft swells had me hard in all the right places, was it any wonder that it took me more than a few moments to see her own scars? Deep gouges from her right hip to her left, straight across her abdomen. "What the fuck?"
"His name was Silas. It wasn't a full moon. I am not a Werewolf. It was mostly my fault so I have never said a word to anyone. You know what would happen if I told Ron or Harry, they'd hunt him down. I didn't want that."
"You never cease to amaze me, Granger. Someone hurts you, and instead of wanting justice, you want him kept safe. Bloody Gryffindor."
"Not everyone deserves to be hunted down. Silas is not Greyback. He lashed out in frustration and anger because I pushed too far. He didn't attack me with malice and intent. So can you really blame me?"
"No, I suppose I can't."
You'd think the two of us standing there half naked would be awkward; it was anything but. Now that I knew what had happened, my mind went back to how beautiful she looked. The scars didn't take away a thing. I could feel my wolf battering at the tight leash I kept on him, needing to claim her.
"What now, Draco."
My given name on her lips undid me. I launched myself at her, grabbing a handful of hair at the nape pf her neck so I could tilt her head at just the right angle for my lips. The remainder of our clothes went flying and before either of us could grasp the reality of what was to come, I'd sheathed myself inside her.
The virginal tightness of her body was all that stopped me from ravaging her. Her hands lightly traced my spine as I held myself still so I wouldn't hurt her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away."
"It's alright, I understand. One tends to learn a lot about Werewolf mating behaviors when she's researching. You couldn't help yourself. Now, are you going to fuck me or not?"
"Such a delightfully dirty mouth you have their, Hermione."
With that, I began to move. With my release, I bit her. Staking my claim for all to see. She clenched around me, crying out in ecstasy, finding her own release. After, we moved to the bed for round two.
The next morning, the sun filtered in through the window and I watched the dust motes dance. "Stay with me?"
She rolled over to face me, cupping my cheek gently with her hand. "Always," she whispered, making the beast within roar.
FIN
A/N: Iunno what happened here. I did not mean to turn this into a Werewolf theme at all. Lol. This was supposed to be a coffee shop trope from the Dramione Fanfiction Writers group on Facebook. That was it, that was all. Oh well...