Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction now, would I?
Ducks.
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Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
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"No, Granger. I am absolutely not fucking going."
"For Merlin's sake, Draco," she said, and it took everything in her not to laugh at him, at Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of the sidewalk. his brows furrowed, his face pale and his fists clenched. "It's just a quick trip to the park. The weather's gorgeous today,just come take a quick stroll with me around the pond-"
"No." he spat, his arms crossed while his eyes darted through and fro alleyways and streets, cafes and supermarkets, refusing to meet his eyes. "They are there. Those bloody,disgusting creatures who lurk in the water-"
Hermione sighed at him and accidentally let a laugh slip out of her as she tilted her head back. "What creatures, Draco? There aren't 'disgusting, bloody creatures at the park'; the muggle government wouldn't allow it, nor would the Ministry! You're being ridiculous, Draco. Now, come-"
He ran a his fingers through his white blonde hair, which Hermione promptly smoothed back down and hid a smile as Draco scowled at her.
"You don't understand. Granger! They're everywhere, and you lot think they're so fucking cute-"
"I still have no idea on what you're talking about, Draco."
He gave her a look of frustration, and hastily pulled her into an empty corner, pressing her against the wall.
Hermione felt blood rise to her cheeks, felt her heart pounding against her chest.
How come every time they stood like this, she-for some reason or the other- felt time shift, felt her throat retract and her pulse beat painfully above the edge of her jaw?
Why was it that every time he was this close to her, so close that there was no space at all, that she forgot to breathe?
When had it began? Maybe when Draco had met her at an apartment and they stayed for hours there, not talking, just staring in silent solitude at the fogged glass; when he called her back afterwards, asked if she would want to share the apartment and just be like they were a few moments earlier; silent and unspeaking and somehow connected, blocked from the world beneath the windows that was spinning and revolving too quickly that Hermione couldn't hold on to anything.
"Truce," Draco had said, extending his hand.
She had hesitated, saw the past of wands and blood and uttered mudbloods, of Draco on the Astronomy Tower, his wand shaking.
But still, Hermione had seen something when she first bumped into him at the empty apartment, something in his eyes that said that he was different.
The times had changed. He had changed.
"Truce," she had said, the word strange and unfamiliar on her tongue.
Hermione didn't know yet, that in the future he would catch her eye and she would feel the blood rush to her cheeks, that his touch would make her shiver, that looking at him would cause a lurch in her chest and that still the lines between friend and enemy and ally and lover would be so blurred...so blurred to the extent that she couldn't tell what they were.
A shouted Granger snapped her back to reality.
"What,Draco?"
"You know what they are, those foul, evil creatures that are always near muggle parks, walking around as if no one knows their true demeanor, behind those feathers and-Merlin forbid- that fucking-"
"The park isn't awful, Draco. There are not evil creatures lurking behind ponds! Honestly, I really can't believe the person that told you that-"
"I saw them for myself, Granger."
She sighed and tilted her head up to look at him, her lip quivering slightly.
Fuck.
Manipulation. From Granger.
If she thought he would give in, she was a bloody-
"Fine. Ten minutes," he said, cursing himself under his breath.
Why did he always have to fucking give in?
"If you take more then those precious minutes that I have graciously given you, you will suffer painful consequences, Granger."
Hermione nodded at him. "Thank you, Draco."
And with that, she stuffed her hands in her muggle attire and walked forward, a smile creeping up her face.
There must be something wrong with her, he thought. Or else why would his breath stop when she leaned closer and he catched a whiff of apples and coffee, sweet and bitter and-was that possible-...refreshing?
Or why the fuck would he always give in to those brown eyes staring at him- a thousand flecks of color swirling; gold and yellow and the color of chocolate.
Just, Why?
Draco watched her stop in her tracks and turn towards him, gesturing for him to follow.
And he did, begrudgingly.
…
When Draco saw the first one, he screamed and scared away a crowd of muggle children pushing and tugging on the water's edge to get a better look.
Hermione's heart stopped.
Draco.
"What's wrong?"she breathed, pushing past the muggles that had stopped in their tracks to see the peculiar boy with the blonde hair backing away at the creature panic-stricken.
"Draco?" she called, the desperation clear in her voice as she finally pushed past the muggles that were blocking him and saw him.
She blinked.
There was Draco, standing and staring fearfully at the creature who gave him a look and walked away, or rather waddled away.
Hermione gave Draco a baffled look and he gritted his teeth, his hands reaching his pockets for his wand. "That creature...that bloody monster…."
Realisation dawned, and the Gryffindor raised her eyebrows.
"You are afraid of..."Hermione pointed to the creature, who was staring innocently back at her with wide black eyes. "..that?"
"Yes," he replied, slowly blacking away as she spoke. "That disgusting, evil mongrel…."
"Draco," Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. " Am I blind? Or is that a duck?A duck, Malfoy."
The duck stared sheepishly at her, and she couldn't help the laughter that was rising in her throat.
Draco Malfoy was afraid of a duck.
A duck!
"Yes," he inhaled sharply. "That monster-"
"Look at it, Draco! Look at those eyes-"
"-that are black and staring into the depths of your soul. Am I the only one who is not blinded by those revolting feathers-"
He broke off suddenly, because the duck had taken a look at Draco and waddled close to him.
Hermione smirked.
"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, YOU FOUL. EMOTIONLESS MONSTER, I-"
Crash. Hermione suppressed laughter as he backed away from the pond and crashed into a nearby tree.
"Fuck! SON OF A FUCKING BITCH! WHY THE FUCK ARE ALL THESE BLOODY TREES HERE?"
Hermione rushed over to him and helped him up, branches and leaves and-Hermione shuddered-black colored insects in his hair.
"Are you alright?"
The color drained from his face as he met her concerned gaze.
Never again. Never fucking again.
"Spiffing," Draco spat. "I've never been better-"
"Draco-"
"What, Granger?
The duck still lingered behind Draco, and Hermione was pointing at the creature furiously, but he didn't seem to notice.
The bloody idiot.
Before she could answer, he spun around abruptly and came face to face with the duck.
Draco went green, and he dashed through the park until finally he came to the entrance and stopped. panting, muggles staring strangely at him, at the twigs and the leaves and the who-knows-what stuck in his hair.
Granger. She would pay. She would fucking pay.
"Draco," a voice, soft and warm and familiar called out to him. "Maybe we should go home."
Granger, her cheeks flushed had rushed at him suddenly, a flash of orange and gold.
"I fucking hate muggle parks and…" he swallowed. "...those monsters."
"Ducks?"
He made a noise at the back of throat. "Don't-"
Hermione pretended to sneeze and laughed into her sleeve, before meeting his eyes. "Ducks. Really, Draco?"
"Says the person who is afraid of getting a grade lower than Outstanding," Draco smirked at her.
"So says the person who crashed into a tree."
He pushed her lightly and scowled. "Oh do shut the fuck up, Granger."
It had been days since the duck incident, in which Draco would walk out of the room conveniently whenever she brought it up, and London was wet and grey,as usual
The rain sloshed down from the clouds and had soaked her to the bone when she had stepped out of Diagon Alley and ran home before she could even cast a drying charm with her wand or open an umbrella.
Are you fucking thick? Draco had asked when she opened the door and he cast a quick drying spell on her, made her a cup of tea that she suspected he had added something to (for when Hermione took a sip, her ears began to smoke) and they had spent the rest of the afternoon lounging in the apartment; Hermione curling up the couch with a worn muggle novel that composed of a great, fiery eye atop a dark tower, and Draco studying a contract carefully, sitting beside her.
She then had sighed contently, stretching her arms until they poked Draco's.
"Sorry about that, Draco."
"Stop stretching, Granger, and I'll be fine."
Hermione smiled. They were composed of moments like these, of silence and accidental touches and careless words, and she tried to imagine another universe, in which she hadn't met Draco Malfoy at the empty apartment and she had lived instead with Ron, where she would be perfectly happy, but always missing something, something vital.
She would live, but that doesn't count as living at all, having dinner with Harry and Ginny, and in a few years, their children and laughing and talking about the past and their current jobs, or just being with Ron on weekends peacefully without bickering, at least not like they used to.
Draco was reckless and somewhat dangerous and...different.
Yet, he was the one that reminded her that she was alive, that blood was pulsing in her veins and that she could close her eyes and just jump, not being afraid of falling.
He was the only one who fully understood her, who comforted her by merely being there and not saying a word.
Being with Draco Malfoy was as easy as breathing. You basically just do it naturally, by inhaling and exhaling; yet it becomes difficult when you think about it intentionally.
She could lose herself with him, and she could let go of everything she once knew, only to find something fresh, something new.
The rain was barely a drizzle when they step out of Flourish and Blotts, and Hermione suggested that they just walk home, since she liked the feeling of rain, of coolness on her skin.
"I am not stopping by another bloody muggle park," he said, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Of course not."
She hid a smile at the memory of Draco crashing into the tree, cursing and spitting profanities.
They were strolling casually, talking about books (particularly the muggle novel with the eye on it, which Hermione explained carefully, Draco interrupting every ten seconds: What kind of name is Gandalf?) about the leak at the kitchen that they were both to lazy to fix, about what was for dinner and who was preparing it.
And then, suddenly he stopped.
The rain was shifting into a pour by now, and Hermione shuddered and pulled her robes closer to her body, turned to look at him.
"You know," he said, and he took a step closer to her, and she couldn't breathe, because they were so suffocating close. "You're the most decent person I know, Granger."
She sensed the familiar feeling of blood rising to her cheeks, felt her pulse pounding against the cave of her neck.
Hermione had known Draco Malfoy long enough to know that those words meant as much as an I love you, and that he was saying them to her now, while rain poured down and her curls fall out of her updo and stick to her face.
It was freezing, but somehow, she wasn't cold.
Draco hissed, an intake of breath between closed teeth and pulled out his wand, about to cast a drying spell on himself, but Hermione heard her voice( distant, somehow) suddenly as he pushed a strand of blonde fringe from his eyes.
"Don't."
Their eyes met for one faltering one second before Hermione stepped closer and the space between them closed, and there was nothing between them, no oxygen, no gravity, no air.
The rain was glistening and sparkling under the streetlights, falling in one straight line down onto her skin and him, falling between the them.
Hermione swallowed, hard, and ignored the heartbeat that she could feel all over her skin, feel his touch linger, hot and warm and familiar.
She needed him.
"Granger." his hoarse voice rang out, a barely audible whisper.
"Yes," she whispered back.
His lips latched onto hers in one swift motion and Hermione, now shivering at his touch, replied with all everything that she was, all the pent up emotions; silver eyes and accidental touches, whispered words and silence.
Her lips parted from lack of air, and Draco's tongue slipped in, hot and moist and desperate, darting across her mouth, her pulse quickening and her nails pressing against his skin, leaving red colored crescent marks that lingered.
They met, the hot breath a cloud of white mist in the cold air, mingling, melting into each other.
He tasted like rain, almost like clouds and the color grey, of the storm, recklessness and carelessness and sharpness; whispers and murmurs in the dark. Hermione felt a rush go through her and she let out a whimper that made his breath catch.
Her hand, freezing and pale, hand made its way onto his stomach, her ribcage pressing against it, and he hissed at her touch, at the friction between them.
"Fuck."
He inhaled her scent, vanilla and sugar and raspberries-the scent that he would catch a whiff of whenever she walked by, sweet and pure and somehow that hint of mischief that he could find behind her eyes.
He cursed again as her nails brushed the side of his neck, and he inhaled and they shifted places, but he couldn't ignore the sharp pain that came from below his waist.
It was his turn.
He slipped his hands from her hair and into her soaked robe, onto the small of her back and the black bra strap that was teasing him.
Draco smirked as she shuddered under his touch and let out another whimper, which he savoured in the back of his throat and caught her by the waist as he pulled away his lips and nipped the side of her jaw.
"Merlin!"
The world was now a blur, and Hermione caught on to the only thing that wasn't, the only thing that she could grab onto without being washed away by the current.
Draco. Draco. Draco.
"We need to get home," he whispered in her ear, the rain soaking his hair, which now looked ruffled and free and wild. "Granger."
She nodded, and not bothering to duck into a corner, she apparated them both with a resounding crack.
…
They arrived at the apartment, and Hermione first stumbled backwards into the side of the wall before being caught by Draco.
"Are you alright, Granger?" he asked, and Hermione blinked and suddenly saw the bulge on his soaked pants. She swallowed, felt her heart race.
"Fine, thank you."
"Good."
They collided and as he pulled out his wand and cast a drying spell on them both, Hermione felt warmness rush back to her fingertips, to the tips of her toes.
She exhaled and buried herself into his scent, as his tongue darted back and forth again, against the edge of the inside of her cheek, where it was scarred from her biting her flesh(a bad habit she never could give up).
She lost herself in his scent, which was addicting and mesmerizing, making the world blur again, the only thing of clarity- him- as he swept his tongue against her bottom lip and she responded with equal enthusiasm.
Hermione tugged her robe over her head, and it landed at the floor in a heap of cloth and scarlet.
She was bare now, save her bra and her underwear, and she felt somewhat vulnerable to him, standing at him in barely anything, and she closed her eyes, let her gaze wander.
He inhaled and stepped closer to her, pressed his lips against her skin, to the sensitive spot in her neck that elicited a whispered moan and a sharp intake of breath from Granger as she leaned into him, her hair falling and sticking to her face with sweat and droplets of rain, her mouth slightly parted.
She was so fucking beautiful.
Draco wondered if he had ever told her that, not that she was simply pretty or good-looking, but beautiful, but nothing came to his mind and instead he tugged off his own garments and shook them aside before closing his eyes and whispering. "Beautiful."
Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful.
Her breath hitched as he unhooked her bra and pulled down her knickers swiftly and she melted into him, into his scent, into his taste. Into him.
Draco. Draco. Draco.
She then smiled at him and tugged down his pants, leaving only his boxers, of which the bulge stood out for than ever, his desire reaching a peak, and he hissed violently as she pulled his boxers down and ran her fingers against his length, her hand cold, soft and comforting.
Granger.
Her shoulder blades cut into his flesh as she turned sideways, and she pushed away a strand of honey colored hair, liked her lips slightly.
He gave a sort of grimace and pulled them down, and Hermione could hear her heartbeats pounding against her chest sharply as her chest was pressed against his, skin against skin.
They were now bare now, stripped down until there was nothing left to hide.
no secrets, no lies, no oxygen.
Nothing.
And the night was young, the lights had only began to go up, and Hermione's eyes glistened as she pressed her lips against the crook of his neck.
There were unspoken words as they met again and Draco pulled her onto his bed. Silence.
Hunger was destroying his senses, need for her.
He needed her desperately, like air, like the gravity that pulled him towards the ground.
Without her, he couldn't breathe; without her, he suffocated.
He fucking needed Hermione Granger.
Fuck.
"Do you believe in alternate universes, Draco?" she had asked, one night when they were out with a bottle of red wine and two glasses, out on the patio, watching the stars shimmer.
"What, Granger?"
She shook her head at him, tilted her glass so wine spilled out and seeped into the floor. "Just if something had happened differently. For example, if I hadn't broken up with Ron and came to this apartment."
He smirked. "Like if Potter and Weasley weren't idiots in another dimension? Because I really can't imagine that, Granger-"
"Draco!" Hermione smacked him in the shoulder and he choked as he was about to lift the glass to his mouth. "Maybe I would've married Ron, and Harry would've married Ginny, and you would've married another Slytherin. Maybe like Astoria Greengrass, I heard rumours about you two a few years back."
Draco winced slightly at the thought, at Granger with Weasley in King's Cross with their children, and him watching them from a distance.
She sighed. "If maybe things went differently, I mean."
"Well," he said, taking a swig of wine, grimacing as it burned his throat. "They didn't, Granger."
"I know, just…."
He knew what she meant, of missed chances and that slight change of direction that would've changed everything and left them with different choices and different lives, a life without her.
He didn't say it (and he probably wouldn't )that he couldn't imagine a life without Granger, without drizzled rain and books and whispers, silence and unspoken words, and that he couldn't imagine another dimension without her presence, and that he would rather have one second of clarity with Granger than have a thousand vacant lives in different worlds.
Hermione closed her eyes, let the wind blow at her hair and nip at her skin until goosebumps rose.
She needed this-this one second of silence and confrontation before the reality of the world ruined it all, and she put her lips to the glass, took a sip of wine.
"You know," she said, Draco turning around to face her. "I need you, Draco."
He gave a slight smile. "I know."
And then there were no more words, because the silence was enough.
Falling in love, Hermione realised, was letting go of everything you once knew and falling, falling, falling and plunging into the ocean, the wind blowing at your cheeks and something always whispering, "Don't jump. Don't jump."
And then the ice cold water hits you, and air is suddenly cut off, your lungs stinging.
Only when you are used to the water, used to the coldness and the vastness, that you realise that everything was worth it.
12 years later.
Draco was awakened by the feeling of warm breath on his skin, and reluctantly, he opened his eyes.
"Shit!"
There was a pair of wide grey eyes staring back at him, and as realisation dawned he covered his mouth quickly. "Sorry, Scorp."
His son noded and a smile crept up his face. "Daddy said a bad word!"
Draco pressed a finger to the seven- year-old's lips. "Scorpius, shhh. Are you trying to get me in trouble with your mother?"
Scorpius smirked. Anyone would've thought that with Draco's sarcasm and Granger's intelligence and wit, Scorpius would've been a good combination of the two's flaws and advantages, but no, Scorpius Malfoy only accounted for a great amount of snark and sarcasm, which was a pain in the fucking arse.
Much like him, now that he'd come to think about it.
Scorpius handed him a package that was clumsily wrapped, and flashed him a dazzling smile. "Happy Birthday, Daddy! Me and Mummy picked out the gift just for you!"
Draco suddenly felt a surge of affection for his son, and he picked him up and ruffled his hair, pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"Thank you, my dear Scorp," Draco smiled, tickling Scorpius and watching his son break into a bout of laughter.
Draco opened the package….and yelped and flung it away from him.
Was this some kind of fucking joke?
"I can't believe….that bloody…" he stuttered, backing away slightly and glaring at Scorpius.
"Mummy took me to the muggle animal store, and she said your favorite animal was duck, so we bought it to you!" he smiled smugly at Draco. "SURPRISE!"
Draco now looked rather green, backing away from the creature as far away as possible.
That heartless, black eyed, disgusting-
"Thank you, son," he choked out. "I...l-love it, Scorpius."
Stifled laughter could be heard from the other room, and Draco gritted his teeth.
Granger.
He rushed over to the door, where he promptly forgot where the duck laid, and he tripped over it, screaming as the duck looked at him with wide eyes and feathers flew everywhere.
"BLOODY MURDER!" he screamed in fear and slight humiliation.
A soft click of the door, and Hermione Granger-or rather Malfoy-stepped into the room, where Draco was sprawled across the floor and Scorpius struggled whether to burst into giggles or go help his father.
"What is going here?"
One look at Draco across the floor, the feathers covering him, and the baffled duck and Hermione stifled her laughter with a slight smirk.
"Nice one, Draco."
He lunged at her legs, but Granger pulled away at the last second, and he crashed into a nearby Scorpius, who was holding out his hand to the duck.
His son was lying on top of Draco now, and he huffed, pushed away a feather from his forehead.
"GRANGER!"
fin.
a/n: God! I worked hard on this, and I hope you guys like it! Sorry about the lack of 'real' smut, which I wanted to save for Sharp. And don't worry, chap 2 of Sharp is on it's way!
This idea is kind of based on The Infernal Devices, in which Will Herondale(drool...) is afraid and annoyed of ducks.
And a special thanks to futurewoman23, who beta'd this for me when I wrote it at midnight, and was amazing. Thank you so much! You guys should really search for her stories. So cute!
Anyway, I think that's pretty much it. Please follow, fav, review!
Thank you for reading, Sasha.