AN: First fic I've ever written, inspired by James Arthur's 'Say You Won't Let Go' at three in the morning. Happy Valentine's Day!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything in the world of Harry Potter
"Wake up, love."
Hermione slowly opened an eye to peek outside the window, her hair partially obscuring her view. As far as she could tell, it was still fairly dark outside.
"It's still dark, Draco," she groaned and turned her head away from the window and burrowed her face further into the blanket enveloping her small frame. "Let me sleep."
"It's Valentine's Day," Draco replied amusedly.
"It's also a Saturday," Hermione immediately retorted. "Come back to bed, what on earth are you doing up? You usually sleep in longer than I do on the weekends."
Draco rolled his eyes and sat down at the edge of their bed and set the tray on the bedside table before placing a stasis charm over the food and coffee.
"Well, I tried doing something romantic for you for once and made you breakfast in bed," Draco softly prodded at the lump under the covers with his finger. "I recall you complaining fairly recently that I never do anything romantic for you."
"Waking me up and force-feeding me is not really what I meant," Hermione replied, trying to stifle her laugh as she imagined the pout on her boyfriend's face. She pulled down the covers and sat up, leaning her back against the headboard.
Sure enough, Draco was scowling at her and she couldn't hold back her giggles.
"What?" Draco's frown deepened.
"Nothing," Hermione said softly as she shook her head and crawled towards Draco on the bed to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "It's just that I think I know you too well now and it makes it very easy to tease you."
"Well, we can't have that now, can we?" Draco suddenly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down on the to bed and held her close to his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist. Hermione smiled against his chest, slowly breathing in the smell of clean laundry and his lingering cologne.
"What time is it?" she murmured into shirt.
"Almost 10 in the morning," Draco replied softly before kissing her on the top of her head.
"Why is it so dark?"
"It's raining, love."
Hermione looked over Draco's shoulder and out the window, watching the light drizzle fall against the window.
"It looks a bit windy outside, too," Hermione muttered quietly.
"It is," Draco agreed, turning his head slightly towards the window, listening to the whistling wind and rain drops lightly fall against the window. "Do you remember the Ministry dance from last year? It was the first time we spoke since after the war."
Hermione dropped her head back on the bed and tilted her head up to look into his stormy grey eyes. After a brief moment of eye contact she brought her chin back down to watch her finger lightly trace circles on his chest.
"Yes, vaguely. It was a Christmas ball but I distinctly remember it being a dreadfully rainy night."
"It did rain a lot that evening," Draco agreed. "You know, you had quite a lot to drink that night."
"That's a nice way to put it," Hermione replied with a snort. "What about it, though?"
"I think I really fell for you that night."
Hermione looked at him incredulously, one eyebrow raised. She didn't remember much of that night, but she was aware that she was not the most attractive drunk. She faintly remembered a lot of vomiting and saying a lot of nonsense and Draco holding back her soaking wet hair as she hurled.
"Was it before or after you held my hair back while I emptied the contents of my stomach?"
"Before," Draco replied slowly before smirking. "But I was also pleasantly surprised to find that you vomiting did not make me want to run away screaming."
"Prat," Hermione mumbled with a light slap to his chest.
Draco just chuckled lightly, his mind drifting to the night he reconnected with his former enemy and current love of his life. It was the first social event he attended after the war and he was terrified that night. He knew in theory that the Malfoy name was tarnished after the war and that many people would have liked to see him and his family in Azkaban or dead. The fact that his family decided to remain neutral in the final battle did not sit well with both the light and dark side. The Order still considered them cowardly and evil and the Death Eaters considered them traitors.
It was due to Harry Potter that the he and his family were spared the sentence to Azkaban and it was then that the two former school enemies reached a sort-of truce. His mother saved Harry Potter's life and Draco himself had lied that one night at the manor.
He wouldn't have called it friendship. It was much too forced to be that, but it was a necessary step to moving on for the both of them.
It was through Potter's convincing that Draco ended up at the annual Ministry Christmas ball, nervously adjusting and readjusting his cuffs.
"Malfoy, would you stop fidgeting?" Harry whispered, annoyed, trying not to draw attention. "If you look shifty then people will treat you like you're a criminal."
"Half the people in this room want me dead," Draco huffed, his eyes darting around the room. "I can't exactly strut around."
"Only half?" Harry smirked.
"Shut up."
"Harry!" Draco and Harry turned to the feminine voice behind them and Draco groaned inwardly. It was too early in the evening and he was too sober to handle two-thirds of the Golden Trio.
"Hermione!" Harry's face lit up with a grin as he gave her a quick hug. "You look beautiful, tonight."
"You look quite dashing yourself," Hermione replied with a grin before turning her attention to Draco. "Malfoy."
"Granger."
"It's been a while."
"Yeah."
There was an awkward silence as the three former classmates stood in a circle, Harry eyeing Draco and Hermione warily as the two stared each other down. Draco noticed that Hermione looked essentially the same as he last saw her, which unnerved him. The last time he saw her in person was during the war. Most memorably, the night she spent at his manor being tortured by his aunt. He felt the need to apologize but how did one apologize for something like that? 'Sorry, Granger, you know, about how my aunt tortured you with an unforgivable and maimed your arm in my home as I looked on'. Well, regardless of what happened, she looked… good. Her eyes were bright and her face was somewhat sharper. No one would have guessed that she had seen terrible things and been tortured just a couple years ago, except for the somewhat hardened gaze she pointed in his direction
Hermione stared at Draco curiously and cautiously. His face held no expression and he looked… well, exhausted. His brows were slightly furrowed as if he was concentrating on something, almost perplexed. There was something off about him, and she suddenly realized he looked dramatically different when he wasn't sneering or frowning. Different… in… yes, different in a rather good way.
"Anyone fancy a drink?" Harry finally blurted out, unable to take the tension any longer.
"Yes," Hermione replied immediately, but her posture tensed as she looked past Harry's shoulder. "But I'll be getting my own. Sorry, Harry, but Ron's walking this way. I've got to go now."
Hermione glanced at Draco with a quick nod of her head before she swiftly turned, heading towards the refreshment table.
"What's with Granger and Weasley?" Draco asked, his attention still on the retreating form of Hermione. Damn. He didn't get a chance to apologize. "Aren't they an item of some sort?"
"Er," Harry looked at Draco, hesitating. "No. I can't really get into any detail about it but—"
"Harry," Ron walked up to the two men, nodding at Harry before staring suspiciously at Draco. "I didn't expect you to show your face, Malfoy, being a Death Eater and all."
"Fuck off," Draco replied icily before turning to Harry. "I'm getting a drink." He ignored Ron and brusquely pushed his way through the growing crowd.
"Ron," Harry sighed impatiently.
"I know, I know," Ron looked at Harry apologetically. "It's just an immediate reaction. Sorry."
Draco walked his way around to the bowl of what looked like some kind of juice but reeked of alcohol and noticed Hermione standing by the table, staring off into the crowd, a full drink in her hand.
"Is it any good?" Draco grabbed an empty glass by her side.
"Sorry?" Hermione snapped her attention to the man standing next to her. "Oh, Malfoy."
"Are you okay, Granger?" Draco looked at her curiously out of the corner of his eye. "You seem a bit off."
"Yeah," Hermione replied with a tight smile. "Sorry, did you ask something?"
"Just if this," Draco gestured vaguely to the punch bowl. "Is any good."
"Well," Hermione took a large sip. "It's pretty much vodka with a hint of punch so, it's working for me."
Draco raised an eyebrow and was about to respond when a witch walked right in front of him.
"How dare you show your face here," the dark-haired middle aged witch glared at him, her hand gripping her wand. "You have no right to be here."
"Fuck," Draco muttered under his breath, slowly bring up his hand to run it through his hair in frustration. This was exactly what he should have been prepared for.
"Look," Draco started.
"No right," Hermione scoffed at the woman. "I wonder what happened the last time one person tried to dictate who had certain rights and who didn't."
"Granger," Draco glared at her.
"Malfoy," Hermione shot back before turning her attention back to the woman. "Please leave. If you're here just to condemn the man for mistakes he made as a teenager, I highly suggest you find something more worthwhile to do."
"Mistakes that cost the lives of others," the witch snapped back.
"Can you imagine growing up with certain ideologies forced into your mind from birth only to realize that everything you thought to be true turned out to be lies? What he did was certainly horrendous—" Draco slightly flinched as Hermione stared at him stonily. "But when it mattered, when he started to think for himself," Hermione's voice softened and trailed off. "It couldn't have been easy to completely turn your back on everything you believed."
The witch rolled her eyes and huffed away, muttering curses under her breath as Draco and Hermione once against stared at each other.
"Look, Granger," Draco started to feel the humiliation and fury edge into his mind as he slowly edged towards Hermione, his face dangerously close to hers. "I don't need you to defend me like I'm a bloody house elf or some wounded animal that you feel you need to be responsible for and I certainly don't need or want your pity."
"I don't pity you," Hermione replied coldly, her eyes narrowing. "If it were up to me, you wouldn't have gotten away so easily."
Draco glared at her, his temper flaring.
"But," Hermione continued, cutting Draco off as his mouth opened in furious indignation. "I can certainly understand your situation. Doesn't mean you had to be such an insufferable git throughout school, though."
Draco's mouth snapped shut as he continued to glare at her, her brown eyes betraying a hint of mirth.
"Can you dance?" Hermione asked Draco before downing the rest of her drink in one gulp.
"Of course I can," Draco scoffed, taking a sip of his own drink. His face scrunched as the taste of the vodka hit his tongue violently. What happened to good old firewhiskey or wine? What was this terrible concoction and who thought it was a good idea?
Hermione giggled as she poured herself another glass. "Can't handle your alcohol, Malfoy?"
"My body was not designed for the intake of cheap alcohol," Draco retorted, eyeing the rather large amount of the offending liquid filling Hermione's cup. "Why are you drinking so much, Granger?"
"Why not?"
"Why are you hiding from Weasel?"
"Really, Malfoy," Hermione deadpanned, taking a sip from her drink. "Childish nicknames are getting a bit old, aren't they?"
"Lovers quarrel?" Draco ignored her response, thoughtfully looking at her annoyed expression.
"No."
"Ended things, then?"
"What's it to you?" Hermione asked, her temper rising.
"Finally realized you could do better than Weasley?" Draco pressed on.
"What?" Hermione's anger vanished, leaving her in a state of bewildered confusion.
"What?"
"You think I could do better?"
"I mean," Draco looked at her, just as bewildered. "Yeah. You don't?"
"No, I mean, yes, but," Hermione paused before letting out a sigh. "Honestly, I know we were somewhat… not… well matched, but I always thought it we would make it work."
"So I take it you weren't the one to end things?" Draco mused. It was odd. Someone with brains like Granger should have realized that she was too good for someone like Weasley. She was incredibly smart (something he resented in school), she was… well, she was attractive (something he tried hard to ignore in school), and she was… good, pure, brave, and kind (something he was not).
Hermione shot him a glare before taking her drink down like a shot.
"Merlin, Granger," Draco rolled his eyes, breaking out of his somewhat unexpected thoughts. "I'm not about to clean up after you when you vomit all that back up."
"Charming," Hermione mumbled.
"Draco?"
Draco snapped back to the Hermione in his arms, looking up at him curiously. "What's on your mind?"
"Just that night."
"I can barely remember anything that night," Hermione laughed softly. "But I remember how much of a gentleman you were."
"I should have received a bloody medal for cleaning up after you and for resisting your terribly improper advances with your wet dress clinging to this—" Draco grabbed her waist and pulled her tighter against him. "Amazing body."
"I still don't believe I made an advances of any kind," Hermione faked a frown. "I'm almost certain of it. Besides," she grinned up at him. "After that ball you suddenly became attractive to every witch. That was a nightmare for me."
"Well," Draco smirked. "Being a complete gentleman and escorting the esteemed and completely pissed Hermione Granger did help my image, so thank you for that."
"Oh, shut it," Hermione scowled. "If you liked me then, why didn't you say anything? Were you purposely flaunting your seemingly endless amount of dates to make me jealous?"
"Maybe," Draco allowed a small smirk to form at the corner of his mouth. "But it worked, didn't it?"
"I would hardly say it worked," Hermione scoffed. "If I remember correctly, you were the one who became a jealous arse and ruined my date with Oliver."
"Hm," Draco gently tugged on a strand of her hair. "I don't recall this."
"How convenient," Hermione replied sarcastically.
"I do remember," Draco placed a soft kiss by her ear. "Apologizing for being a complete arse. Brought you a cup of coffee and everything the next morning."
"Mm," Hermione hummed happily. "That was a good cup of coffee." She closed her eyes and sighed again as Draco smiled, running his hands up and down her back.
"You know," she said so quietly, Draco wasn't completely sure she was speaking. "I remember you rejecting me that night. As drunk as I was, it did hurt a bit."
Draco stopped his hand movements and looked down at her, her eyes still closed.
"I had no idea," Draco started slowly. "But, regardless, it would have been wrong of me to take advantage."
"I know," Hermione exhaled deeply. "It was just… I've never really put myself out there like that. The alcohol certainly did help."
"Hermione," Draco slowly drew his arms away from Hermione's waist before sitting himself up against the headboard. He looked down at her for a moment before continuing. "You have to understand… that I didn't think it possible that you would want to be with me. A night of drunken sex, sure, I can understand acting on impulse and impaired judgment, but I never really thought you would ever see me as a… stable… option."
Hermione leaned on her elbow and looked up at Draco, their eyes locked once again.
"I thought you rejected me because you still felt that I was inferior to you," Hermione sighed and sat up to face him. "I can't even properly remember the conversation we had that night at the ball, but I remember you telling me I could do better, but apparently not as good as you."
"Why on earth would I be good enough for you?"
"Good enough?" Hermione shook her head. "Draco, before, when you were a snot-nosed little brat—"
"Thanks for that."
"I never thought of you being too good for me. Honestly, I thought we were just on two totally different planes of existence. It did not even cross my mind that we could ever get involved."
"Then what changed?" Draco asked quietly.
"I know how hard it is to admit to being wrong," Hermione replied just as softly. "Don't mistake it for sympathy or pity, Draco. The fact that you were strong enough to admit that you were wrong about something you believed your whole life was right… it actually made me see you in an entirely different light. You were no longer on a different place of existence, and I wanted to know you on a more intimate level. After you rejected me, you just seemed out of reach."
"If anyone seemed out of reach, Granger, it would be you," Draco smiled, lightly rolling his eyes. "With you not only being part of the Golden Trio, but the only one who kept Potter and Weasley from dying. Multiple times."
"So," Hermione grinned. "We were both just being unnecessarily insecure?"
"It would seem so, yes," Draco replied, amused, as Hermione turned to the table to reach for the coffee.
"I hope you know," Hermione looked over at Draco over her cup. "I'm never letting you go. Not when you make such amazing coffee."
"I hope you know," Draco reached over to take the cup out of Hermione's hands, setting it back on the table as she frowned. "That I plan on starting a family with you, growing old with you, and haunting the shit out of our house with you after we die."
"How romantic," Hermione smirked.
"I'm going to ask you to marry me one day," Draco hovered over her lips and she bit her lower lip in anticipation, her eyes locked on to his.
"And I'll say yes," she whispered against his lips before he closed the space between them, stealing the word 'yes' from her breath while his hands tangled in her hair, her arms wrapped around his neck.