Written for the Title Challenge.
(I honestly love this challenge. It is one of my ultimate favourites.)
I also wrote this with a song in mind.
And I was also in the mood for some Dramione fluff.
Do I really have to explain myself?
Just kidding ;)
Review!
*For those who don't know:
Divine Intervention: miracle caused by a deity's active involvement in the human world.
A/N – everything you recognize is J.K.R's. I am SO not that brilliant.
Word Count: 1, 016
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I Can Take It from There – Chris Young
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He gets up from the table, bringing his plate and cup to the sink and rinsing it off. As he turns to let her finish the dishes, he wraps his arms around her waist. She turns, laughing softly, pecking him on the lips. When he doesn't let her go, she swats him. He grins and pulls a lock of her curly brown hair. With a few years it has gotten less bushy and more sleek and refined. When she kisses him again, longer this time, he holds her there for a second before releasing her, spinning out of the way so he avoids getting snapped by a towel. She always insists on doing most housework without magic, saying it feels like she's accomplished more if she doesn't use it. For someone who grew up having house elves and magic to do everything for him, he'd come a long way. When he'd first started coming over to the flat, he'd left his dishes on the table and hadn't cleaned up after himself, until Hermione had made it clear that if he wanted supper or food in general, really, he had to clean up after himself.
He didn't mind, honestly. It did leave a sense of satisfaction when you were finished, even if your body hurt for a week afterwards. He stops as he feels her arms wrap around him from behind, her head nestling in the crook of his neck, softly kissing it. He drops his head back and sighs. "So, what shall we do tonight?" he asks, guiding her long arms to his shoulders.
"Hm…" she says, playing with the long pieces of hair on the back of his neck, giving him goose bumps. "If you want to be social–"
"You know better than anyone that I want to be social as much as I want a stick up my ass." He snorted. She slaps his chest. "I'm kidding 'Mione." He says, rolling his eyes as she tries to launch herself onto his back piggy-back style. She is several inches shorter than him and isn't making much progress. "I just thought maybe you had a change of heart." She says, gasping as she tries to lift herself high enough onto his back. "More like a change of DNA. Ouch, 'Mione you're choking me!" She'd got her hands around his neck somehow, and was hanging on for dear life. He staggered over to the couch and dropped, landing on top of her. She squirmed, but Draco only turned over and started jabbing her in the sides. "Draco!" She gasped between laughs. "That's not… ouch! Fair!" Draco wasn't ticklish, but Hermione was dreadfully so.
He'd used this to his advantage whenever he wanted something.
After a while he stops, sighing. He drops his head on the pillow beside her head. "What else is there to do?" He asks, words muffled by the pillow. "Well," she starts, flopping over, playing with the ends of her hair. She drapes her head along the pillow and looks at his downward facing head. "We could always stay here." His muscles tensed up slightly. Did she mean…? "You know," she added. "Hang out. Watch a movie." He slightly relaxed, but couldn't feel a slight pang of disappointment as the adrenaline pump he'd gotten from just hearing her say those five words wore out of his body.
"Does that mean, oh I don't know, popcorn?"
She grins. She'd recently introduced Draco to popcorn and he loved it. "Oh, why not?" she asks, launching herself to her feet. "You get the movie, I'll make the popcorn." When he starts to protest, she puts a finger up, shushing him. "Last time you tried to make popcorn you burnt the hell out of it." He sighs resignedly, getting up and walking over to the music stand. Another Muggle appliance that Hermione insisted on using: a television. He loved movies, but the television was so confusing! First of all, how was the word television made into simply two letters? Second, the little knobs were so confusing, and the remote..! It's not even worth mentioning the fucking thing.
He searches through her collection of DVDs. Another word he learnt. DVD. Muggles had such complicated words! He keeps looking through the movies. He kind of feels like a comedy. He looks over his shoulder. "What comedies do you have?" he shouts in the general direction of the kitchen, where he can hear the loud popping of popcorn. "Just a second!" she yells back as the popping starts to slow down. "I have to wait for this batch to be done, and I'll come show you."
Fifteen minutes later the credits of the movie are on and they are eating popcorn, Draco with his arm across Hermione's shoulders. They laugh through the entire movie, Hermione whispering little explanations about things he can't understand. Later, when the movie's finished, Draco takes the popcorn bowl to the kitchen and starts cleaning up. He stretches, yawning, looking at the clock. It was almost two in the morning!
"'Mione!" he shouts into the living room. "'Mione, I have to go."
"Draco," she says, coming into the kitchen. "You can always sleep here." She said. He nods thoughtfully. "Okay," he says. "I'll do that."
Her couch is fairly large and he settles down on it comfortably. Hermione cleans up, and when she comes back to Draco again, she'd dressed in pajamas. She kisses him lightly. "'Night, Draco." She whispers.
"'Night, 'Mione." He whispers back.
She leaves, shutting the lights off, before quietly padding into her room.
Sometime in the night, he wakes up to the feel of a body sliding next to his on the couch. "'Mione?" he whispers hoarsely.
"Shh." She says. "I'm sleeping." She closes her eyes and lays her head down on his chest. He chuckles deeply and wraps an arm around her. Slowly, he falls asleep to the sound of her gentle breathing.
What had he done to deserve her? She was like the leaves changing colour in fall; a miracle.
His miracle.
His gift from the gods.
His divine intervention.