I just realized how stupid I was when posting this, no disclaimer, no credit to the BETA. Kill me seriously I'm an idiot.
I own nothing, Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling, The song belongs to Heather Nova.
This was all just recently Edited by my SUPER FABULOUS BETA Linthlde. Thank You to her.
Im coming, Im coming home to you.
I'm Alive I'm a Mess.
I can't wait to get home to you
To get warm, warm and undressed.
She had barely gotten to work when she spilled an entire cup of coffee down the front of her white button down shirt. She had put on shoes that were a half a size too small and her feet were aching. The skirt she wore was half a size too big and she had been constantly checking to make sure it wasn't falling off or turned completely backwards. To make things worse the streets of Muggle London were packed as usual, umbrellas crashing into one another as people made their way home for the night. Of course she had forgotten her umbrella. Her brown curls were plastered to her face, and her clothes were stuck to her skin freezing her to the bone. She kept her head down to keep the rain from pelting her eyes. 'I should have flooed home' she thought to herself.
The only thing that kept her from screaming out of sheer frustration was that she knew he would be there waiting for her, a pot of tea steeping, and the fire crackling.
There have been changes beyond my dreams
everybody wants me to sing
There have been changes beyond my grasp
things aren't sinking in
The walk to her flat was long and it gave her mind time to wander.
It had been several years since the war. Things had changed, some expected others completely out of left field. Harry had married Ginny almost immediately after Voldemort fell. George had grieved his twin long and hard but it had given him a renewed drive to take Weasleys Wizard Weezes international. Neville had married Luna and they had taken teaching positions at Hogwarts as Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures professors respectively. She and Ron had thought better of trying to build a relationship on bickering, and he had gotten the position of Keeper for the Chudley Cannon's
She however had married the son of a Death Eater, turned Order spy, Draco Malfoy. When she thought about it logically, it still almost didn't register. He had showed up at Order Headquarters with Snape, Harry had vouched for what Dumbledore said atop the Astronomy tower. He had been granted protection, and dove head first into giving any information he could about Voldemort. He was quickly sent back to Voldemort, like Snape, as a spy. He had been punished greatly for his inability to kill the headmaster and when he came back to head quarters that night, shaking and broken. Hermione had healed him, and stayed with him all night. After that night when they were both at head quarters if Hermione's head was buried in a research book in the library, so was Draco's. If Draco was on a mission she was pacing the kitchen refusing food and waving Kreacher off as politely as possible just as she did when Harry or Ron were out.
So keep me, in your grasp all day
Nothing heals me like you do
Nothing Heals me like you do
Finally she was safe from the rain, as she opened the door to her flat she saw the glow of the fire place and the smell of dinner in the oven filled her senses.
He had taken to cooking the muggle way, claiming that it was very much like potion making. He missed his favorite teacher, and the man who saved his life. Snape had given his life in the end, now that they knew the truth Hermione wished she had gotten the chance to learn more from him. Potion making, and now cooking was Draco's way of staying close to Snape.
He heard the door close behind her and came into the sitting room seeing she was drenched he laughed something about the floo network and pulled her into his arms. She could stay this way forever, warmth came up from inside her and it was like the nightmare of a day had never happened. She knew no one else's embrace would ever do this for her.
And when somebody knows you well
well there's no comfort like that
and when somebody needs you
well there's no drug like that
She made her way to the bedroom after stripping off her soaked coat in the entry way, her favorite sweat pants, and favorite hooded sweat shirt (which was actually his) were lying on the trunk at the end of the bed. She changed quickly casting a drying spell on her now unruly hair. When she came out to the dining room he smiled and kissed her cheek. There was peppermint tea in a pot with her favorite cup sitting on the table for her. Again that feeling of warmth from within washed over her.
He called her into the kitchen to help him finish up the last of dinner preparations. She smiled because he was always helping her, he had saved her in a particularly difficult fight during the final battle where she had allowed herself to be cornered by three vicious Death Eaters. But she had been able to save him as well from his own father later on in that same battle. It felt good to be needed.
So keep me, in your grasp all day
Nothing heals me like you do
Nothing Heals me like you do
With dinner finished they washed the dishes together laughing as Hermione recounted the atrocities of her day. He told her of his day, working along side George helping him to negotiate for premises in Bulgaria, in the village by Durmstrang, a Lead Hermione had given them from her 'Pen-Pal'. Draco's partnership with George had come slowly, begining with him giving advice on possible locations, and eventually with an investment on a store Draco felt particularly strongly about. They worked well together. She smiled up at him as she put the last plate into the cabinet. He pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back. Promising her that tomorrow would be better, tomorrow being Saturday, she could stay in bed and read, or take up the time some other more tangible way, as he winked at her. She laughed, kissed him solidly and felt the stress and aggravation of her day disappear.
When Im home curled in your arms
and Im safe again
Ill close my eyes and sleep,
sleep to the sound of London rain
Lying in bed that night she cuddled up to him with his arm around her shoulders and her head resting on his chest. She entwined her legs with his and the sound of the rain on the windows no longer brought memories of wet hair and cold sticky clothes. Instead it was a lullaby for her and she closed her eyes and held him just a little tighter.
"I love you" He whispered into her hair
"I love you" She breathed back as she fell asleep.
Nothing falls Like London rain
Nothing heals me like you do