Black
She was sporting a poorly disguised black eye Monday morning when she came in late to work. Her facial expression was one of grim determination and easy-to-trigger belligerence. In consequence, no one asked anything. Worrying was not invited either as she threw herself into her paperwork with more gusto than even Hermione Granger could generally muster on the first day of the week.
Draco admired her spirit while at the same desired to go over to her and cuddle her. And after she fell asleep in his arms, he'd lay her on his sofa, go find whoever did this to her (although he had a pretty good idea who had done it) and pummel the piece of shit until he was nothing more than bloody pulp.
After lunch, Miss Morton – the department's secretary – knocked on his office door.
Miss Morton was seventy years old and spent her weekends taking orphaned children to the park. Never married, she didn't have children of her own.
On very bleak days, Hermione looked at her and imagined that that would be her in a couple of decades. But she and Miss Morton had become quick friends.
Miss Morton always dropped hints about him and Hermione, making Hermione blush hotly and him sigh longingly. They were Miss Morton's favourites, Draco and Hermione, co-Heads of the International Relations Department. Cookies and coffee and flowers always awaited them on their desks.
So when the elderly lady stepped into his office, all Draco had to ask was:
"It was Garry, wasn't it?"
Garry had had another one of his jealous spazzes and they had gotten into an argument over breakfast.
'You're going to work dressed like that?'
Hermione looked down at her red wool skirt and thick black stockings.
The observation had quickly spiralled into a full-out fight. She had finally had enough and told him to collect his shit and get out of her house. Garry, an unstable lad who had been more of a charity case to Hermione than anything else, had thrown a chair against the wall and slapped her then.
Draco counted on Miss Morton to make up a story for his absence in the middle of the day as he headed to the Auror Department.
"Where's Malfoy, Miss Morton?" she asked at the end of the program, seeing that his door was open and he was nowhere to be found. The three of them were usually the last ones to leave.
"Oh, his mother sent him an urgent owl," Miss Morton casually responded as she buttoned up her coat. "Bundle up, dear. The snowstorm's looking like it's picking up."
Hermione searched her face for any mischief but Miss Morton had a poker face that rivalled those of the Weasley twins.
A knock sounded at her front door so she knew it was a wizard or a witch because her Apparition zone was inside the tall walls erected around her cottage and garden. The Muggles rang the electronic doorbell on the gate that faced the street.
"Who is it?"
"Malfoy."
Hermione sighed. She hadn't really believed she could get away with the blemish.
She opened her door and was surprised to find not only Malfoy but also Ron and Harry.
"Hullo, 'Mione," greeted Ron too tenderly and she knew already what had happened.
Sighing, she stepped back and went into the kitchen, trusting that they would follow.
"Hot chocolate with cognac, boys?"
A chorus of 'yes' came from the hallway where you could hear boots being taken off and cloaks removed.
She made sure to put in more alcohol than usual in all of their mugs tonight.
Not long afterwards, Ginny made an appearance too, hugging Hermione with worried eyes.
"I'm going to have to teach you how to use all that make-up you got for Christmas properly, Hermione," Ginny said as she and Harry were getting to ready to leave. "See you tomorrow for lunch, yeah?"
Hermione knew she would have a heart-to-heart with Ginny tomorrow, one she couldn't very well indulge in with Harry, Ron – and Malfoy present.
"Looking forward to it. G'night, Gin," Hermione pecked her and Harry on the cheek.
The redhead gave her a tight hug and Hermione was both grateful and awkward about it.
Ron started pulling on his boots after he shook Harry's hand and kissed his sister's cheek.
"You're leaving too, Ron?"
"Yeah. Early day tomorrow, 'Mione."
He pulled his cloak on and the three of them were imposing figures in her hallway and she felt a vibration coming off of them. These were people who had fought Voldemort and conquered him. Hermione was in a little awe, unaware that she was part of their vibration.
"Remind Malfoy when he comes out of the loo that Saturday we're all going to the Burrow for lunch and Quidditch," added Harry as an afterthought as he went out the door.
"Yeah. Bloody wanker missed last time and my team got pummelled," Ron whined.
Hermione smiled at him and ruffled his hair, remembering that they were all just people and her friends.
"Sure. But I won't be held responsible if he chooses not to come."
"Aw, c'mon, 'Mione!"
She laughed and ushered Ron out of the door.
"Good night, Ron," she singsonged.
Draco heard her laughter from the kitchen and felt himself convulse a bit.
Later, much later, Hermione leaned against his naked chest, his hands coming around her fully under the blanket. The fire crackled merrily at their feet as they were propped up by the sofa.
The silence stretched out and she heard everything he wasn't saying to her.
"Have you had enough, Hermione?" he whispered into her ear in a menacing tone that made her skin prickle. "Hmm? Am I going to have to beat the crap out of more guys that don't know how to treat you in the near future?"
She closed her eyes even though they weren't face to face.
"Draco…"
"Our time is now. Don't waste mine and your youth trying to prove – what? That you want and can help people? Dating them isn't how to do it, darling."
She let the words sink in, allowed them to penetrate her faulty logic, destroy it. At one point, she turned sideways in his arms and hid her face in his neck.
"Wasn't I right?"
She nodded reluctantly against his skin.
"Yeah. You're the only unstable man I can handle," she said as he lowered her to the carpet once more. As his lips settled on her breast and his hand slipped between her thighs, she murmured:
"The only one I want to handle."