title: into temptation.
author: fishtank.
fandom: harry potter.
pairing: draco/hermione.
for: emily! as a part of the aag fic exchange. enjoy, love! /heartsforever
notes: oh my god i've not written dramione in forever asdfg i'm scared.
disclaimer: i don't own harry potter.
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mar·riage
noun
— the social institution under which a man and woman establish their decision to live as husband and wife by legal commitments, religious ceremonies, etc.
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There wasn't much that was perfect about Hermione.
Her hair was far too bushy and frizzy, her teeth still weren't as straight as they could have been, even after the incident in their fourth year at Hogwarts; she didn't have a particularly womanly figure, either. She was pleasantly plain.
It was her smile, however, that made Draco feel giddy.
She made her way down the aisle, the bouquet of roses — pale pink and white — clasped neatly in her small hands, her hair smoothed back into elegant curls, thanks to Ginny's excessive use of styling products. She had her lips pressed together into a thin, nervous line, but they were curved upwards; no doubt a smile, on that unusually made up face.
She reached the altar as the wedding march, playing over the Muggle stereo system, drew to its end. She looked up at him from under her dark lashes, and he looked back, his calm grey eyes half-lidded and warmer than usual. It was bizarre, how a handful of years could change a Malfoy from a Death Eater to a gentleman, such as this.
She mouthed to him, I love you.
He simply turned to the vicar, and the ceremony began.
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Draco watched his childhood friend stride ahead of him, her dark hair brushing her shoulder blades, uncovered by her plain blue summer dress, and lifted an eyebrow. How Pansy could walk with such confidence, such arrogance, even in those high heels, even with no first year Gryffindor students to undermine anymore…well, that was simply beyond Draco's mind.
"Pansy, can you just carry your own shopping bags?" he called out, sending her a withering look while she couldn't see, "I have to get home to the wife."
Pansy stopped dead, her wedge shoes clunking to a standstill. She turned her head, thrust out a hand, and said, "Don't call her the wife, it's weird."
Draco passed the bags over with a quiet smirk.
"Have those feelings of want still not passed?"
"Not a bit," came Pansy's answer, straight and sharp. "And I can tell you still feel the same."
Draco made a small sound in the back of his throat, and she pressed her lips fiercely to his.
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He lay awake, that night, and for months and months after, eyes staring like lamplights at a spot on the ceiling. His wife — the woman with whom he'd just celebrated his year and a half marriage anniversary — curled into his side, and automatically, he put an arm around her. He didn't think he was in the right place to, but Hermione always knew what happened when she was asleep — her senses were somewhat heightened, when she was asleep.
There was silence, and then —
"I know you've been seeing a lot of Pansy, lately."
Draco blinked.
"Yes, I have."
"Have you been…seeing-seeing her?" Pause. "Don't worry, I won't get angry." Another pause. "Just tell me the truth."
Draco sat up, propping himself against the headboard of the bed, pushing the sheets away; Hermione did the same, and looked him dead in the eye. "Draco."
"She gives me the thrill that you never have," he explained quietly, his gaze set on the folds of the sheets. "She always has. You're in love — she's in lust, and there's fire. With you…I don't feel. I don't feel anything."
Hermione took a deep, slow breath, and nodded. "She's changed you. Because that's not what you felt before we got married — I'd like to think the man I married is still in there somewhere."
"And if he isn't?"
"I still won't love you like that," she said. "Because I know I won't be able to give you that thrill."
The two sat in silence, for a while, during which time there were a few awkward glances and jumbled, nonsensical sentences, none of which could make an impact on the situation.
"I think we should stay as we are now, from now on, we're better off this way."
"As we are?"
"In silence, like strangers."
Draco brushed his thumb across her knuckles. "I'm sorry it's ended like this."
Hermione looked at him, a little lost.
"Yeah. So am I."
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temp·ta·tion
noun
— the fact or state of being tempted, especially to evil.
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outro: I AM NOT WORTHYYYYYY.
emily, i hope you can find it in your heart to at least pretend this is good. OTL||||