This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstasies,
And bring all heaven before mine eyes.
These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
And I with thee will choose to live.
Lycidas – John Milton
The Ministry gets still and quite at night. When everyone has gone home to his or her family for dinner and a good night's sleep, the lights dim by magic and the house elves come out to clean. The only floor that's even the slightly noisy is the unspeakable floor, but it's not a loud noisy. It's the kind of noise you can barely hear, the noise of movement and of feet barely touching the floor.
Draco sits in his office with his fingers pressed to his temple trying to rub the reoccurring migraine out of his head. He smells her perfume from a mile away and it makes him ache in a million different places. She only ever comes to the Ministry at night for one reason and he knows that he's the reason.
"Eh Malfoy, Granger's here for you again. She's annoying Sackoff and Purten with her presence. Chase her away will ya?" Jarden begs of him from his position in the doorway to Draco's office.
He pushes his office chair slowly away from his oak desk, pocketing a slip of paper in his pants while doing so. He sees her before he actually sees her; the hair that used to be bushy is now a tamed mass of waves. As he rounds the corner to her, she turns to lay her gaze on him. Her lips curve up in a slight grin and his blood boils.
She opens her mouth to say something but he grabs her arm tightly, pulling her along with him back to his office. He shoves her in and slams the door shut, muttering locking and silencing spells before turning back to her.
"Granger, second time this week," Draco comments while appraising her. She's dressed in a tan trench coat; his blood boils even hotter at the thoughts running through his mind.
"Shut up, Malfoy. Shut up and kneel." Her lips turn into a straight line after her statement, she's affecting a position of authority and Draco can't deny her this. His lips split apart in a retort but her wand is out casting a charm on him before he can speak. His cheeks flush red in anger and maybe even embarrassment. "That's a good boy," she whispers into his ear while bending down trace her fingers along the patch of bare skin on his neck.
She unties the trench coat to reveal nothing underneath and Draco thinks for a moment that he's going to faint at the pure raw sexuality emanating from her. She's all curves, breasts, and torture.
Before he knows what's happening she's yanked his head back with his hair, her fingers curling tightly into the blonde strands. Her lips are hot against his cheek as she places one dainty little kiss right there. "You think that I don't know all your actions throughout the day. You think that I don't get reports on where you're going. I know all your movements, Malfoy and I know who you fuck, when you fuck them, and how hard you fuck them." She releases his head in a quick shove so that he's forced to rock forward to counteract the movement.
He swallows hard at the allegations.
"I have half a mind to sit here and pleasure myself, charming you to keep still and not have release. Do you want to come tonight, Draco? Or do you want me to let you have me? You can answer me with a simple shake of your head." She sat down on his desk with her legs barely parted; Draco felt his mouth water at the sight.
He nodded.
"If I let you have me, you have to keep quiet. I want no words. Up."
Draco stands slowly, feeling the pain in his knees from kneeling on the hard marble floor of his office. He reaches her in a blinding second, taking her hips in his hands and pulling her flush against him. His lips find hers in a scorching press of heat; her tongue is in his mouth before he has time to think. The sound of his belt hitting the floor lets him know that she's deftly undone his zipper; her hand on his dick makes his breath come out in a rush into her mouth. Without thinking about it he lifts her up and plunges into her, hoping to make her façade disappear but it doesn't. Her face remains stony and detached from the actions taking place in his office. When he comes, he does so silently—either because of the curse or because of the thoughts running through his head, there's no telling. She makes no sound, she only grips his shoulders tightly and he knows that he'll have scratches from her nails in the morning. Not that he minds though. He considers what he'd say to her, if he could.
Probably something she'd make him regret.
He wakes up in his office chair the following morning. He's wearing the same clothing he was wearing the night before. He can feel traces of her on his skin. He gropes his pants and feels the piece of paper gone from his pants. Before he knows it he's out his office door, feeling the stares of the rest of the office on him since he's wearing yesterday's clothing.
Draco's running out of the Ministry without his jacket and he's freezing but he has to find her. He apparates to her house; the white picket fence surrounds the quant little abode and he feels sick to his stomach.
But he can't stop himself. The wood is hard beneath his fist as he knocks; his breath catches in his throat when she answers the door with the ghost of a laugh still on her face.
"Draco," she whispers before shoving him and stepping outside the house. "What are you doing here?"
"Where's the piece of paper that was in my pocket?" he asks her breathlessly, steeling himself for a cruel retort.
"I can't discuss this here. My family is here, Draco. My husband is here."
"I don't fucking care, Hermione. I don't. You have that paper; you know what's on it. I want you to admit you read it." He stands his ground firmly, daring her to lie.
"Fine, I read it. And you need to pretend you weren't going to say it to me." Her face is emotionless; he wonders aimlessly how she can be such a good mother. As if on que he hears a child's laughter from inside, his stomach lurches and he wonders what a child of theirs would look like.
"I love you." Her hand is fast and quick across his face. The blow jerks his head to the left and he doesn't bother to raise his hand to it. He knows that his face is red from the slap but he doesn't care.
"How dare you? It's been years and you know what you signed up for. I'm married. I'm happy. I have children. You destined us to this when you did what you did 6th year. Fucking murderer." She presses her finger to the center of his chest. "We aren't in love anymore. We fuck. We cheat. We use one another to get over those moments we can't bare to think about. You say those words again and it's done."
"I love you. Please. Haven't I atoned enough?" His fingers curl around themselves, pressing tightly into the palms of his hands so that he knows there will be crescent shaped marks later.
"You can never atone for what you did. I doubt God can forgive you that." She sighs softly as if she might be in a bit of agony as well but he knows she's just placating him. "Go home, Draco. Take a shower, put on new clothes, and go back to work."
As she turns to go back inside something inside him shifts. "I'll tell Ron."
"Yeah? Go ahead, I dare you." They stand in a silent dare, wondering which will make a move first. He stakes a step back. She smiles. "See? Coward." She goes back inside and he can hear Ron ask whom it was. He also hears the answer.
"Nobody, nobody at all."
He doesn't apparate home or back to work. He walks around the wizarding village that Hermione lives in, wishing that it were he bringing her children here on the weekends. All those years of wasted love on her and all he'd ever get were some meaningless fucks when her husband was away playing quidditch matches.
She thought he was a coward. He thought that he was as well.
But he could change that.
He walks into the little pub in the village, asks the barkeep for a napkin and a pen. With deliberation, he begins to write.
The next day at work he gets in trouble for missing the previous day. Draco doesn't really care though. He trudges back to his office, checks to see what his day's work is. He has fieldwork and he's eternally grateful; he thinks that sitting in his office would slowly kill him.
He dons his unspeakable black cloak, deftly tying the knot at his throat and starts to walk to the apparation room. He sees Granger out of the corner of his eye. The glare she gives him stings from across the department and he all but runs to the apparation room. Clapping noises on the ground alert him that she's running after him as well, as he jumps into the portal to apparate he feels her fingers gripping his arm. Losing his concentration and balance they find themselves in the middle of a deserted highway in northern England.
"You've ruined my life, Malfoy! You've ruined it!" she shouts with her hair waving in the wind. Black clouds fill the sky and green overgrown grass fill the sides of the road. He grips his wand tightly in his dueling hand, afraid that she'll throw an unforgivable at any moment.
"Still a coward, am I?" he provokes her, pleased when her expression turns from rage to pure astonishment.
"Draco. You've ruined my life, my children's lives. Do you understand what you've done?"
"I know exactly what I've done!" Draco yells bitterly, loud enough to cause her to flinch. "I am so madly in love with you! I was when you married him! I make one fucking mistake, Hermione. One fucking mistake and you can't forgive me! We should be married! Those should be my damn children! Fuck it, you're mine!" He crosses the three feet of space between them and crushes their mouths together. She fights him tooth and nail, literally, but he refuses to let her go. He's crying, or she's crying, he doesn't know but he can taste it on their lips.
"He took them from me. He took my children. He's taken it all. He's gone. You've taken everything from me."
"No, I'm going to give it all back. Two-fold. I love you. You're mine; you were never his."
"You're deluded," she spits bitterly before shoving him away. "You're enjoying this."
With a heavy heart he watches as she falls to the ground, like a broken rag doll. She's all broken edges, rage, and tears. He wants to kneel beside her and take her in his arms but he knows better. He knows much better than that. So he stands, staring at the mess he's made. At what he's done. He has half a mind to get a time turner and undo it but he won't, because he finally has what he's wanted all along.
She looks up from the ground at him for a moment. Tears flow down her cheeks in waves; her cheeks are red from either anger or the tears but he can't tell. He kneels down to look her in the eye.
"I can give you everything."
"Oh Draco, I already had everything." She pulls her wand out of her pocket and apparates away. He collapses over where she was. He doesn't understand.
He doesn't hear from her for weeks. He goes by their old home, it's overgrown with weeds and he doesn't expect anyone to be there. When he knocks on the front door he's surprised to see her answer. She's a mess… hair knotted and bags under her eyes. But when she opens the door, her eyes light up at the sight of him and her shoulders lower enough to reveal some comfort at the sight of him.
For him, it's enough.