2012 JUNE MONTHLY CHALLENGE
Prompt:
Peanut Butter
Nutella
Gas
Pairings:
Hermione/Fred ∨ George
Hermione/Draco
Hermione/Bill
Quotes:
"You were saying"
"Remember that next time"
"I think I'm going to throw up"
Hermione woke up the next morning with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. She leapt out of her bed and quickly ran to her bathroom, where she threw herself to the toilet and emptied the contents of her stomach. When her stomach finally settled, she flushed away the putrid smell and rested her head on the cool porcelain. She felt a strong hand rub the small of her back and pull her hair out of her face.
"How is it that you are still in love with this?" she questioned turning her head to the side.
Draco grinned at her, his white-blond hair sticking up at all different angles, "When you decked me… third year ? I couldn't help but think that you were the one who would—"
She ducked her head and emptied her stomach again; Draco rubbed her back slowly. Noticing him watching her, she fought back as grimace as another pang wrenched her body. She flushed the toilet again and turned to him.
"You were saying?"
He brushed a strand behind her ear and rubbed his thumb against her cheek. "I hate seeing you like this."
She gave a hollow chuckle, "Remember that the next time you decide to make love to me when trying to be romantic."
"I didn't hear you complaining."
She glared at him playfully, "You're pushing it Malfoy."
He smiled and sat down next to her, leaning against their cabinet underneath the sink, "Do you need anything?"
"Water, please."
He nodded and turned to kneel at the sink. He filled a glass with cold water and handed it to her. Rubbing her back soothingly as she downed the drink and washed her mouth out, Draco smiled as she joined him on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her between his legs so she could lean against him. Their hands clasped together as they relaxed into each other.
"I can't wait till this stops," Hermione sighed, "I'm almost looking forward to the massive belly."
"I will find you sexy either way," he whispered kissing her cheek.
She laughed, "Sure you would!"
He settled his chin lightly on her shoulder, "You think you know me so well."
She leaned into him, taking in his comfort. They were quiet for a moment, just taking in each other's presence, listening to each other's slow breath and feeling their skin against the other.
Hermione broke the silence, "I'm nervous, though,"
"About what?"
She sighed, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder, "What if I'm…not a good enough mother,"
"What on earth brought this to your pretty head?"
Hermione looked down at her hands in thought, "Well, I went to the Burrow with the news this week and…"
"Weaselbee didn't take it well," Draco finished a little stiffly, "What would he expect would happen when we got married? That you would be barren just because he hates my guts?"
Hermione shook her head, "No it's just that he never believed that we would…actually make it this long."
She felt him stiffen behind her, his fists were clenched and she could feel his anger radiate off of him.
"Draco—"
He extricated himself and walked out the bathroom door, back to their bedroom. She pulled herself up from the floor and followed him. He was pacing back and forth in front of the bed, his hands running through his pale hair and his eyes closed in thought. She could tell that he was holding in his urge to grab his wand and apparate to the Burrow where it was certain that a duel of hexes would erupt from the two.
"Draco, please,"
"Two years," he stated to her, "Two years we have been together, and we have been married for one—"
"Ten months and three weeks," she corrected.
He suppressed the grin that was trying to escape, "Ten months, three weeks of marriage and he still thinks that I'm not good enough."
"It's not that—"
"Yes it is!" he practically yelled, "He is still hung up on the fact that I still have this damn thing on my arm—"
He gestured with his left forearm; the arm she knew was still branded with the Dark Mark that still shown brightly against his skin, despite Voldemort's defeat almost seven years ago.
"—What does he think? That I'll go back to that? Back to my childish habits of hexing people right and left? Watching people being tortured next to me and following Lucius' footsteps like I was supposed to!" he spat his father's name out in disgust. "I am not a scared twelve year old boy! I don't want that, I never wanted that; why the hell do people keep thinking so?"
His anger was building; he was half talking to himself, half to her.
Since the war, he finally decided what he wanted: his own life. No prejudiced views, no dark magic, no more hatred. It was an eye opener, seeing his mother leave his father and stepping up to protect her only child, leaving the battle and taking him away from his raging father. They grew together, away from the dark manipulation of his upbringing and into a brighter future. His mother reconnected to her only living sister, Andromeda, and was beginning to support herself for the first time in her life.
Draco turned to his mother only for a moment before moving to recreate his life, beginning with testifying against his father at his hearing and apologizing to the Wizard community for his family's involvement in the war. He had wished to begin this new generation with a new chapter in everyone's life. Many people didn't believe his words were true; Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were just two of many.
But for Hermione Granger, though the war ending half a year ago, the battle was still fresh in her eyes and looming around her, she walked to him and held out a hand.
"A new beginning begins with forgiveness," she said to him, sincerely, "And I forgave you long ago, Draco."
Many followed slowly after her; if the Gryffindor Princess can forgive a Death Eater's son then they could certainly try. Together they helped rebuild: Hogwarts, families who lost their homes, the Ministry, broken spirits, anything that was in need of healing. Slowly the Wizarding community began to regrow itself. Kingsley Shacklebolt was named the Minister of Magic and made quick work of getting their government back on its feet, making the process of rebuilding more efficient. Some people were moving quickly to get on with their lives, as if they wanted to forget the war ever happened, but that was best for a lot of people. Too many people were affected by the war and lost loved ones, but it was better to remember the happier times than remember the struggle.
It wasn't long before Draco and Hermione had grown closer to each other; Ron noticed and gave more than his two Knuts worth. They were eating lunch one afternoon outside of a little restaurant down from Gringotts, when Ron saw them laughing and joking with each other. Something else must have triggered his angry, Hermione still didn't know. Maybe he thought Draco gazed at her a second longer than what seemed appropriate, or it could be that their hands brushed up against each other's when they came to rest atop the table, or it might have even been how they looked at each other saying nothing, just smiling and happy to be in each other's company at this moment.
Whatever the cause, Ron thundered in through the restaurant, his face beginning to red and his hands already in fists at his side.
"Hermione! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
She looked at him confused, "Eating lunch."
"Yeah, but why are you with him?" he pointed an accusing finger at Draco, who was just as confused as Hermione.
"We decided to have lunch together, since we're working together on the Orphans of War charity, Ronald."
Draco could easily tell that her anger was boiling up. The one thing he knew that got Hermione riled up was being contradicted. She was confident in her work, she was able to accept suggestions that were brought to her, but if someone questioned her choices without any knowledge of the situation she couldn't help but get furious. However, this mostly happened with Ron because he was too daft to understand when to shut his loud mouth.
"You're working with the ferret?" he questioned.
That seemed to hit a sore spot because she bolted up from her chair and stood in front of him, a least half a foot shorter than he but in her fury she might as well be a foot taller.
"Ronald, we have all moved on, we are growing up. Why can't you?"
"Because of what he did! He did nothing, he just stood there—"
"I was surviving!" Draco shouted.
The whole restaurant got deathly quiet as their fight escalated. Draco was now between the two, practically shielding Hermione from her friend. They were almost the same height, Draco and Ron, but their builds couldn't be more different. While Ron had strong shoulder and a strong muscular physique Draco was toned, his slim muscular definition common with that of a Quidditch Seeker.
"He was in my house," Draco hissed at Ron, "He could have killed us with a flick of the wand and not a damn shred of remorse. I was surrounded by people that were watching my every move just waiting for me to slip, to have any reason to send a killing curse my way. I didn't care if my father made a mistake, I was there for my mother, the only person that gave a damn about me!"
His words echoed in the small restaurant, with the two men staring daggers at each other and waiting for either of them to make a move, just to have an excuse to throw a hex at each other.
"What if it had been your mother, your father, what if it was Hermione?"
Ron stared at him wordlessly, Draco sighed heavily and broke his gaze. He dug in his pocket and tossed a few galleons on the table. He draped his jacket across his arm and gestured to his unfinished meal.
"Enjoy," he said to Ron sarcastically, and then pushed past him and out the door.
When he stepped out of the restaurant he noticed that the sky grew noticeably dark. The large clouds loomed above him, as if reflecting the argument he just broke away from. He smirked to himself as he slipped on his jacket, years ago he would have drawn his wand, exclaiming his 'father would hear about this.' Oh, have the times have changed.
"Draco!"
He turned around, a look of surprise registered on his face at seeing Hermione run to him with her purse and coat draped across her arm.
"I'm sorry," she breathed out, "You don't deserve to be created like that, I can honestly say that I'm not going to be speaking with Ronald any time soon,"
"Easy now Granger," Draco teased with a smile, "People might think you care about me."
Her face flushed as she smiled and shook her head.
"You only wish."
At that moment it began to downpour, droplets hitting the glass windows around them with a clear ping and splashed against the brick walk. Draco grabbed her coat and threw it over her shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and led her to a store's front stoop getting out of the rain for a moment. The stoop was tight and they were so close that they could almost feel the other's heart, fluttering at the childish excitement of running from the rain.
He had his arm still around her shoulder, and she clutched the opening of her jacket. Her hair was slightly damp from the rain, but that seemed to add to her natural beauty. She was smiling at the rain and watched as people opened parasols or clutched copies of the Prophet over their heads as the found some shelter. Her smile and happiness was contagious because Draco smiled as he watched her. Her eyes were shining with excitement, her smile wide and bright as she watched the rain fall, cleaning away the dust and dirt that seemed to be the main attraction at Diagon Alley nowadays.
He noticed then how strong she was at that moment, the confrontation completely forgotten and her decision to enjoy something simple now present on her mind. Her smile was natural, not force or artificial in any way. She was a woman in every sense of the word: strong, determined, intelligent, passionate, beautiful…everything that seemed to draw Draco closer to her.
She turned and saw him staring at her with a smile. She looked away and cleared her throat, embarrassed.
"Um…well, we should…are you hungry, I know you didn't finished your meal—"
"Granger," he said softly, cupping her face between his soft hands.
"Yes?" she replied softly, not scared but cautious, her chocolate eyes looking deep into his warm grey eyes that she once believed to be as cold as steel.
He didn't answer her. He leaned towards her and was surprised when she too met his lips. Their kiss was sweet and faltering, neither taking it any further. Hermione's hand fell on top of his chest; she could feel the rhythm of his heart flutter against her fingertips. His thumbs rubbed against her cheeks, giving her a sense of ease, like she shouldn't be nervous, that this was natural between them.
She pulled away for air, before kissing him lightly again, like she wanted the moment last. He felt the same, and he still held her as she looked at him.
"I've been wanting to do that for ages," he explained softly.
She smiled at him shyly, biting her bottom lip, "It's about time."
They had their first date two days later.
Hermione watched as Draco sat back on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees with his head in his hands. She walked over to stand in front of him. He looked up at her and sighed heavily, dropping his head lightly onto her stomach.
"I'm sorry," he said loudly, his voice muffled in her shirt, "This isn't a time to let me—"
"Draco," she said softly, "I'm pregnant, I'm not a china doll that will break with a little row from you."
He looked up at her, "I know."
She shook her head at him, "No, I'm won't break, I'm stronger than what you take me for."
"I know, it's just…it's our child, our baby. I want to keep it—you safe…you two are the family I never had and want, Granger."
The term of endearment was coated in sincerity when he called her by her maiden name. It was playful, good-humored, but sometimes he said it with so much love that it would almost bring tears to her eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere," she told him softly, "I'm here now and I don't care what Ronald thinks because we're all that matters. We are having a child Draco, something that is half of us. We get to see it grow and fail and be loved…Ronald obviously doesn't want to love it and I'm alright with that because I have you."
He smiled, resting his hands on her hips, "I'm glad I have you," he looked down and kissed her stomach, speaking to it in a child's voice "And you, and if Weaselbee ever makes things bad for mommy, then he's going to be looking at the end of daddy's wand from his backside."
Hermione laughed as he talked to her stomach, rubbing and peppering it with kisses. It was a side of him he only revealed to her—his professional aristocratic self played out only in front of others, while this intimate playful Draco was only for her, like their own secret.
He stood up, placing a kiss on her forehead, "I'll make us some breakfast?"
She nodded, smiling up at him, when he made his way to the door when she had a craving.
"Draco…"
He turned to look at her then saw her guilty expression.
"No," he said simply.
"Please?"
"No, you already finished off the Peanut Butter and Nutella yesterday,"
"So? There's the Convenient Gas Station down the road,"
"Down the road is five miles away,"
"Are you a wizard or aren't you?" she teased.
He eyed her, obviously not amused, "Granger."
"Please?" she appealed, wrapping her hands around his waist.
He rolled his eyes then removed himself from her grasp, "These cravings are getting ridiculous! Next thing you know you'll be asking for chocolate from Switzerland,"
"Oo you know that really sounds good…" she joked.
"Oh Merlin…" he moaned dragging himself out the room.
"I love you," she called with a smile.
He turned towards her in the doorway and smiled at her, "I love you too."
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PS My beta is in Paris right now so excuse the errors, spelling etc.