Phew! Thank you all for the reviews. I have to be honest. I was a bit nervous as I wasn't sure this one would be well liked. I'm glad so many have enjoyed it. As my thanks, I'd like to give you chapter two. If you enjoy this chapter, please consider leaving a review.
Hers
Draco watched as her finger ran over the lines on the text's page. He watched her lips, lost momentarily in the memory of how they felt against his own the first time, as she mouthed the words on the page. For all her innocence, she was the best of any of the witches he'd ever kissed in school.
"No, this is wrong," she shook her head. She picked up the quill he'd given her and scratched through his notes, writing a correction in her small but neat letters above the lines.
He bit his lip as he resisted the urge to run his fingers through her now dry curls. They were ever abundant but with her using his shampoo and conditioner, she now smelled like him. He'd not noticed the natural honeyed highlights that ran through the strands in the proper lighting. He'd probably never been close enough to see.
He'd found her swotty behavior so annoying in school, certain that one day she'd dislocate her shoulder with how quickly her arm shot into the air to answer a question.
Yet as he watched her brown eyes dart across the pages of the text and his notes and appreciated the small shape of her nose coupled the faint smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks—she had none elsewhere and he would know—he felt stupid.
He felt stupid as he sat next to her at his desk and listened while she muttered to herself as she critiqued his Transfiguration notes from the end of last year. They'd needed a distraction after they'd heard the yelling coming from the foyer.
He felt stupid ignoring how she'd matured. Sure, he'd seen it. He'd heard other boys talking about it but he'd refused to openly acknowledge it. Buckteeth gone, and hair abundant but managed with the right time and products, she wasn't unattractive. Perhaps she lacked the classic features of someone like Daphne Greengrass but he now felt certain that he preferred chocolate brown to blue irises and preferred the warmth in her brown hair to the pale blonde of the other witch. She was lovely in her own ways. Her brilliant mind was a turn on once he got past the annoyance of the past. If you took time to listen to her, really listen to the things she had to say and the brilliant ideas that she worked through, you couldn't ignore her unique intelligence.
His doubt already having been growing, he decided sometime after they'd been trapped together that if muggles could be responsible for bringing a witch like her into this world then what they were all fighting for was in vain.
"You have a solid thesis statement. It's just the execution, Draco," she commented, lifting her head finally to glance at him.
He swallowed when her eyes widened as she caught him staring. It was happening more often lately. "Are you calling my writing sloppy then, Hermione?"
They'd made a silent agreement to address one another by their proper names.
She frowned at him then, not picking up on his teasing tone. "I only meant that you need to clean up your discussion a bit. You talk in circles in the fourth paragraph before making your point. Simpler is better."
He nodded in acceptance of her criticism. She'd explained the way muggles sent their children to school and the instruction she'd had before Hogwarts on writing and grammar. He'd had the best tutors money could buy but he knew the tossers never corrected him the way they should've. He was no slouch at Hogwarts but she always clearly came in first in their class.
"You're smarter than I am," he admitted quietly, not missing but also not acknowledging her shocked look. "If you say that, then it must be true."
He was in awe of her now and kicking himself for not seeing it before when he'd had the chance. How Weasley never jumped at the chance to be with her when she'd clearly been interested was beyond him. She was his now.
However, he knew that one day, hopefully soon, Potter would finally win and he'd have to give her back because she'd never truly be his.
She waited patiently in her office. By the time she'd been rescued, going back to Hogwarts held no appeal. She studied while recovering, ignoring those who told her to take it easy, and passed her NEWTS with some of the highest marks Hogwarts had ever seen. She jumped on a chance to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in an administrative role, intent to help reform the department from the inside out.
She stood finally when Harry opened her door and led Draco inside.
He was clean again as she'd requested that Harry make sure he had a shower. His hair was cropped shorter than usual, growing out already from the last time they'd cut his hair, the way they buzzed all prisoners hair off these days. The clothes she'd brought—tan muggle trousers and a plain blue button up—were a bit snug but he fit in them nonetheless. She'd have to take him shopping for new clothes now, she silently mused.
"He's all yours," Harry tried to joke. He cringed when it fell flat and his face turned serious. "Bennett said to take the rest of the week, Hermione. We'll see you on Monday."
Draco watched as Harry Potter left them alone. He'd been more than a little startled to find Potter and Weasley both being kind to him. He'd expected glares and insults from the duo but they'd remained quiet as they stood guard while he showered in the aurors' locker room. Without even asking, he knew that she'd told them everything.
He swallowed when he met her brown eyes finally. She looked better than he'd last seen her of course but she looked better than he remembered in general. Back to her normal weight, she stood before him in a tailored skirt suit. Her hair was a few inches shorter than before but long enough that her curls still fell just past her shoulders. He itched to run his hands through it again.
"You look well," he finally nodded to her as she rounded her desk.
He didn't miss the nameplate on the edge. No wonder it had been such an urgent need to rouse him from his uncomfortable sleep so early that morning when he'd been escorted from the filthy cell he'd lived in for so long now. She worked for the bleeding Ministry
"Yes," she nodded, "well I was a lot healthier than the others they recovered. They questioned me about that of course and I told them it was because you snuck me extra food. Harry was quite thankful to you for that, having seen the others."
Draco nodded and watched her closely as she edged closer to him. With her bag on her shoulder, she took his hand, noting the way he shivered at her touch.
"Let's go."
He followed her through the Ministry, ignoring the odd looks. News clearly hadn't spread yet. Only a matter of time.
He followed her through London and held her hand again when she disapparated them into a neighborhood outside of the city proper.
Hermione watched him glance around them nervously. "I—we live here," she told him quietly. "I purchased it after I was released from St. Mungo's with the funds the Ministry bestowed on Ron, Harry, and I after the war. Harry lives nearby at Grimmauld Place."
He didn't meet her eyes but continued to follow her obediently. She'd been in St. Mungos. That meant he'd done a poor job in keeping her healthy.
"I'm sorry," he told her when she stopped in front of a small but pristine gated yard. He studied the façade of the house. It wasn't huge but it was no hovel either. Average. It was just average. The thought was strangely comforting.
"Why," she asked him before she stepped into the yard.
"I—you weren't well then. I didn't keep you well enough."
Hermione shook her head stubbornly, annoyed oddly with the way he wouldn't meet her eyes now. "Draco, I was fine. They wanted me checked out though, physically and mentally. The healers were quite amazed honestly with just how well I was when they brought me in."
He nodded but she felt he was only pacifying her. She shook her head and opened the gate to step inside. He followed again, up the steps and to the front door where she discreetly released the wards.
"Is the neighborhood…are they muggles," he asked quietly.
"Yes," she answered, "is that a problem?"
"No, I'm quite relieved actually."
Hermione's brow furrowed at that but now wasn't the time to dig into it. Instead, she filed that comment away to delve into later. Now she needed to get him settled and feed him.
Draco followed his wife inside and stopped in the small foyer as she took off her heels, standing nearly a foot shorter than him again and hung her bag on the hooks on the wall. It was clear that she was still getting settled as there were a few stray boxes and the walls looked rather bare. Yet she'd chosen tasteful, if simple, furniture and it looked quite comfortable. It was more than he could say for the home he was raised in.
Hermione turned to face him before she went any further. "I wanted to let you settle in and get comfortable today. I didn't touch your vaults to buy anything but this is as much yours as mine."
For now, he told himself. Divorces were difficult in the magical world but he was intent to agree to one when she inevitably brought it up once his probation was done. Those were the terms—she was responsible for him for the next year. Despite the closeness they shared during her time in the manor, he wasn't naïve enough to think she'd truly want him now.
"My vaults," he asked curiously.
Hermione licked her lips and turned to lead him further inside, knowing now that he would follow dutifully. "You're the only Malfoy left, Draco." She wouldn't remind him of what he already knew about his parents' fates. They'd died hand in hand during the final battle. "Being your legal wife, everything in your vaults was transferred into my ownership."
He nodded but said not a word.
She showed him each room of the house both upstairs and down. Showed him the bathroom and the basic toiletries she'd prepared for him
"We can go out tomorrow and get the things you like. I didn't know your sizes for clothes so I only bought a few things," she told him over dinner.
"I'm rubbish at cooking," she'd told him.
He'd not known what a delivery pizza was until the muggle showed up on the doorstep with one. He ate it without complaint, actually enjoying his first real meal of freedom. He tried to ignore the way she worried her lower lip as he ate quietly. He did many things quietly now. The boastful boy was gone and in his place was a stoic man.
He showered again while she was reading in bed. Nothing he did made him feel clean enough. When he emerged from the bathroom in a comfortable pair of cotton pajamas pants and a t-shirt, she set her book aside on the nightstand before she approached him.
She was nervous. He knew her emotions well enough, even after so much time apart, that he could tell.
Hermione stopped near the foot of her bed as he stood in the bathroom doorway. "There's a guestroom with a bed setup if you'd like."
She didn't meet his eyes and he took the moment to study her. He saw her in his dreams at night while sleeping in his cell. He imagined her warmth huddled against him while he lay pressed against the cold wall.
The entire day had been surreal and he almost couldn't fathom that she was real. In her small shorts and simple t-shirt, he itched to touch her but didn't dare. He wouldn't soil her further and the danger was now gone. She'd not welcome him, he was sure.
Draco finally nodded. "If that's where you want me."
Her head shot up finally and she met his eyes. "I—I don't sleep well really. They tried both calming and sleeping draughts but they don't help much."
He swallowed, "You always slept through the night with me."
Hermione nodded and she shifted on her feet awkwardly, "That's what I told Harry. I understand if you don't want to but…would you sleep here? With me?"
He didn't allow his shock at her request to show. She was already uncertain enough and he was past the days where he teased her for any sign of weakness.
He didn't answer and instead made his way to the side of the bed he'd always slept on. He saw her shoulders visibly relax and she went around to her side as well.
He'd spent months in a cold, dark cell when he wasn't doing manual labor just trying to remember the way it had felt to hold her, protect her. He'd begun to forget the feel of her skin or the pattern of her breathing when she fell asleep. If his last selfish indulgence should be to hold her so she could get to sleep, he'd take it. He'd berate himself later for being so weak.
She waved her wand once they were both under the covers and shrouded them in darkness.
Draco lay patiently, wondering exactly what they were to one another. She'd been his wife—was still his wife—and yet he felt like a stranger. What would she do with him once his probation was complete? What did he want her to do with him once it was complete?
He'd kept her clean and as comfortable as an imprisoned houseguest could be and yet she didn't smell near as lovely as she did now. She turned to him after a few moments in the darkness and pressed her back flush against his chest as they'd done before on so many nights while they pretended that none of the horror around them was happening.
"Your arm," she whispered in the darkness.
Draco inhaled the scent of lavender on her hair and wove a strong arm around her waist.
Hermione slept peacefully for the first time in months and didn't bother to question anything beyond the present moment. He smelled clean and comforting. He felt just as he did before.
Draco felt his body sag when Potter did it. The bloody bastard was gone. It was over—finally.
He'd lost track of Hermione as soon as they'd found her. She and Weasley had gone off to do whatever the bleeding fuck it was that would end this shit and he'd felt a gnawing pain each moment she was gone. She'd become such a part of his waking moments, his constant need to watch over and protect her was exhausting but he'd committed himself to it.
His false sense of hatred had quickly bled away into something more as he'd who she truly was. He'd been devastated by Voldemort's plan but he wasn't so sick as to torture her the way they wished for him to do. The longer he was around her in private, the more protective he became. After sometime, she read to him at night. He argued with her about surface topics—anything to keep the real horrors at bay when they were alone. At night, he indulged in holding her, not realizing how much it actually helped them both.
What would happen now?
He found her again as they began rounding up Death Eaters. He rushed to her and cupped her face in his hands.
"Merlin, you're safe," he breathed.
"Draco, I—"
He shook his head, the familiar taste of iron on his tongue from the multiple hexes he'd taken.
"No matter what they say, no matter what happens, I want you to know that I'm sorry."
No one saw when he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Someone will love you properly one day," he whispered against her sweaty curls as he held her in their stolen moment. "I'm sorry for what you've endured."
He was taken away before she could respond.
Draco woke alone the next morning and found another pair of muggle trousers and a grey button up left for him on the end of the bed. He brushed his teeth and changed. There was a pair of clean muggle trainers as well but they were a bit too small when he tried them on.
He trudged down the stairs quietly, shoes in hand, and found her in the kitchen. She didn't notice him at first and he stopped to take in the sight.
The kitchen was painted white with large windows. The early morning sunlight filtering in through them caught the natural golden highlights in her hair and he swallowed hard. Curls with intermittent waves were pinned back from her face but her locks fell just past her slim shoulders. Her back was to him as she stood at the stove and he allowed his eyes to trace her form slowly. She was real and no figment of his imagination. Less than twenty-four hours before he'd been imagining what she looked like now and here she was in the flesh.
Shaking his head, he finally made his presence known.
"Good morning," he greeted timidly.
Hermione turned to him with a small smile. She didn't like how uncertain he was. Like a shell of his former self. While she'd come out of everything stronger, he seemed to be broken in places she couldn't see.
"Have a seat, Draco."
He did as she told him and soon a plate of eggs and toast floated onto the table in front of him accompanied by a glass of orange juice. It was quite simple really but he felt grateful nonetheless.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," she nodded as she took the seat across from him at the small table. She eyed the shoes thoughtfully and watched as he took his first bites. "Are they too big or too small?"
"Too small," he muttered around a bite of food. His manners had clearly devolved during his time in the wizarding prison.
"I'll have to charm them then. I didn't think you'd want to keep wearing those dirty shoes they gave you. I'd forgotten these here yesterday."
Draco shrugged when he spotted the morning copy of the Daily Prophet had already arrived and was sitting haphazardly on the table. He pulled it closer to read as he shoveled his food into his mouth eagerly. She may have thought she was a poor cook but it was still better than what he'd become used to eating.
Love Saves the Day—War Heroine's Memories Prove that Malfoy Heir Protected Her During the War
After months of negotiating, a new hearing was granted for former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. The Wizengamot assembled just yesterday and heard testimony of Mr. Malfoy's legal wife and war heroine, Hermione Granger. Ms. Granger offered her memories of her time held in captivity after her forced marriage to the Malfoy heir as proof of his innocence. Readers will recall that Mr. Malfoy was accused of torture and abuse upon his first trial—one where his legal wife was unable to attend due to her recovering in St. Mungos. Ms. Granger had been pressing the Ministry for months to hear her appeal.
Sources who were inside the hearing tell us that Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger's forced marriage was not at all like it was originally painted. Mr. Malfoy never once forced himself on his wife and actually protected her from the others inside Malfoy Manor where she was held captive. Our source would not give the specifics of these memories, but only that Mr. Malfoy appeared to have serious feelings of affection for his wife. Could it be that the horrors of war brought this young couple from opposite sides closer together? That he acted out of love the entire time?
Mr. Malfoy was released yesterday to his wife and will serve a year of probation which will include Ministry approved community service. The pair was seen leaving the Ministry together, hand-in-hand.
An all too familiar sneer twisted his mouth as he pushed the paper away.
"Rubbish," he muttered, mostly to himself.
"What is," she asked, not bothering to see what the paper was droning on about now. One would have thought they'd run out of material by now but it didn't seem to be happening, especially not after yesterday.
"They think I protected you because I loved you."
Hermione set her utensils down and met his eyes calmly. "And what's wrong with them believing that? Who cares?"
"I didn't do those things because I loved you, Hermione."
She stared him straight in the eyes for a moment before she shrugged. "No, you did what you thought was right."
"Exactly." Because he'd seen a chance, just one, to save someone other than himself. And he knew she was important. She would go on to serve a higher purpose and aiding her was his one way to contribute to saving their world.
"But you do love me now," she stated more than questioned, his final words to her before he was taken away ringing in her mind. "I'm not stupid, Draco. You think I don't remember what you said to me before they took you away?
He swallowed and couldn't meet her eyes any longer. Yesterday had been like reopening a wound and today it was trying to heal. He felt raw under her gaze.
He'd not truly realized the gravity of those words. He'd been a fool to think she'd forget or interpret them differently.
"Yes. For all your stubbornness and pride in school, I wasn't too prideful myself to admit by the end that loving you was also right. Thinking of you was the only thing that kept me from losing my mind in that hell hole."
She continued to stare at him. His downcast eyes bothered her. "Then does it matter why they think you did it at first? Whether because it was right or because of love? Are either of those wrong? You and I both know the end result and that's all that matters to me."
His head snapped up then, dark fury in his eyes again. She was relieved to see any emotion, even anger, in him. He was still in there then. They'd not completely broken him.
"But I'm…I was one of them! I let them say things to you, horrible things."
The mix of anger and regret in his eyes and twisting his mouth did something to her.
It gave her hope. Her feelings weren't one-sided and there were equal parts of emotions at play between them, even if they weren't yet at the same place in they needed from each other.
"Because arguing would have had me killed, Draco. And you never let anyone touch me. You protected me the best you could. I'm alive because of you. Now you're free because of me. Accept it."
His shoulders slumped and he pushed his half eaten breakfast away. "I took from you when I shouldn't have." He shook his head at himself, some inner battle he wasn't voicing. "I—you had no choice and yet I touched you anyway. I was selfish and I wanted you. It might as well have been rape."
Her heart fell to her stomach then. Is that what he thought? That she wouldn't have truly fought him if she'd been so against it? Is that why he appeared so bruised and broken inside?
True, she'd spoken with a counselor at length for a few months about her feelings for her forced husband. Could she trust them? Were they just a product of a bad situation? Had she just developed Stockholm syndrome?
Yet whenever she delved back into her memories and relived the parts where the outside world couldn't get into her gilded cage with him, she saw nothing but a man hell bent on sheltering her. A man who, for whatever reason at first, knew he needed to do one thing right if nothing else. A man who had enjoyed her company and tried to actually learn about her in a way others never had.
"You're terrible at chess," he smirked.
Hermione sat cross-legged on the floor with him, glowering across the chessboard. "You're still a prat, you know? I'm not a natural strategist. That's always been Harry. I'm a planner, yes, but I often have to stop and think. I don't have the natural ability to successfully rework a plan last minute."
Draco stared at her as he lay on his side. The manor was quiet for once as many were off on one of that snake's foolhardy missions. He wished desperately to release his caged bird but knew the consequences would be dire for both if they were caught. Instead, he sought to distract her as he had with his books.
Without pressure, she was funny and clever. She was charming in the way she blushed when she caught him staring, something that was becoming more of a habit as of late. Yet beneath that she was constantly on edge. Without a wand, she was vulnerable. Without him, she'd be as good as dead.
"Don't shortchange yourself," was his response as he moved his next piece. "You told me about how you got the three of you through that monstrous obstacle course first year. That certainly counts as good last minute strategy."
"I don't know what to think when you compliment me," she admitted as casually as she could.
"Take it for what it is and don't overanalyze it."
And yet she did overanalyze it. It took months to get to that point where they weren't having stilted conversations. With so much time together, eventually they had to talk. When they did, they realized they weren't so different. But he was careful with what he shared.
"I consented, Draco. That's very important here. We were in a bad situation and you were kind. You gave me the option to say no, knowing it would put us at further risk if they kept asking questions. I said yes. It wasn't ideal, no, but I consented and you didn't do anything I didn't want."
He met her eyes again and for the first time she truly understood how he'd been torturing himself since the beginning. He'd told her. He'd said he didn't want to be guilty of that. Of all the things he'd been forced to do, taking away her choice was not one he'd wanted on his soul.
"I swear on my wand, Draco," she insisted. Truly, she'd never felt violated by him.
She needed him to believe her. Because if he stayed, if he wanted to explore a real relationship between them in this marriage in the time that they had together over the next year, then she'd be expecting him to touch her that way again. He'd made her feel safe and loved in a place where fear had been constantly on the edges of her mind. She needed it again. She needed him.
He merely nodded and dropped the subject.
After she charmed the shoes two sizes larger, they set out to find him new clothes.
"We can't go into Diagon Alley," he insisted after they'd selected no less than eight pairs of trousers, and twice as many shirts and a couple of jackets in a few muggle shops.
He still favored dark colors but she didn't argue when he allowed her to select his aftershave and other personal products. He'd secretly enjoyed the way her face heated when he chanced a little flirtation and asked 'what do you want me to smell like?'
Hermione assumed it must have been due to separation because all she'd wanted to do was take him home after that comment. It wouldn't have been appropriate though. Neither was ready for that yet.
Instead, she'd surprised him when she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek softly before choosing for him and continuing about their shopping.
"We have to," she told him as she pulled him along to finish their purchase. "You need a wand. They destroyed yours when you were imprisoned."
The idea of stepping foot anywhere magical at the moment made his stomach clench with nausea. However, he'd do as she asked of him. He owed her that.
He avoided eye contact with everyone as they passed through the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley. He knew people were staring and somehow his strong wife managed to hold her head high and pretend she didn't notice.
She also never let go of his hand and he was eternally thankful for that. He needed her strength.
Ollivander smiled when they entered his shop and Draco felt some madness must have come over him. After finding a suitable wand, the old man refused their money.
"I'll not accept payment knowing what you did for your wife, Mr. Malfoy," the man smiled kindly.
Draco hadn't known what to say but Hermione thanked him for his kindness and they left.
"News always has traveled fast," she muttered wryly.
Draco didn't understand and instead stopped to charm their shopping bags until they were small enough to fit into his trouser pockets. The feeling of magic felt odd and foreign yet familiar all at once as he recalled it. It made him feel the slightest bit like himself—only a cleaner version of the man he'd been. He'd make certain that this new wand never experienced dark magic.
Hermione stood watching quietly. "It comes back to you quicker than you think," she told him calmly.
He realized then that she knew exactly what he was feeling as she'd been without a wand the entire time she'd been at the manor.
He stowed the new wand in his pocket and held out his hand to her. She eyed it for a moment and slowly wove her fingers through his. With gold in his pockets again—she'd stopped first to withdraw from the Malfoy vaults for him—he felt the need to do something. He'd never been very brave, mostly just bark and no bite, but he wanted to do something for her. Something he'd not been able to do before when he'd realized that he had fallen in love with her.
Hermione allowed him to lead her into a jewelry store that had opened next to Madam Malkin's, confused by his interest. She noticed the way the witch behind the counter greeted them warmly, a copy of the morning's Prophet visible near the register.
Draco pulled Hermione to the counter as he glanced at the options. She bit her lip when she realized what he was intent on buying.
"Draco, that's really unnecessary."
He gave her a sharp look before he motioned to the witch behind the counter, a bit of his old arrogant self emerging.
"That one," he nodded as he pointed into the immaculate glass case.
"Fine choice," the witch grinned.
"Draco," Hermione tried to argue with a shake of her head.
She'd not noticed before that he still wore the dull silver ring he'd been given when they exchanged vows. Yet the realization made her stomach flip oddly. She'd not been able to be convinced to remove hers either.
Draco ignored her protests and lifted her left hand in his. He removed the dull silver ring and placed it carefully on the counter before he slid the oval diamond ring onto her slender finger.
"I broke the nose of the guard that tried to take mine from me," he admitted quietly as he watched her eyes glaze over while she took in the ring. "They gave up after that and I never gave them anymore trouble. We called it a truce."
She met his eyes finally and noted the softness that hadn't been there before. "I don't know what to say."
With his heart in his throat, he summoned courage that he didn't truly feel. What he was about to ask for was something he didn't think he deserved. It would likely be presumptuous but after spending all day with him and she didn't shy away once, he selfishly had to try.
"Say that we'll try. You're stuck with me at least for the next year. If it doesn't work, if we don't work, in this new world…I'll grant you a divorce and whatever else you want from me. But I love you…and I'm scared of who I am without you."
Hermione swallowed, wanting desperately to kiss him but not wanting to have an audience when she finally did so. She'd never imagined anyone would say such passionate things to her of all people but especially not someone like Draco Malfoy.
"Okay," she nodded. "I'd like that as well."
"I want to replace the band, too," Draco told the woman and of course she smiled once more at them.
When they left the shop, the gold in Draco's pocket was lighter and her hand now sported a lovely diamond studded band to match the ring. He'd refused to trade his own plain band, however, opting to keep it as a reminder of where they'd started. He was soiled and scarred but she…she was still clean and unmarred.
A new sense of pride settled in his chest and made him hold his head just a little higher as she was now wearing his rings and not just the tainted metal they'd given her when she'd been forced to be with him.
They went home after that, neither paying much attention to the interest they garnered as they passed through the wizarding high street.
An owl was waiting for her when they returned home. Harry wanted to know if it would be okay to visit for dinner. Draco merely shrugged his shoulders when she asked if he'd be okay with it. She was uncertain about accepting as she'd still not kissed him yet.
"How are things," Harry asked her after dinner.
Draco had gone up to shower again. Dinner had been a rather quiet affair. Draco spoke little but he ate heartily and that alone gave the two former Gryffindors enough encouragement that he'd be alright.
Hermione shrugged as they stood talking quietly in the foyer. "He's carrying a lot of guilt. I'm not quite sure how to help him."
Harry nodded in understanding. Knowing what he did now after the war, he felt they'd all pegged Draco's character wrong, at least in the end.
"Is he trying to buy your forgiveness," he asked carefully, eyeing her left hand.
It was well known between him, Ron, and Ginny about the fight she'd put up in St. Mungo's when they'd tried to take her ring from her. No one had been able to understand her attachment to it, least of all Ron, until she'd shown them her memories. They'd been uncomfortable to watch but the relief it had given her two best friends was priceless.
But I love you…and I'm scared of who I am without you.
Hermione sighed, "No, Harry. He just…I think he just wanted to start fresh. The way I fell in love with him…it wasn't normal. I think he's trying to give me something normal. Maybe for himself as well."
He nodded and leaned down to hug her. "I trust your judgement, Hermione."
She shut the door behind him and after locking and warding the door she turned to find Draco seated at the base of the stairs waiting for her.
He'd showered and his pale, blonde hair was still damp and looking as if he'd done little more than run a towel over it. She had a hard time seeing this man as the same boy who'd once bullied her so mercilessly in school.
"We forgot pajamas," he told her when she approached him.
Hermione stared into his grey eyes as he looked up at her in the dim lighting. Her eyes slowly traveled down his body and realized he wasn't wearing a shirt, only the pair of cotton pajama bottoms from the night before.
He didn't flinch when she lifted her left hand and cupped his cheek gently. She stroked her thumb over his prominent cheekbone. He stared right back into her eyes then and lifted his chin in acceptance when she leaned forward.
She kissed him gently with both hands framing his face then. It was a short kiss but left her heart hammering in her chest when they pulled apart with a soft sound.
"I don't know that I mind," she admitted somewhat shyly.
A slow and familiar smirk curled his lips then. Her heart settled upon seeing some visage of his personality coming to the surface.
"I'm yours," he told her.
When his arms curled around her in bed that night, she buried her face in his chest this time, inhaling the clean, masculine scent of him.
Hers, her mind told her as she drifted to sleep.
