Author's Note: Thanks as always for the wonderful feedback on this story. I'm so glad to hear so many of you are enjoying this iteration of Draco and Hermione. It was a special one for me to write. Let me know what you think! xoxo
Thanks to Kyonomiko and LaBelladone x for their assistance with this story.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.
"Hermione, you've got a visitor." Hermione glanced up in surprise as Etta approached her at the diner. Etta's lips were twitching as she gestured to the tables of with a tilt of her head. "Why don't you take an early break?"
"Okay," Hermione blinked, her eyes scanning the patrons. A flush crept to her cheeks at the sight of a familiar head of blond hair.
Malfoy stared as she approached, his eyes penetrating her own and making her feel oddly conscious of her clothes and the way her hair was thrown into a messy bun.
But he only smiled, a murmured, "Hi."
"Hi," Hermione responded, sinking into the seat across from him. "What are you doing here?"
"Can't come for a brew?" he asked, smirking as he gestured at his cold mug of ale.
"Of course you can," Hermione muttered, flushing.
"Maybe I wanted to see you," he said absently, glancing out the window. "Or is that not allowed either?"
"It's allowed," Hermione said, unable to fight the smile breaking across her face.
His fingers grazed the back of her hand, and Hermione turned her hand to entwine with his. "Come over later?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.
"Okay," Hermione breathed.
Something flashed in her peripheral vision and she turned to see Etta and Celeste standing together against the back counter, wearing identical expectant grins as they stared at her and Malfoy. Huffing a sigh, she merely shook her head.
Hermione could scarcely believe how quickly time was flying. It was as if, upon reaching August, her days had begun going twice as fast. The month had been racing past, and Hermione would be leaving Whitby for King's Cross station in less than two weeks.
For all her interest about how Hogwarts would be as an eighth year student and the logistics around that, her heart sank every time she thought of saying goodbye to Whitby and all the people she had come to know, who had been so openly welcoming from the very start.
From Celeste and Etta and the others working at the diner, to Finn and Brix and the crew.
And Malfoy.
It was easy, while in Whitby, to take things one day at a time, and let them simply flow.
She had seen Malfoy a handful of times since their day of exploring town, and she found that while she enjoyed his company more and more, there was a part of her that was wary of growing too attached. He still hadn't clarified whether he would be returning to Hogwarts, staying in Whitby, or going home to Wiltshire to wait out the rest of his non-magical sentence.
He hadn't brought up the topic and she had followed his lead. If nothing else, she knew how torn he was on the subject.
A part of her feared what might become of whatever it was between them, should they both return to Hogwarts. But yet, greater was the fear that she might be about to lose something so unexpectedly beautiful.
Because when she was with him, they talked, and laughed, and shared about books and food and things they were passionate about. She shared with him her love of magical creatures, and her desire to do more for them – he told her of his dream to open his own apothecary.
But yet, the warm winds of Whitby still held tightly to that part of her heart which had accepted the seawater and the fishy air as its home.
Hermione had always considered herself pragmatic and reasonable.
But now she wondered, should Malfoy choose to stay in Whitby, whether she would be able to leave on her own.
"Earth to Hermione," Celeste said, giggling as she waved a hand in the brunette's line of vision.
Startled, Hermione jumped, realizing she had been drifting off at work.
"Sorry, Celeste," she murmured with a grin. "Lost in my thoughts, I suppose."
"I'm not surprised," Celeste said with a glance toward the window, where Brix's crew had taken up their usual table at the end of a long day. Hermione flushed as she glanced at Malfoy, who appeared to be drawing something out on the wooden table with a finger in demonstration.
Hermione offered her friend a meek, apologetic smile.
"I was just asking you what you wanted to do for your going away party next week!" Celeste exclaimed.
"Oh," Hermione said, shaking her head, "I don't need anything, Celeste. Truly."
"Fine," Celeste said, rolling her eyes, "I meant our end of summer party then, obviously. It won't be too crazy. Us, Etta, the crew, Finn. Your blond non-boyfriend, of course."
Hermione blushed again. "I suppose we could use my house."
"Deal," Celeste said with a brilliant grin. "Saturday the –" she peered at a calendar on the wall. "Twenty-ninth."
"Fine," Hermione said with a sigh, resolving if there was a huge mess she could use her wand just the once. She had already contacted Kingsley with Malfoy's owl to arrange a portkey directly from Whitby to King's Cross for the morning of September first.
"Excellent," Celeste declared, "I'll tell the boys."
Awkwardly, Hermione followed her co-worker as Celeste strode confidently to the table by the window, and announced they would be having a party at Hermione's house the following weekend.
Malfoy glanced at her, his eyes wide with surprise and amusement. "You're hosting a party."
"Yes," Hermione sniffed, raising her brows. "Are you coming?"
"I wouldn't miss it," he said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, someone is going to have to help you prepare."
"And you're so experienced in throwing parties," Hermione snorted.
Malfoy simply held his hands up, his expression that of 'duh'.
"This isn't a gala of England's high aristocracy," Hermione teased. Celeste shot Hermione a questioning glance, then looked back at Malfoy. Hermione chewed her lip, wondering if she had crossed some boundary he had meant to keep concealed.
Malfoy simply shrugged, a charming smile on his face. "No matter."
"I'll be there," Finn exclaimed cheerfully. There was a general chorus of consent from the other members of the crew and Celeste grinned, satisfied.
As it turned out, Malfoy's idea of helping her prepare for the party was to show up with what seemed to Hermione to be a gratuitous amount of alcohol.
Hermione had taken the day off to clean her cottage and prepare for the gathering, and was just finalizing a plate of chopped vegetables when he arrived, looking furtively at the spread she had prepared.
"What sort of crowd are you expecting?" he asked, setting his collection of alcohol out on the table, and placing some of it in a pail of ice. He plucked a cube of cheese from a platter of cheese and sausage and then considered for a moment and fixed himself a plate.
"I want to be a good hostess," Hermione said, stubbornly folding her arms. "Who doesn't like food at a party?"
"I'm just saying," he said, biting the end off of a pickle, "this certainly isn't expected."
He poured two drinks and set them carefully on coasters on the coffee table, and then sat down on the couch and picked at his plate of food. Sighing, Hermione took a seat beside him.
"I suppose I just want our friends to enjoy themselves," she said quietly. "I want them to remember me."
Malfoy frowned and nudged her with his shoulder. "They will. Of course they will, Granger." He set the plate down on his lap and slung an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Thanks," she breathed, slipping her hand into his as it hung across her front. She fidgeted with a bracelet around his wrist made of thread in a complicated sort of braid with her other hand. "Why do you wear this?"
Malfoy snickered and fidgeted with the bracelet himself. "I don't have a choice. It was a metal cuff to restrain my magic, in case I tried to learn wandless magic. Only I had them transfigure it so I didn't look like a prisoner, coming here. The mark is bad enough, but most people think it's just a bad tattoo."
Her gaze fell on what remained of the Dark Mark on his forearm; it had been slowly fading since the fall of Voldemort.
"Right," Hermione said, suddenly flustered. It was so easy to forget, sometimes, how completely different their backgrounds were. Especially here in Whitby, where everything was so equalized. She turned to him, smiling. "At least you'll get your magic back, eventually."
"Absolutely," he said, stacking meat and cheese on a cracker one-handed and eating the whole thing.
Nodding, Hermione took a sip of the drink he had mixed for her. It wasn't as strong as she might have expected. She wanted to tell him she hoped he would come back to Hogwarts, but knew it was a decision he needed to make on his own.
"Are you looking forward to tonight?" Hermione asked brightly, turning to him.
"Sure, it'll be fun." He smirked. Then his expression softened and he squeezed her hand, still within his. "I like spending time with you." He laughed out loud. "Merlin, that's something I never thought I'd hear myself say."
"I never thought I'd hear you say such a thing, either," Hermione said, chuckling. "Or that I'd agree with the sentiment."
"You know," he said, making a face as he tugged her nearer, "insufferable swot that you are."
"Pompous git," Hermione sniped as her lips met his.
Two hours later, the party was in full swing, and several people had shown up Hermione didn't know. She stalked past the food table, her gait a little unsteady, her eyelids half-lowered as she approached Malfoy, who was in conversation with Celeste's brother Nick.
When he saw her, he excused himself from the conversation and strode up to Hermione, an easy grin on his face and an empty glass in his hand.
"Hi," he said, his grey eyes sparkling.
"I'll have you take note," Hermione said, wiggling her brows, "that most of the food has been consumed." She gestured behind her in the direction of the table, upon which most of the platters had been greatly depleted.
"I concede, oh great caterer of parties," Malfoy snickered, "people loved your food."
He sauntered to the drinks table, pouring himself another. Hermione hastily set her empty cup beside his and he poured her one as well.
"Yes they did," Hermione asserted with a nod.
"You're drunk," Malfoy observed.
"Perhaps," Hermione agreed. "And you?"
"Pretty well."
"Good," Hermione leered. She took a generous swig of her drink and slipped her hand into his. She pulled him to an empty couch and fell into it rather gracelessly.
"Hermione Granger, drunk," Malfoy snickered. "This should be interesting."
"It will be," Hermione said, kissing him, then pulled back. "Draco Malfoy drunk on Muggle liquor."
"It's not bad," he murmured, kissing her again. He blinked at her, a wry grin creeping across his face. "I like how you say Draco."
"I don't say Draco," Hermione said, raising one eyebrow.
"You literally just did," he said, laughing. "Two seconds ago. After I called you Hermione."
"That sounds so weird," Hermione breathed quickly. "You have to call me Granger, and I have to call you Malfoy because that's our names."
"Our names are Draco and Hermione," he muttered, leaning in.
"Right," Hermione said, holding up one finger. "But, we can't call each other that. It isn't natural."
"Why not," he whispered. "What are you going to do if I start calling you Hermione."
"I'm going to..." she began, blinking. "Probably I'll do nothing, but I won't call you Draco."
"You just did," he pointed out, "again."
Hermione threw up her hands, making a noise of frustration. "You're so manipulative!"
"Slytherin," he muttered with a grin.
"Not anymore," Hermione whispered before she could stop herself. His brow furrowed as he stared back at her, his grey eyes lidded.
"I want to go with you, Granger," he said, frowning. "I just don't know how – I don't want to ruin this."
"This will probably end," she whispered, "if you don't."
"We could try," he said, running a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. "We could owl and –" He cut himself off, pressing his lips together. "I know."
"I'd like to think we can try, too," Hermione said, blinking at him several times. She wished she hadn't brought it up. "Ten months is a long time."
He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them he blinked the world back into focus. "I'm not about bravery so much as self-preservation, Granger."
"I can try to be brave enough for us both," she whispered, grasping his face as she pressed her forehead to his. "But… I think you're braver than you realize."
He moistened his lips. "I don't want to – but I do. You know?"
"I know," she breathed. She met his eyes, her own imploring. "I won't ask, but I'd like if you came with me."
He huffed a sigh and wrapped his arms around her. "I want to go with you." He offered her a tight smile. "But!" He paused for effect, pointing at her. "You have to call me Draco."
"I can't," Hermione gasped in horror. "I just… can't," she shook her head mutely.
"Then I'm not coming," he smirked. "And for the love of Merlin, I know I have no right to ask this of you... " He blinked for a moment, staring at her. "If I go back to Hogwarts… I don't know that I could handle it if things between us went back… to how they used to be."
"They won't," Hermione assured him, the ferocity in her tone surprising even her. She took his hand. "Call me crazy, but this feels real."
"You're fucking crazy," he muttered, "but it is."
Hermione stared at him, feeling a breath catch in her throat. In an effort to prevent tears from breaking from her eyes, she took a long sip of her drink.
"I'm glad you're coming back," she whispered.
"I think I've been coming back since you kissed me on that cliff," he said, his grey eyes open and honest.
Hermione's eyes flew wide. "Then I'm not calling you Draco!"
"Yes you are," he chuckled. "We have the whole train ride to debate it. Come on, Finn and Mark are playing some sort of game with red cups and a ball."
"It sounds terrifying," Hermione breathed. She finished her drink and grinned. "Let's go then, Malfoy."
Hermione stirred into awareness, blinking as she vaguely recalled her circumstances.
She was in Whitby. This was her own bed. Her head was throbbing.
Her vision cleared, and comprehension began to dawn. An arm was thrown across her body. Her eyes flew open, and she noted with relief she was clothed in her sleep t-shirt and shorts.
A shaggy head of pale blond hair lay on the pillow beside hers; the extraneous arm belonged to the blond head.
Her legs and feet were tangled with his, but beyond that, they both seemed decent. He stirred with her movement, blinking drowsily at her.
"Water," he gasped. With some effort, Hermione reached over to the bedside carafe and poured him a glass. He choked it down with a murmured, "Thanks."
"Hi," she breathed, and he smiled absently. "I feel atrocious."
"Same," he muttered, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back flush against his chest. "Suppose we ought to just stay in bed, then."
"I don't remember the end of the night," Hermione ventured cautiously.
"We didn't do anything," Malfoy said easily with a grin. "You were a little more incapacitated than would have been… proper. But you did convince me to stay, by refusing to let me walk home."
"Okay," Hermione breathed with a sigh of relief, even as she flushed at his words.
One of his hands was playing across the exposed skin of her stomach and pressed against him as she was, she could feel the hard evidence of his awareness of her. Her next breath caught in her throat, and experimentally, she maneuvered herself closer towards him.
"Granger," he hissed in her ear, one hand lingering on her hip.
"It's not Hermione anymore, then?" she asked, her voice breathy.
"Not right now it isn't," he growled, rolling his hips against her arse.
Gasping as her core clenched in a most delicious way, Hermione reached back, running a hand along the bare skin of his back and chest. Then she groaned, dropping her head to her pillow.
"I might have some hangover draught buried somewhere," she muttered. Malfoy released her and laid back, blinking at her hopefully.
Stumbling out of bed, Hermione found her beaded bag and dug around for several minutes until she let out a breath of relief and drew out two small vials.
"Thank Merlin," Malfoy groaned as he ingested the contents of one of the vials. Hermione drank her own and settled back into bed, facing him.
"So you're coming back to Hogwarts," Hermione said, a demure smile slipping to her face. "I'm glad."
"Right," he sighed. He hitched her closer, drawing her leg up around his hip. "I wasn't going to tell you until tonight."
"What's tonight?" Hermione asked, feeling warm under his intense gaze.
He shrugged. "I'm done work now. I thought I would take you for a nice dinner."
"I'm done, too," Hermione said, chewing her lip. "Friday was my last day."
"Good," he murmured, dropping a kiss to her neck. "Tomorrow we'll have to pack, and Tuesday we'll leave. It's crazy to think the summer is over."
"When do you get your wand back?" Hermione asked, tilting her head back as he continued teasing her neck and collarbone.
"At King's Cross," he breathed against her skin, and Hermione squirmed at the feel of it. "They're going to send a Ministry representative to meet me before the train leaves."
"Are you – excited?" Hermione gasped as he bit down on the skin behind her ear.
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Obviously."
Hermione let out a giggle and caught his lips with her own. Instantly, he pulled her closer, and the heated friction between them loosed a groan from her lips.
"Granger," Malfoy muttered, his fingers playing with the waistband of her shorts, "are you a virgin?"
His hand slipped inside, his fingertips ghosting the skin of her bare thigh.
"No," Hermione choked, her head spinning with awareness of him, her hands grazing across his back as he positioned himself above her. "You?"
"No," he breathed, returning to her neck as his fingers found the lace of her knickers. He smirked as he lightly teased his fingers over the lace at the apex of her thighs, feeling the moisture between her legs. He kissed her on the lips again, gently, as he slipped one finger inside, then another, and Hermione groaned and bucked against his hand.
"Malfoy," she gasped, meeting his gaze.
"I think," he said, carefully removing his hand. He licked her fluids from one finger at a time, a slow smirk spreading across his face. Hermione thought her brain might explode; her heart was beating nearly through her chest. "I might wait for dessert." He flashed his teeth. "If that's alright with you, of course."
"Yes," Hermione said instantly, her breathing quick. She huffed a breath, "That's alright."
A grin broke across his face. "Good."
"I suppose we ought to get up," Hermione said, even as she settled against him again. "I'll need to clean the house."
"Use your wand for once, I won't judge," he murmured with a chuckle. He nuzzled his face into her hair, tugging at her curls. "I like your hair like this." Then as an afterthought, he added, "We don't need to get up just yet."
"Good," Hermione said, allowing her eyes to slip shut again.
