Humming to herself, Hermione gathered her notes and tucked them into her bag. She glanced one more time in the mirror to make sure her hair hadn't escaped the bun and headed out the door. She was meeting Dennis for a breakfast meeting to discuss the photos for the book. The breakfast meeting he suggested was a bit odd, but he had a wedding that evening. She felt a bit of giddiness well up inside her. Meeting face to face with someone about progress on the book made it more real. Before it just felt like her own little project with no one else really involved.
Rita had given up on Harry's interview last week; he'd managed to string her along for nearly a month. Now they were all waiting to see what she'd do about Hermione publishing the history of the war herself. She expected to open the Prophet any day to find some ludicrous story written by Rita in an attempt to discredit her.
She rounded the corner and headed the two blocks down to the coffee shop where she was meeting Dennis. They'd decided to meet at a muggle shop because even though it was a poorly kept secret that she was working on the book, she had yet to confirm it.
She hummed as she went along, enjoying the warm April sun. She had been feeling better about things the last week or so. The loft was put back together and no physical evidence of the intruder left, Crookshanks' paw was fully healed and the hair on his tail was growing in nicely. She still jumped at noises and woke several times during the night wondering if she'd heard something, but it took her less time to fall back to sleep each time. Of course, snuggling up with a man as attractive as Draco was a good way to distract a woman from her worries. There were a couple times, right after the break in, when she couldn't go to sleep and had decided to wake Draco up and use him for a distraction. She smirked to herself in memory, it was quite effective.
She entered the coffee shop and saw Dennis sitting in the corner with a portfolio and a nervous expression. She made his way over to him, smiling, hoping to set him at ease. He was such a nervous, quiet boy.
"Dennis, hi." She greeted him with a smile and sat across from him.
"Hi Hermione!" He chirped with wide eyes. "I'm really excited to work with you on your book! This is going to be brilliant!"
"Thanks, I'm glad you wanted to work with me, your photos from Harry's wedding were stunning." She smiled as he blushed. She cast a silent Muffliato and opened her bag to pull out the lists she had for him. "Shall we get to business?" When he nodded she handed him a sheet of parchment. "This is a list of some of the historical sites I'd like photos of for the chapters on Voldemort's childhood and time at Hogwarts." She handed it to him and waited a moment as his eyes trailed down the parchment. "I think I'd like these to be muggle-style, black and white or sepia. I want them to be really stark, you know?"
"Yeah… they're places that gave rise to a mad man." He said quietly, his eyes a little far away.
"Exactly. But since you've got the more artistic eye of the two of us, why don't you get the shot that I've asked for then do a couple however you like and we'll look at them all later?"
He nodded, still studying the list. "That sounds good."
A waitress came by and they each ordered a coffee and a light breakfast and knocked out the details of his compensation and other aspects of the project. The conversation carried them until they were finished with their food and were sipping the last of their coffee.
"So how are you these days Dennis? I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you when you weren't working." She smiled at him, wondering if he'd been okay since Colin's death.
He cleared his throat, "Oh, you know… getting by." He stared at his coffee and she got the impression he didn't want to talk about any deep subjects.
"I'm glad to hear it. So, what are your plans with the photography? Are you going to keep doing the free-lance stuff like you have been, or do you want to work for someone like the Prophet?" She asked, steering the conversation back to small talk.
"The Prophet's rubbish. I've got no desire to contribute to that. I'm not a paparazzo." He said in good humor. "I'm chuffed with the way things are going. Doing Harry and Ginny's wedding really put me on the map, and them letting me keep the proceeds from selling those two photos has put me in a pretty good spot. I can afford to pick and choose what projects I take on now."
"Good, I'd hate to see you waste your talent on gossip like that." She laughed. "I guess you've heard that Draco and I are getting married… we haven't set a date yet, but you are obviously our choice for photos if you're interested."
"Of course I want to!" He sat up a little straighter. "Let me know when you set a date and I'll be sure my calendar is clear."
"Brilliant, I will!"
The second week of April, about a week and a half after her meeting with Dennis, Hermione was staring at her computer screen with bleary eyes. Draco had chuckled at the muggle equipment until she showed him just how much faster typing was than writing, and how easily it could be edited. She leaned back in her chair and tilted her head to crack her neck. She needed a break. She'd been working feverishly for… she didn't even know how long. She got up and stiffly made her way to the kitchen and rifling through the refrigerator, found the makings of a ham sandwich. She also took a small vial of headache reliever out of the cupboard and downed it. She reminded herself to do better about taking breaks away from the computer to help prevent these headaches.
She took her sandwich to the tiny balcony and balanced the plate on her knees and shielded her eyes from the sun. She had been so caught up in the darkness of Voldemort's youth that she was mildly surprised to find a beautiful spring day outside. She Summoned her sunglasses and put them on with relief. Her stomach growled and reminded her what had made her surface from her writing frenzy in the first place, so she went to work on her sandwich and crisps. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes as she munched and enjoyed the sun on her face. It was nice to take a break from the depressing material she was working on. She sighed thinking of what was next… she'd have to talk to Harry about his parents. Hopefully it wouldn't be too unpleasant. Maybe this weekend…. Wait, what day was it anyways? Thursday? Was it Friday? She laughed at herself a bit; she'd really submerged herself in writing this book.
So far she'd done almost all the writing without having to do any interviews. With everything Harry had told her from his sessions with Dumbledore and what she'd learned in the quiet hours that she and Remus had spent talking in the library at Grimmauld Place, she had quite a start. She would, of course, go back and add anything she learned from future interviews. She had decided to start with a pseudo-biography of Tom Riddle detailing his vicious tendencies throughout his childhood and his misdeeds at Hogwarts that Dumbledore explained to Harry-and as that was the only source, she was pretty much set for these chapters. She'd print the text out and have him read over it to be sure that she hadn't made a mistake or left something out though.
She picked up her now empty plate, headed back inside and deposited it in the sink. Deciding that she should take a break from writing to save her eyesight and her sanity, she walked through the loft to the bedroom with the intent of taking a shower when she noticed she noticed that in her absorption in the book she had been neglecting nearly everything else. The laundry hamper was overflowing, the pile of dirty clothes was now being supported by the wall and the side of the dresser. Even then it was spilling into the floor. The bedclothes needed changing… she looked down at herself and Draco's wrinkled shirt that she was wearing. When was the last time she'd put on clean clothes? Poor Draco, it was amazing how little selfishness was in him where she was concerned; he hadn't complained at all… well, not that she'd noticed anyways. Feeling a bit guilty about her neglect of the loft and her fiancé, she stripped the sheets off the bed and started a load of laundry. It was true that she could clean them with magic, but they smelled and felt so much nicer done the muggle way. She opened all the windows to allow the spring breeze to freshen the air- putting charms on them to keep the car exhaust and other pollution out.
She stripped off her dirty clothes and added them to the monstrous pile awaiting her attention and turned the shower on. She checked out her reflection while she waited for the water to get warm. Her hair was a hot mess… it too was in need of a wash and was piled in a rat's nest on the top of her head. Her legs were in desperate need of a shave. Merlin, how long had she been holed up in that room? This was almost embarrassing.
She spent her afternoon cleaning the flat, some with magic some by hand. She sang along to the music she had blasting to help pass the time. She loved the lyrics to "When I'm 64" by the Beatles. Maybe they'd play this at their wedding; it was such a cute song. Satisfied that the loft was significantly cleaner, she switched the laundry to the dryer and started another load. Draco teased her mercilessly about washing clothes this way, but like the sheets, she preferred them the way they came out of the dryer. She did use magic to fold them. Folding clothes had always been her least favorite chore as a child.
Noting the time, she decided to go to the market and get something to make for dinner. They'd been living off of take away the last week or so; she owed Draco a home cooked meal. She grabbed her bag and headed for the door.
A couple hours later she was in the kitchen when she heard Draco come through the floo. She went to open the bottle of wine she'd gotten to have with dinner, it needed to breathe for a bit.
"Do I smell Italian?" He asked in a hopeful voice.
"Yes you do." She answered and turned to greet him as he entered the kitchen. "I'm sorry I've been neglecting you." She stood on her tip toes to give him a kiss. "Can you forgive me?"
"Depends: what did you make for dinner?" She smiled against his lips as he returned her kiss.
"Lasagna." She wrapped her arms around his neck, realizing that she hadn't spent any time with him in at least a week. It's funny how you can live with someone yet still miss them sometimes.
"Yes, I suppose I'll forgive you." He lifted her off her feet and set her on the kitchen counter and stood between her knees. "I'm glad to see you've surfaced. I was going to forcibly drag you away after another day of that." He smirked at down at her.
"You should've. I was working when I realized that I was starving and had a splitting headache. Then I looked at myself in the mirror and the state the flat was in… I completely abandoned everything but the book!" She laughed at herself a little, but already knew that she'd do it many more times before the book was finished.
"Well that's what you do. I'll give you a four day limit from here on out, yeah?" He asked with a semi-serious tone. "I don't want to see you skin and bones again. Especially for no other reason than you forget to eat."
"I've been eating…" she said in her own defense. It wasn't like she'd sat in there and worked until she nearly died.
"Yes, love. You ate what I sat in front of you. I'm sure you'd have eaten if left to your own devices, but probably only half as often as you should've."
She sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. And I concede to your four day limit. If I'm hunched over the computer for four consecutive days or nights, please throw me into the shower then make me go outside."
"Deal."
She wrapped her arms around loosely around his waist and tipped her head back. "I missed you while I was being all hermity in there. Kiss me." He smiled and cupped her cheek in his hand and leaned down to press his lips to hers. She leaned into him and felt his hands drift up to her hair and he deftly took down her pony tail and trailed his fingers across her scalp and down through the length. She made a small sound of appreciation and felt his hand fist and tug lightly. She gasped lightly as his tongue caressed her lower lip. Going on two and a half years with him and she never got tired of kissing him. She didn't see how she ever would.
Since she was already conveniently situated on the counter she wrapped her legs around his waist and he grabbed her hips and pulled her up against him. Just as she untucked his shirt and felt one of his hands slide up her back the oven timer sounded. They both froze for a second, he let out an irritated groan and she giggled.
"Just ignore it." He said and trailed kisses down her throat.
"I can't, I don't want to burn our dinner." She tried to ignore the feel of his lips, teeth, and tongue on her skin but her pulse was racing. The timer beeped again.
This time he straightened up. "Dammit." He pretended to glare at her. "We'll continue this later, witch."
"I certainly hope so." She winked up at him. "Now move so I can get the lasagna out of the oven." She gave him a gentle shove and he stepped back. "Go change out of your work clothes and dinner will be served when you get back." She smiled sweetly at him and he chuckled and rolled his eyes.
"Very well. It better be brilliant since what I want doesn't seem to be on the menu." He slowly looked her up and down and her cheeks flushed. She supposed she could turn the oven off and leave the lasagna in… it would be alright for a little while… Her thoughts must've been plain on her face because apparently sensing victory, he grinned cheekily, turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen.
She stared at his retreating back for a moment before the timer beeped again and brought her back to her senses. She jumped and spun around to take the lasagna out. He just loooved to mess with her. He gave her that look on purpose so that she'd get in that frame of mind and then he could be the one to walk away on his terms, instead of her shooing him out of the kitchen. Well played, Malfoy, well played. Cause now she was all hot and bothered.
Well, two can play this game. She peeked out of the kitchen and could hear him moving around in the bedroom. She quickly took off her bra and stashed it behind a cushion of the sofa then she grabbed her wand and made her shorts a couple inches shorter and slightly tighter. She giggled quietly as she made her t-shirt a bit tighter and thinner so that there would be no doubt as to what she was- or wasn't- wearing underneath. She put the bread and salad on the table while she waited for the lasagna to cool enough to cut. She was pouring the wine when he came back into the room. He wore black linen pants and a snug black t shirt. She loved that shirt; it was softer than should be possible and made her want to snuggle into his chest and pet him. The soft shirt over his hard muscles… she picked up a glass of wine and stepped closer to hand it to him. Once she passed it off she ran her hand down his chest and stomach.
"I love that shirt." She smiled up at him.
"I know." He smirked. She stood on her toes and gave him a quick peck and went to plate up the lasagna.
"Hungry?" She asked, turning back in time to catch his eyes shoot up to her face. She smiled; she knew exactly where they had been before she turned around.
"Very."
She'd thought that dinner would be rushed with both of them in eager to move on to dessert, but instead they lingered over the wine. They played footsie, made innuendo, held lingering glances, all the cheesy items on a slow-seduction to do list. But coming from a man like Draco, they weren't cheesy at all... they were effective. By the time he sat his empty glass down, stood, and offered his hand in invitation she was ready to push him down on the table and have her way with him. He led her down the hallway into their bedroom... she'd have her way with him there instead.
Hermione woke on Saturday morning with light streaming through the window, her left side was pressed down the length of Draco's back and legs and Crookshanks was curled up inside her right elbow. He opened a yellow eye and made a small happy-cat sound which she took as a good morning. She scratched his ears and he immediately began purring loudly. She was glad his paw had healed and that he'd had no permanent injury. She still got angry when she thought about how he got hurt. She deliberately pushed that thought out of her head. It was a beautiful Saturday; she woke up after a fantastic Friday night snuggled between her loyal pet and her handsome loving husband to be. She grinned to herself….. husband. She was so excited to marry Draco. With everything going on they hadn't talked about when they wanted to get married yet, maybe they'd talk about it today.
She eased Crookshanks away and he stood up stretching then bounding to the floor. She kissed Draco's bare shoulder and frowned slightly when it was cool to the touch. She pulled the covers up around his chin. He stirred a bit and she ran her hand down his arm.
"I love you," she whispered.
"Mhmm too." He mumbled. She smiled to herself and got out of bed thinking that Draco would sleep the clock around if left to his own devices. She decided she wanted to spend a lazy Saturday, starting with a big breakfast. Possibly followed by a nap on the couch in front of the telly. She picked up his clothes that he'd left on the floor the night before and pulled them on. She loved wearing his clothes. She rubbed the fabric of the shirt over her stomach, so soft. Now that it smelled like him she'd rather wear it than anything else.
"Come on, Crookshanks." She said softly to the ginger beast and he padded out after her towards the kitchen. She started a pot of coffee as she got out the makings for a large breakfast.
Draco had been lying in bed for about fifteen minutes listening to Hermione fuss in the kitchen. He smelled bacon sizzling and some kind of potatoes frying. He was getting up in a moment…. He was just so comfortable. He felt the mattress dip and opened his eyes to see a cup of coffee in front of his face. He smirked and sat up, accepting the cup. Not a bad way to wake up: a beautiful witch bringing him a cup of coffee in bed while she cooked his breakfast. He eyed her over the rim of the cup as he took the first sip. She was wearing his clothes and smiling sweetly at him. His shirt was much too large on her, but he liked to see her in it. He set the cup on the night stand, pulled her into his lap, and buried his head sleepily into her shoulder.
"Morning." He said against her neck.
"Good morning yourself." She said and he groaned appreciatively when she ran her fingernails through his hair and over his scalp. After a quiet moment she pulled away. "Come on, love. Breakfast's ready."
"Find me some clothes then, as it seems you've stolen mine." He smirked at her.
They ate until they were stuffed and Draco was helping her with the dishes when the post owl turned up. The helping with the dishes and other chores had been one of the worst growing pains they'd had to overcome. Draco, who'd been raised with an army of house elves and the pureblood elite attitude, had never lifted a finger to do any sort of housework. She didn't oppose his using magic for the chores so long as he helped; he still didn't understand why she did some things by hand and that was okay.
"Done!" He declared as he turned the water off. She laughed as he immediately vacated the kitchen for the couch. She put the last dish back into the cabinet and retrieved the post from the bird.
"Post is here." She called. He grunted to acknowledge she'd spoken but made no other reply. She laughed at him, listening to him flip through the channels. It was amazing how quickly he'd taken to this particular piece of muggle technology.
She looked through the post: a letter from her mum, one from the publisher, a bill for her yearly subscription to Transfiguration Today, and an envelope with no return address. She got her wand and ran a couple of diagnostic spells on it; ever since she'd opened the envelope of undiluted bubotuber pus in fourth year, she took extra care opening envelopes from unknown sources. The spells read that there were no jinxes, no unexpected organic material and no curses.
Satisfied with the safety of the envelope, she opened it to find a birthday card. Odd. It was April: her birthday was in September. The cover of the card read simply: Thinking of you on your birthday in a neat script. She opened it and read the printed message first. Warm wishes on your special day. Then her gaze went to the inside of the cover to read the written message, she felt the hairs on her neck stand up and the skin tingled down her spine.
Hermione,
Today is Lavender Brown's birthday 23rd birthday. How does it feel to know that she is not here to celebrate this day, or any other, because of you? Had you not instigated the Battle of Hogwarts she and many of your other friends, and many of mine, would be here today.
How does it feel knowing that it's your fault?
A/N: Hey y'all, life got a little busy there and I didn't get to write much in the last couple weeks. Hopefully I'll be posting more regularly soon. :) As always, thanks for reading and be sure to tell me what you think!
