Author's Note: Please take note that this is a missing scene from chapter 9. I didn't want to post it as a one-shot because it easily fits in there. But this would not leave me alone after posting chapter 9, so we'll pretend Draco's thinking back on the week, shall we? Nevermind that only this one chapter has a name…shhh…

Your Heart Is All I Own

"Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time,

But, darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes you're holding mine."

-"Perfect" by Ed Sheeran

Watching Hermione sleep was rapidly becoming one of Draco's favorite pastimes. They took turns spending the night in each other's room each night, and tonight they were in hers. It took everything in him not to reach over and kiss every inch of her skin as she slept, afraid he would wake her. He rested his head against his pillow and tilted his head toward hers, listening to her soft breaths as he thought over the last week:

Unbridled worry settled in Draco's heart whenever he was not sufficiently preoccupied by Hermione. It was, he suspected, the reason she remained so tethered to him over the days after he had been fired from his father's company. As he stared at the ceiling, she leaned over him, her head cradled in her hand. "You're worrying again," she accused, pulling the blankets up slightly over his abdomen.

"I'm not. I swear," he lied, ashamed that she could read him so clearly.

"You're a terrible liar, Draco Malfoy," she told him with a small, distracted laugh. "And you get this ghastly wrinkle, right between your eyebrows, when you fret."

As she said this, she used her first finger to smooth out the crease Draco knew would be right where she claimed. "Everything will be just fine. We're in it together. You sail, I sail, you sink, I sink," she tried to comfort, unsuccessfully.

"You're not helping," he deadpanned, and he closed his eyes as Hermione traced a fingertip over the features of his face.

Married was a strange happenstance in which to find himself, particularly to Hermione Granger. But he had to hand it to the witch-she had a touch that relinquished his worries and calmed his heart. "It's nearly noon, so do you want to wander into town and find some nourishment?" he asked at the feel of her featherlight caresses over his brows.

Hermione brushed over his lips and he kissed them without hesitance before her lips were resting tenderly against his. A slow, purposeful kiss where she cradled his jaw and led his tongue to play along hers. Merlin, he had no idea what he had done for the Fates to pair them, but he was quickly becoming addicted to these moments. Moments she so willingly gave him.

When she pulled back, she gave him a small smile and tapped his chin. "No. I think I'd like to try my hand at poaching an egg. We did so well yesterday with frying them."

Draco laughed-they had gone through nearly a half dozen before they, collectively, managed one perfect sunny-side up egg. "Come on. Pry your lazy bones out of bed," she told him, patting his chest before she climbed over the side.

After sliding her knickers up, Hermione retrieved his button-down shirt from the floor and pulled it over her shoulders. Draco groaned as he stretched his torso long and tossed his blankets aside. After he had pulled on some joggers, she held out her hand for him to take. It was a small measure, once again alerting him to the fact that she was trying to make each moment about them. Since their spat, she had made every effort to build him up, to show him that he was worthy though he felt low, to create a strong foundation for their fresh relationship.

Hermione pulled the basket of eggs out and set to work preparing a pot on the stove. Her eyes glanced out of their kitchen window and she sighed happily. "The flowers are so beautiful. We'll have to clip a bouquet."

Draco snaked his hand around the pot's handle and gave her a gentle nudge out of the way. "I'll do this, and you go and pick a few for the table. This place could use some brightening up," he said ironically, looking around at all of the vibrancy of their home.

Hermione laughed and poked him roughly in the chest. "Don't even think about cheating with magic."

Draco rolled his eyes and turned off the tap. "Wouldn't dream of it."

She left the room as he put the water on the stovetop to boil. Forever impatient, he grew tired of watching the water come to a boil and sped the process along a little. He had no bloody idea how to poach a damn egg and so he cracked it directly into the water, swearing when a drop splashed back on him.

When he went to retrieve a towel from the rack running in front of the sink basin, the sight outside caught his attention. He wiped his arm and tossed the towel over his shoulder leaning forward to watch his wife pick flowers. The sunlight was catching her mass of curls at just the right angle to create a golden halo around the crown. Her skin was golden and glowed in the sun as she stood still for a moment and brought a flower to her nose. Her eyes were closed, and her head turned up toward the rare sunlight, fully basking in the day's delights.

Draco's lips parted as he drank in a sight so resplendent, his heart was pounding somewhere behind his Adam's apple. Barefoot, wearing only knickers and his shirt, she crouched to pluck a black-eyed Susan from alongside the storage shed. She smiled down at it and, as though she could feel his gaze on her, her eyes flickered to the window. Her smile widened as he felt his own lips do the same, and she shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly, holding up the flowers she had to show.

His head gave an involuntary nod and the sound of water splashing out of the pot drew his attention back to the kitchen. He looked over to where his poached eggs had broken and looked more like some kind of mutant algae growing in the water. "Fuck," he swore quietly under his breath.

He quickly set to work with his wand trying to salvage what little he could in an attempt not to look like he had failed as such an easy task. The screen door clattered open and Hermione let out a squeal. "Draco Malfoy! You cheat!" she told him with a laugh.

"I was distracted," he muttered, frowning at the mess inside of the pot.

"Distracted? By?"

Under his breath, far too low for her to hear, he uttered, "An angel."

Her hands were at his back and her forehead, still warm from the outside, was laid against him. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Wine and dine me in town?" he suggested, vanishing his morning's spoils with an impatient wave of his wand.

o-o-o

"You did not!" Hermione shrieked, her face alight with disbelieving glee.

"I did. We were thirteen and my father was furious. 'Upstanding pureblood wizards should not be indulging is such fanciful muggle dalliances'," Draco imitated his father's deep voice to near perfection.

"You were only watching a film!" she argued, tucking her toes under his thigh as she settled her back against the arm of the couch.

"I didn't tell you what kind of film," he said slyly, a smirk blooming across his face.

Hermione put a hand over her eyes, her face turning pink at the mentioning of such naughty things. It was endearing, and Draco found he quite enjoyed the sight of a blush across her cheeks. "You and Theo in a muggle...theater. You were little terrors!"

"My father brought us into muggle London and left us in the reception area to wait for him while he did his business. Did he really think Theo and I would just stay put?" he rolled his eyes, smiling fondly at the memory.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Do you realize how utterly hypocritical it is for your father to close business dealings with muggles with the same breath he uses to say things like 'fanciful muggle dalliances'?"

"Of course I realize. Got quite the corporal punishment when I told him the very same."

Her smile fell, and Draco tapped the smooth expanse of her shin. "Hey, it was a long time ago. It doesn't bother me anymore, so don't let it bother you."

"I just wonder what your life would have been like if you never had such influences. Who you could have been all along," she murmured, raising a glass of wine to her lips.

"I used to wonder the same thing. I'd see you and Potter and Weasley, and you always looked so bloody happy. Laughing together in the Great Hall. Studying together in the library. I was so jealous," Draco told her, feeling vulnerable as he told her of his secrets.

"Crabbe and Goyle seemed…" Hermione's voice trailed off as she searched for a word.

Draco dropped his head to his fist on the back of the couch. "They were lackeys. Muscle. I couldn't be who or what I wanted, so I figured ruling by fear and bullying would make people respect me."

"How'd that work out for you?" she questioned sarcastically, though her tone was not biting.

"I was one of the most miserable individuals you could have had the misfortune to meet. I should think that is fairly evident," he told her truthfully.

"You looked rather smug for the most part...until sixth year," she mentioned, averting her eyes as she cringed at the words that slipped from her mouth, unfiltered the lower the wine bottle got.

"I wanted to die, you know?" he confessed, the words slipping from him like he had drank veritaserum. "When I first took the Mark, I wanted to avenge my father. But by the end, I just wanted to die, I was ready for it."

Hermione was silent for a few moments, letting his words soak over her. "There were so many days I wanted to run. To find my parents in Australia and leave Britain, and horcruxes, and Voldemort behind me."

A confession for a confession, a concept Draco could appreciate. "I think we're better for what we've come through, Draco," Hermione told him, setting her glass on the coffee table.

He finished the liquid in his glass and set it alongside hers, huffing a scoff at her statement. "Perhaps you are. I've been fucked up for a long time."

"But look who you are now," she retorted lightly.

His eyes lifted to meet hers and a corner of his lip tugged into a half-smile. One day you'll see I'm not the enemy. It was a phrase he repeated to her often, in hopes that she would see how true it was in time. The way she was looking at him from the opposite end of the couch, her cheek resting against the couch back and her fingers twisting the hem of her oversized jumper, it was as though she was seeing him for the first time. She held out her hands and dropped her knees. "Why don't you come over here?"

Draco's brow twitched before one raised toward his hairline. Hesitant, he leaned forward and clumsily climbed between her parted legs. Instinctively he knew she wanted to snuggle up, so he rested his head on her chest and wrapped his arms under her torso. One hand rested on his bare shoulder and the other brushed lazily through his hair. He could hear her heart, beating steadily beneath his ear and he closed his eyes to the sound. "I have no idea what I'm doing, Draco. As a wife. Most days, I feel like a failure and a disappointment. I can't even make a solid dinner, for Merlin's sake. Still, I can't say that I'm upset we were matched."

His eyes were still closed during her whispered confession and he slipped his fingers beneath the back of her jumper, seeking just a little more contact. His lips brushed against her collarbone and he nestled closer into her, hoping that, though he was silent, she understood what he could not say. Hermione summoned a blanket from the chest and draped it over them as she adjusted under his weight. A flame flickered in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling settled in him at the feel of her fingers combing through his hair—a warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket enveloping them.

o-o-o

"We really need to plant a few more sprigs of lavender to grow back here," Hermione told him one evening after dinner.

She was crouched over their herb garden, gathering a few items to make a bath soak. They were both barefoot-a concept Draco had once considered common. His sleeves were rolled up and he was enjoying the warm night air as he watched his wife gather rosemary. "We'll pick some up when we go into town tomorrow."

"I've got about a half a jar left of my special mix," she told him, standing and smelling the branch of rosemary.

"What's in it?" he asked, never having bothered her while she was bathing.

"Everlasting rose petals, dried lavender, rosemary, a few whole jasmine flowers...among other things," she replied with a shrug. "Maybe later we can test and see if it works the knots out of your shoulders as well as it does mine."

His witch, his pretty and incredible witch, had done nothing but try to ease his tension for days now. He loved spending time with her, a fact that surprised him to no end. He had never experienced anything like this with anyone else-a closeness that made him want to spill every secret from his heart, lay himself bare for her to collect carefully and mend slowly. Everything had changed after their first night as a married couple and he felt like he was caught in a fast moving whirlpool.

His sudden dependency on her crushed him and his heart ached within his chest at times, soon to be caressed by the next kind gesture on Hermione's part. Draco reached over and laced his fingers with hers, gently guiding them toward the swing that hung from the oak tree in their garden. It was little more than a board pieced between two ropes, but it lit Hermione's eyes right up when he suggested he push her for a few minutes.

She settled her bum on the board and let out a contented sigh as his hands brushed against her back. "You're so easy to please," he commented quietly.

"Are you calling me simple?" she challenged, moving her legs to propel a little farther.

"Not at all. Just compared to the Pureblood witches I've dealt with, you're relatively low maintenance," he clarified.

"I've never given much thought to trivial things, like hair potions or cosmetics."

"And yet, you're more beautiful than any other witch I've ever set eyes on," he replied, his mouth moving before his mind caught up.

Hermione stopped propelling herself forward and leaned back into him, raising her head to look at his face upside down. He felt his cheeks burning when he lifted his hand from her back and tickled his fingers down the column of her throat. "Are you trying to charm me, Malfoy?" she asked, playfully batting her eyelashes at him.

"Is it working?" he teased, stepping around to stand in front of her.

The light of the strung fairy lights she had insisted for the back garden set her features aglow. She was radiant as she smiled up at him. He knew then that his statement was true. Hermione was, without a doubt in his mind, the loveliest woman he had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. It was natural beauty that began within her and illuminated her entire being. His hands went to cup her face. He lightly pulled her and she stood, their lips meeting tenderly.

Draco stepped into her and she stepped back, her fingers pressing into his shoulders, indicating he should lead her toward the house. They made it a few feet before Hermione stumbled and fell back, Draco failing to catch her in his dazed state. He leaned over her as she began to laugh merrily. "Are you alright?"

Her hand shot up and gripped his shirt, pulling him down toward her. He landed just as messily, straddling her hips while she captured his lips with her own. The wind whispered through the blades of grass surrounding them, creating the softest symphony of rustling. It was plush enough that it rose above her arms and cradled her like a plush mattress. It tickled his forearms, but Hermione didn't seem to mind as she coaxed his shirt over his shoulders.

While Draco didn't know if he would ever get used to the simplistic pulchritude of a life with Hermione Granger, he thought he could certainly get used to the tender brushes of her healing touch on his heart.

O-O-O

A/N: Please review. This is my second sappy one for the day, guys. This one dedicated to Trinkisme, who made a gorgeous moodboard for this.