Author's Note:
Dearest readers,
Today, this story officially turns one year old (!). So, to all of you reading this, whether you've been reading since that very first day or are just joining now, this chapter is for you.
In other fic news, I posted another new one-shot earlier this week (Never Have I Ever) and will be posting the first chapter of another short story that I'm VERY excited about in the soon future.
Super massive love to LightofEvolution who was my superwoman this week and got this betaed for me in time for today.
Now buckle up. Let's do this.
The broom scarcely wobbled underneath Draco despite the sudden gust of wind. Even though he had purchased it over three weeks ago during his temper-induced shopping spree, this was Draco's first time flying his new racing broom. A Firebolt Turbo, the brand's latest redesign - now with top-of-the-line anti-jinx protections, improved stabilization for a smoother ride, and a maximum speed of 175 miles per hour.
As soon as Draco had mounted the broom, he had felt a pulse of excitement. For the first time in ages, he was going to be playing Quidditch against someone else. Granted, that "someone else" was Potter and a bunch of Weasleys, but at the moment, he didn't have much grounds to complain. In some twisted turn of events, he supposed he should consider himself fortunate to have been invited. Not that he would ever voice that sentiment.
Around him, the rest of Draco's company for the day zoomed around the open expanse of the Weasleys' backyard. The two Weasley boys had been passing the Quaffle back and forth for the past few minutes and Girl Weasley had just flown up to join them in the pre-game exercise. Potter, meanwhile, was zipping across the sky, practising moves and techniques that might prove helpful on his quest for the Snitch.
Draco followed Potter's example. The wind gushed through his hair as he cut through the air towards the ground, executing a perfect spiral dive. His heart soared at the adrenaline of the move but immediately faltered when he pulled out from the plunge.
Below him, standing a mere ten feet away, was Hermione.
Their eyes fell on one another, and Draco had to grip the ash broom handle tighter to make sure he didn't plummet to the ground from the sheer sight of her. She was wearing a casual jumper and Muggle jeans, a stark contrast from last night's formal attire, yet it managed to affect him all the same. He was just happy to see her.
Question was, how happy was she to see him?
He offered the best attempt at a smile he could manage, and to his relief, Hermione didn't pull out her wand and hex him with the first spell she could think of. That said, she didn't look overly thrilled either - more surprised than anything.
Even that look from her stung. He could hardly remember a time in the past few weeks when Hermione hadn't glowed the moment they saw one another. At least, not since they had moved past that misunderstanding at Rosa Lee Teabag.
And now, here he was again. Having mucked up so poorly that he had to explain himself to Hermione before everything they had built between them crumbled beyond repair. But just like last time, he would do whatever it took to rectify his errors. Sleep on her office's stoop, spend the afternoon with Potter and a clan of Weasleys, slay a Hungarian Horntail. She name it, he'd do it.
Potter must have noticed Hermione's arrival as well, for he soon landed next to her, breaking Hermione's focus on Draco. That didn't stop Draco from continuing to look at her, the impending Quidditch match now far from his top priority.
"You're staring."
To Draco's chagrin, his least favourite Weasley was now hovering beside him. "And that affects you how?" It was the nicest retort he could manage. Older Weasley and Girl Weasley he could handle, which was good considering they were the ones on his team. But this Weasley was another thing entirely.
Weasley glanced down at Hermione and then back at Draco. His expression turned stern. 'Just know that if you hurt her, you'll have a lot of people to answer to."
Fucking Merlin. First Potter and now Weasley? Did he miss a Daily Prophet article announcing his feelings towards Hermione? Or was it that bloody obvious?
Still, Draco wouldn't let Weasley see him waiver. There was only so much he could manage in a single afternoon, and being at the Weasleys' home was testing him enough.
"As you and I both know, Hermione would have no problem defending herself, so don't consider your threat necessary," Draco said instead. "But even in the worst case, what do you plan to do to me, Weasley? Attempt to hex me with more slugs?" He tauntingly grinned. "I recall that going so well the last time."
Weasley's cheeks turned vibrant red. "That wasn't my fault!" he defended. "My wand was broken!"
Older Weasley called for Weasley to come back and toss the Quaffle some more, granting Draco the return of his solitude. His attention immediately returned to the witch below. Within a matter of moments, she once more looked up at him, his heart lifting even higher when he noticed the broomstick in her hand. She had agreed to play.
Potter left her side to join everyone else, while Hermione remained safely on the ground, her eyes transfixed on Draco.
An anxious stir swirled in his gut. Should he go down and talk with her? Did she want him to go down and talk with her? He wasn't sure. But one thing was clear - he ought to do something other than continuing to hover over her without saying anything.
Yet Draco still didn't move, his limbs unable to find the willpower to direct himself elsewhere. So instead he stayed, softly snorting at each of Hermione's failed attempts until she successfully kicked off the grass and flew up towards Draco.
"Hi," she said, sweeping away a few loose hairs she must have missed when putting her hair into a ponytail.
Mild relief filled Draco at the sound of her voice. "Hi."
"So," she began. She glanced over at the Weasleys and Potter who suddenly stopped their conversation and resumed throwing the Quaffle. "Draco Malfoy is playing Quidditch at the Burrow. That's a sight I thought I'd never see."
She cracked a small, teasing smile, and the apprehensions in Draco's chest faded nearly entirely.
Hermione was mocking him. As if it was a normal day between them.
They still needed to talk, but right now, he'd take it.
Draco returned the smile. "Now that I've finished your Lord of the Rings series, I had nothing better to do." He quirked an eyebrow while Hermione lightly chuckled at his remark. "But since we're on the topic of surprises, what a shock to see Hermione Granger out of her office on a weekend."
The broom below Hermione teetered as she shrugged. "Harry made me promise not to go in today. Said I needed a day off after last night."
Just like that, the pang in his heart returned.
"Look, Hermione, I can explain…"
But apparently, the universe was not done with its cruel streak of interrupting his time with her, for at that precise moment, Girl Weasley called for their attention.
"C'mon, you two! We got a game to play!"
Draco's grip tightened around his handle as Hermione gave him a semi-sympathetic look.
"We'll talk later, Draco."
This was later. She had already told him that last night!
But Potter had advised Draco to be patient. To not push the conversation if Hermione didn't seem receptive. The last thing Draco needed was for her to give him the silent treatment, which apparently Potter had been on the receiving end of multiple times throughout their years at Hogwarts.
Crisp fall air filled his lungs as Draco drew in a deep breath. Fine. He could wait until after the game. Besides, it would feel good to finally snatch the Snitch before Potter.
"Alright, listen up!" Girl Weasley said once Draco had joined them in the circle they had formed in the centre of the makeshift Quidditch pitch. "We're playing three on three today. Harry, Ron, and Hermione on one team. Me, George, and Malfoy on the other. Boundaries are designated by the enchanted line on the field. Bludgers will be in play, but there are no Beaters to direct them, so be on the lookout for those. Harry and Malfoy are obviously Seekers, and the rest of us can switch between the roles of Chaser and Keeper as we see fit. Time outs are only permitted after a half-hour of play, and for the love of Merlin, will everyone keep it civil?"
Girl Weasley lifted an eyebrow at the younger of her two brothers, and Weasley pretended as if he hadn't heard anything. She knocked her broom into him, prompting him to grumble his understanding.
"Good," she settled. "Then, if there are no objections, let's play."
With a simple flourish of her wand, Girl Weasley released the set of balls from the crate rested directly below. The Bludgers were the first to soar into the air, nearly knocking Draco off his broomstick before he even had a chance to register that the game had begun. The temporarily charmed Quaffle leapt upward, and Older Weasley grabbed ahold of it, his brother zooming after him. Within seconds, everyone was scattered across the field.
Draco knew his focus ought to be on locating the Snitch, but his attention was pulled elsewhere. In all their years at Hogwarts, he had never seen Hermione play Quidditch. He recalled a few lessons during their first year in which he had seen her fly, but there was something different about seeing her play his favourite game.
She wasn't terribly good - not that he expected her to be when compared to everyone else who had played for their house's team - but she wasn't terrible either. She and Weasley made a decent duo, a notion that felt wrong to even think. But it was the truth. Ten years of friendship between them had to have some benefits.
Weasley would pass the Quaffle to her, Hermione would fly it towards the goal posts before tossing it back to him, and then Weasley would secure the points. When it came to defence, Weasley would zoom to act as Keeper while Hermione attempted to block Girl Weasley and Older Weasley's paths. She completed each play with relative ease, all the while a smile broad across her cheeks, even if she did sometimes struggle to keep hold of her broom.
Then something glimmering appeared in the far corner of Draco's eye. On the far opposite side of the field, down near the bushes, fluttered the Golden Snitch.
Almost directly across from him was Potter. They barely registered eye contact with one another before they both leaned over and darted towards the Snitch.
Bursts of wind surrounded Draco as his Firebolt Turbo raced against Potter's outdated model. For several moments, they went back and forth on who was edging farther ahead until a Bludger crossed directly in front of them. They both jerked their brooms away from the danger, but while Potter took a few extra seconds to redirect himself, Draco was able to recover much more quickly. Guided by his new broom and a boost of exhilaration, Draco tested the limits of his Firebolt Turbo and sped ahead, widening the gap between him and his opponent.
He clenched one hand around the broom handle as he outstretched the other, the Snitch only feet away. All those days in which he had been alone in the Manor, passing the seemingly endless time by practising catching the Snitch, were nothing compared to this. The stir of anticipation. The thrill of competition. The expectation of victory. He was so close, he could nearly feel the fluttering wings fighting for freedom against his clasped grip.
And then, he seized it.
Draco soared around the field, the Snitch raised high in his hand as Girl Weasley and Older Weasley flew alongside him, joining in the celebration of his catch. Weasley had his arms folded across his chest, displeased by the results, but Draco hardly revelled in the wizard's dismay. All he cared about was the sight of Hermione fighting the smile from spreading too much across her lips.
"Congratulations," Potter said once they had all landed on the ground. He held out his hand for Draco to shake. "Although, I do demand a rematch."
Draco grinned as their hands met in a firm hold. "You're on, Potter."
...
The second match took significantly longer than the first. Several times, Draco and Potter chased one another as the Snitch fluttered in the near distance, only for it to disappear before either one caught it. But Draco didn't mind. Each time the Snitch escaped his clutch, it gave him an excuse to soar higher above the field and "search" for it again, when in reality, he paused and took a moment to focus his attention elsewhere.
The longer they played, the more comfortable Hermione seemed on a broom. She was keeping longer hold of the Quaffle and even made a few goals of her own. Playing Quidditch again was exhilarating, but it was nothing compared to the surge of insurmountable happiness that pulsed through Draco after her first goal. Hermione had immediately looked up to catch his gaze. Her smile radiated as Draco clapped to her success, even if it did mean ten points for the other team.
Play continued, and Draco became so immersed in the game, he hadn't registered that the sun had nearly faded from sight by the time Potter managed to steal the Snitch and secure his team's victory.
Everyone's feet had barely landed on the grass when the Weasley matriarch came out from within the home.
"About time your game ended!" she called from the doorframe. "A heating charm can only keep dinner warm for so long. Now, if your last name is Weasley, I expect you to come inside this instant and help with the final preparations!"
"But we don't live here anymore," Weasley cried as he returned the Quaffle to the box.
His mother gave him a sharp glare. "I fed you and made sure you were clothed for seventeen years, Ronald Weasley!" Mrs Weasley berated her son. "When you are here, you are not a guest." Weasley began to open his mouth, but she cut him off. "No arguing."
Weasley grumbled to himself as he sulked inside, while Older Weasley fought with one of the Bludgers so he could secure its locks, and Girl Weasley chatted with Hermione as they walked towards the door together.
Forgetting everything else around him as his eyes watched the gentle bouncing of Hermione's hair as she walked away, Draco was taken by surprise when he felt a firm clap of a hand against his back.
"That's one each," Potter said. "Guess you'll have to come back some other time so we can determine which one of us is actually better nowadays."
Hermione glanced over her shoulder and offered Draco a small smile before she stepped inside.
"If there is a next time," Draco said, keeping his voice low. "Still need to see how things resolve with Hermione first."
Potter followed Draco's gaze and shrugged. "She's a processor. She may still need time. But I think the afternoon went as well as we could have hoped."
Draco drew in a breath. While true, his day at the Weasleys' was coming to an end, and he and Hermione still hadn't spoken much more than the few words they had exchanged prior to the first game.
All her smiles had to count for something, though. He only hoped she wasn't planning on taking a step back with her feelings towards him. She liked him. He felt it in the very depths of his magical core. But if all this thinking left her wanting to keep things platonic, Draco wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it.
Waiting a few more minutes before he departed, Draco followed Potter into the Weasleys' home, which the other wizard had previously informed him was referred to as "The Burrow." He had so far managed to withhold any questions as to why any family would voluntarily compare their home to that of a small animal, but despite the moniker, it was admittedly rather… welcoming.
The dwelling was small and seemed to threaten to collapse from the resulting movement of a hard enough sneeze, yet there was a general comfort to it that he had never experienced at the Manor. Everything about it was lively. Each of the red-haired Weasleys was bustling around the kitchen, dishes and silverware floating through the air as they set the table. Commotion filled the space as they spoke over one another, Mrs Weasley directing her children this way and that, but even when she raised her voice to tell Older Weasley to stop folding the napkins into Hippogriffs, her underlying care was still apparent.
Draco overheard Hermione asking how she could help, but Mrs Weasley insisted it wasn't necessary. Seeing an opportunity for him and Hermione to have a few final moments to speak before he left them all to their dinner, Draco approached her side.
"You played well today," he said, leaning up against the counter to appear more casual than he actually felt. "In fact, I think you might have fared better than Weasley fifth year."
He grinned at Hermione's resulting snort.
"Going to make a song for me, too?" she taunted.
Draco's heart lifted at the playful glint in her eyes. "Only if you ask nicely."
She peered down at her shoes, a genuine smile stretched across her lips, and Draco felt a sudden urge to pull her out of that kitchen and have her all to himself. He just wanted to talk with her. Explain everything so there were no more doubts in her mind. Because Draco wanted this. He wanted her. And every minute longer that he had to wait, the surer he was becoming.
Temporary silence fell between them as Hermione lifted her gaze, her eyes once more meeting his.
"I'm glad I got to see you today," Draco eventually said.
"Me too," Hermione returned after a slow intake of breath. "Especially after the way we left things last night…"
Her gaze softened, but it did little to obscure her lingering concerns.
Without thinking twice, Draco took her hands into his, not caring if anyone around them saw. He needed her to understand. To truly feel how much he meant this.
"Hermione, I-"
"Dinner's served!"
With the sound of her call for everyone to join around the table, Mrs Weasley quickly became his least favourite Weasley.
Hermione dropped their connection. "Later, Draco."
Fucking when later?
But one thing was now painfully obvious: the conversation wouldn't be happening that night.
Hermione pulled back the chair at the end of the table next to Potter as the rest of them took their seats. Draco was about to wish them all the good night when he noticed something unexpected.
There was a place setting left unclaimed.
He searched around the table, certain someone else must not have taken their seat yet, but Mrs Weasley along with everyone who had played Quidditch today was already there. Mr Weasley wasn't accounted for, but come to think of it, Draco hadn't seen him all day.
Potter raised an expectant eyebrow. "Are you waiting for a formal invitation?"
Draco blinked. Certainly, they didn't intend for him to stay for dinner. Potter had invited him for Quidditch. That was it.
But apparently, Quidditch at the Weasleys was more than just an afternoon affair.
Mrs Weasley motioned her arms for Draco to join them. "Sit, sit. Food's getting cold. Everyone serve yourself."
A swarm of hands reached for the variety of dishes scattered across the table. A freshly roasted chicken. Fluffy, whipped mashed potatoes. Still steaming steak and kidney pie. A vast variety of vegetables. It was a feast to rival Hogwarts.
Mrs Weasley handed a bowl to Older Weasley before pausing her serving to address Draco who still hadn't moved. "You didn't expect me to send you home without a proper meal, did you?"
Warily, Draco took the one empty seat - the one next to Weasley… and directly across from Hermione.
"I didn't expect you to be so… welcoming of me," Draco cautioned.
"Don't be silly," Mrs Weasley dismissed. "I've read your memoir, dear. You were a child. You all were. It wasn't fair to have so much put on you." She reached across the table to grab the basket of bread. "And after what your mother did for Harry, I can only show you the same care. It takes a significant amount of a mother's love to risk something like that for her son."
Draco tensed at the mention of his mother. Across from him, Hermione seemed to have noticed.
"But I must say, I was quite impressed by your book," Mrs Weasley continued, fortunately, not letting the conversation dwell on that topic. "Do you have plans for a second?"
Draco purposefully avoided looking in Hermione's direction as he served himself part of the roasted chicken. "Not currently," he replied. He could still feel Hermione's gaze directed on him, the witch fully aware that this was just as sensitive of a subject. "I'm letting the success of the first book settle before deciding what course to take next."
"Where's Arthur tonight?" Hermione interjected before Mrs Weasley had a chance to say anything else on the matter. "Did the Ministry need him for something?"
Much to Draco's relief, the conversation diverted away from anything pertaining to him, Mrs Weasley now detailing the Muggle plumbing convention in Bournemouth that her husband was spending his weekend attending. Draco mouthed Hermione a silent "Thank you" before she offered him a closed-lipped smile and they both returned to their meals.
Throughout the rest of the dinner, Draco mostly kept to himself, simply listening to the conversations surrounding him. It stunned him how different the atmosphere was compared to what he had grown up with. They laughed. They exchanged stories about their weeks. They were genuinely happy to be there.
This was a family.
Draco then remembered that it was a Saturday evening, meaning that he was presently skipping a formal meal at the Manor. Right now, his parents were dressed in fine robes, seated on the far extremes of their long dining room table, undoubtedly infuriated that Draco wasn't there.
But he didn't need to concern himself with that now. His parents would have to wait. Matters with Hermione came first.
When the meal came to a close, Draco had hoped to pull Hermione aside and finally talk with her, but he couldn't get her alone the rest of the night. First she helped Molly clean the dishes. Then she played a few rounds of Exploding Snap with Older Weasley and Girl Weasley. After that, they had all come back together in the sitting room and simply chatted.
Draco wasn't sure how much longer he could maintain small talk with Hermione and company when his mind was stuck elsewhere. All day he had waited for them to talk. Was it "later" yet?
Eventually, Draco surrendered to the fact that maybe she still wasn't ready to talk with him despite her being the one to bring it up before dinner. Maybe mentioning it had been all she had intended to do.
Soon enough, it neared time for them to go to bed. The rest of them had already planned on spending the night at the Burrow, so when Mrs Weasley extended the offer to Draco as well, he figured why the hell not. He didn't exactly want to return to the Manor. And perhaps he'd have better luck in the morning once Hermione had had another night's rest to process it.
That said, Draco doubted he'd be getting much sleep.
...
Hermione buttoned up her flannel pyjamas as Ginny reentered her bedroom, her teeth already brushed. She was just about to ask if Ginny was ready to turn off the lights and go to sleep when Ginny turned to her expectantly.
"So, are we going to talk about it or…?" She lifted an eyebrow, already anticipating Hermione's response.
Of course going to bed wouldn't be that simple.
"How much did Harry really tell you?" Hermione asked after a resigned sigh.
"Enough." The mattress sank as Ginny sat on the corner of the bed. "But I'd rather hear what you have to say about it. Last you told me, you and Malfoy had just become friends."
Hermione crashed down on the bed, letting her hair splay out across the comforter. "We are friends."
"But is that all you want?"
Hermione stared up at the rafters in Ginny's bedroom ceiling as she considered the question. What she really wanted right now was to stay upset at him. He had kept something major from her, be them friends or… otherwise. But his presence at the Burrow had muddled her emotions. She had tried to interact with him like she would normally, pretend as if he was just another friend joining her for a relaxing day at the Burrow like Harry had promised, but it was hard. She couldn't forget what Theo had told her the night before - and the ache that had weighed on her heart ever since.
Darkness fell over her vision as Hermione closed her eyes. She knew the answer to the question. It was the reason every interaction with Draco today had still made her smile even when they had so much to discuss.
"No," Hermione eventually said, unable to look at Ginny as she confessed what she hadn't yet confirmed to anyone else. "That's not all I want."
"Then what are you waiting for?" Ginny asked in return. Hermione reopened her eyes to see Ginny canting her head in her friend's direction. "He didn't spend all day here because he and Ron are suddenly best mates."
Ginny nudged Hermione's side with her elbow, warranting the smallest snicker to escape Hermione. "I know," she said. "But matters between us are much more complicated than I imagined they would be."
"Then uncomplicate them," Ginny said as if it was that simple of a solution. "You're Hermione Granger. Find a way to fix it."
...
Hermione tried to sleep after that, but she couldn't. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw a montage of different scenes. Draco soaring at the victory of his catch. Draco grabbing her hands in the kitchen. Draco faltering when she left him alone in the library.
Careful not to disturb Ginny from her slumber, Hermione pulled back the covers of the Engorgio-ed bed they were sharing and closed the door behind her as quietly as possible. The stairs creaked under the weight of her feet in the early hours of the morning. All she intended to do was get a glass of water from the kitchen and return to bed in hopes for better results, but her plan changed when she caught a glimpse outside.
Out in the backyard, under the twilight stars, was Draco, flying on his broom while the Snitch shone under the basking glow of moonlight.
Hermione made sure to gently close the backdoor as she stepped outside, silently watching Draco. Clearly, she wasn't the only one who was having trouble falling asleep. He whizzed through the air like he had all afternoon, only now, Hermione could properly admire it. Back at school, she had always been so fixated on Harry during Gryffindor versus Slytherin matches that she had never taken much time to observe him. But Draco was a fine flyer. He had bragged about that since their first day at Hogwarts. Yet there was something even more remarkable about it as he zoomed after the Snitch, his blonde hair more vibrant than usual from the shine of the moon.
It was only after Draco caught the Snitch that he noticed her.
"How long have you been here?" he asked when he landed on the ground beside her.
"A few minutes."
Draco considered her response, but soon a grin stretched across his lips. "Glad to see your horrendous pink pyjamas are back."
She glanced down at the matching flannel set, the cartoon "molar bears" adorning the print he had seen her in last Friday. "They're what pyjamas I own," she defended, giving Draco a subtle shove for good measure.
Draco chuckled. "Doesn't make them any less ridiculous."
Their taunting faded into the darkness of the night, and they were left staring at one another. The moment seemed to stretch on for hours, though it couldn't have been more than a few passing seconds. A soft breeze washed over them, causing a stray curl to fall over her cheek. Draco reached out to brush it away, but before he could, Hermione tucked it behind her ear herself.
Draco broke the contact and she already missed the coolness of his grey gaze. He stepped a few paces away and returned the Snitch to its home with the rest of the Quidditch balls.
"So," he said as he slowly stepped back towards her. "Is it finally later?"
Hermione swallowed before nodding. There was no use delaying the conversation. Now that they were properly alone, she needed to hear his side.
She peered out into the dark distance of the night before returning her gaze to Draco. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Draco settled onto the grass, and Hermione joined him, their fingertips no more than an inch away as they kept themselves propped upright.
"It's something I've been trying to navigate on my own," Draco said, staring out in front of them. His chest rose as he drew in a long breath. "I didn't know how… involved you should be until I had a clearer sense of where I wanted any of this to go."
Hermione's mouth grew dry as she processed his words. "You don't need to do this alone, Draco."
"I know that," he returned. "Which is partly why I recently reconnected with Theo and Blaise. I realised I needed them."
"I'm glad you did," she said, even though that wasn't entirely the response she had hoped for. But then, a more pertinent question crossed her mind. A pit formed in her stomach, fearing she already knew the response. "Do your parents know that we're friends?"
Draco hung his head as he shook it. "No."
Hermione clamped her eyes shut. The answer stung more than she had anticipated.
She turned her back to him as she pushed herself off the ground, but Draco quickly got to his feet.
"I wanted to tell them last night," he rushed to clarify, a general panic in his tone. "It's the only reason I agreed to the soiree in the first place. All night, I was waiting for the opportunity to introduce you to them."
Hermione fought the tears that were beginning to gloss over her eyes. She forced a sneer as she glared at Draco from over her shoulder. "But instead you let your father parade you around to prospective pureblood partners."
The colour drained from Draco's face. His eyes turned pleading. "It's not that easy."
"And why not?" Hermione demanded, now fully turned to once more face him. "If it's not what you want, then why don't you tell them?"
"Just tell them?" Draco stared up at the sky as he shook his head in disbelief. "You should know by now that it's not that simple for me! My parents have expectations."
"But what do you want?" Her commanding voice rang clear in the otherwise silent night. "Your writing career. Your future partner. Merlin, even your friends. You have the right to make those decisions for yourself!" She shook her head as she glared at him with a pointed stare. "And I won't be your dirty Mudblood secret."
Draco's jaw fell slack. "You're not," he stammered. "Hermione, I would never-"
He stepped towards her, but Hermione took a step back.
"I'm up against generations of Malfoy family tradition," Draco argued, begging for Hermione to still listen. "I don't have to explain to you what happens to someone who dares defy them." He paused to recompose himself. "I understand your frustration, and trust me, I feel it myself. Every bloody day. But there's a lot that I'm trying to navigate here. Your parents are important to you, as mine are to me."
"But at what point will it become too much?" she challenged. "Is it worth losing a part of yourself just to satisfy them?" Hermione swiped away a tear that had beaten her resolve. She closed her eyes as another harsh swallowed bobbed down her throat. "Look, Draco," she said, straining to keep her voice as even as possible. "I just want you to do what you think will make you happy. After everything we went through during our childhoods, don't you think that's what we all deserve?"
Draco grabbed her hands and took them into his. "Being with you makes me happy."
Hermione's heart leapt. She stared down at their connection, wanting so hard to give in. But she couldn't. Not until she had no more doubts.
"This problem with your parents isn't going to go away," she said, searching his face for any sign of what he was thinking. "And as much as I want something to happen between you and me, you can't make this decision based on us." She worked through the lump in her throat as she pushed herself to finish. "If you think you'll solve everything by submitting to your parents' wishes and foregoing what you really want, then fine. Be my guest. But don't expect me to support it. You and I will just have to forget anything that could have happened between us and continue on as we have, remaining friends, and-"
The rest of the speech fell short as Draco crashed his lips onto hers, effectively forcing her silent. One hand was now wrapped firmly around the small of her back while the other was on her neck, just under her hair, locking her in place.
The sudden sensation took Hermione by surprise, her mind taking several seconds to process what was happening, but it slowly began to catch on. Draco's lips. Against hers. Capturing them with a firm, unrelenting kiss.
A small voice in the back of her mind urged her to pull away. They hadn't yet come to a resolution to their conversation. But the longer he kept his lips pressed to hers, the less that seemed to matter. His lips were warm, like a hot butterbeer on a cold winter day. And they were soft - softer than she had expected - but hard in their intent.
Slowly, all of her misgivings faded away, and before long, Hermione was lost in the kiss. She draped both arms around his shoulders and deepened their connection, taking in the smoothness of his lips as they brushed against hers again and again. Nothing else mattered. Not his parents. Nor the marriage contract they wanted him to sign. Just the wizard himself, currently wrapped in her embrace.
She leaned into his chest, needing him ever closer. Her fingers swept up his neck and settled themselves in his hair. The gentle hum of Draco's approval rippled over their kiss as he clenched his hold around her waist tighter.
The tip of his tongue swept across the seam of her lips, and she willfully parted them. She met his tongue with her own, sending a jolt to her heart and a rush of euphoria through the rest of her system. This. This is what she wanted. Draco. With his arms wrapped around her body and her every sensation ignited by his kiss. Whatever he needed to work out with his parents, they would resolve together.
When they eventually pulled away, Draco rested his head on her forehead, his shallow breaths ghosting over her skin.
"I've made my choice," he said in a low, husky voice. His lips then curled into a mischievous grin. "And don't ever refer to me as just your friend again."