Draco recognised the determination in her features seconds before she landed in his lap. Her arms snaked around his torso and she buried her face into his neck.
"Don't leave like that again," Hermione said in a muffled voice, "Or if you have to, come back right after."
"I didn't mean to put you in a trance," Draco apologized, "I was scared when I couldn't make it stop."
The apology was hard for him to say; years of training never to offer such a display of weakness finally submitted to the Veela instincts to make amends with his mate.
"What were you thinking when it happened?"
"I was asking you the same question before something in my head felt weird. I wanted to figure out why you were scared of flying and help you overcome it."
Hermione leaned back to stare up at him, "You know, I felt like you were trying to take away that reluctance. There was a moment when I could have shrugged it off but I decided to see if you could help."
"I don't understand."
"Don't you see?" Hermione was clearly excited, "I gave you an odd sort of permission to interfere with my fear of flying and you did. I got on the broom without a worry!"
"Then turned into a zombie," Draco reminded her.
"I bet with practise you'd be able to take away the fear of flying and leave the rest of my mind unaffected," Hermione decided.
Draco refrained from pointing out how ridiculously naïve she could be. He was distracted by the way she was looking at his mouth. He didn't have to be a genius to know she was considering kissing him. He leaned forward in anticipation.
Hermione ran her fingertip along his cheekbone and pressed her lips against his. She ran the tip of her tongue along his lower lip and heard him groan into her mouth.
Draco had kissed more girls that he could recall. He had experienced expert kisses, timid kisses, sloppy kisses and drunk kisses. The gentle yet confident way Hermione peppered his mouth with small kisses was oddly enjoyable. The tip of her tongue touched his before retreating again.
At first Hermione thought she was imagining the buzz she could feel coming from him. As it grew stronger she leaned back to smile at him in wonder.
"You're purring," she whispered.
The flash of light from the doorway to the kitchen ruined the sweet moment. Ginny stood there pointing a camera at them.
"You have shit timing Weaslette," Draco hissed.
"I have perfect timing," Ginny argued, "And a gorgeous picture of you two. Quit complaining or I won't give you a copy."
"You have my permission to buy her some sort of embarrassing leather outfit and present it to her in front of the whole family," Hermione whispered.
Ginny frowned at the evil smirk which appeared on Malfoy's face rather abruptly.
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After returning to the Burrow Draco observed the rising tension with interest and a healthy dose of caution. Weasley grunted a half-arsed apology for flying off the handle and Draco accepted politely. Keeping his mate happy was easily more important than annoying the redhead.
He was impatient to speak to Hermione alone; to finally ask why she has reacted emotionally to the idle suggestion of sending Pig on a long journey to tire him out. She could hide her feelings from the dim-witted duo but not from him.
Each night Hermione and Ginny would disappear in the late afternoon. Sometimes they would be hidden in their room and protected by various spells to deter eavesdropper. At other times they would disappear outside under the guise of going for a walk.
Draco waited until they returned just before dusk. Weaslette grinned at him but that wasn't a surprise; she had been wearing a shit-eating grin ever since she had spent the afternoon in Grimmauld Place.
"She needs a good snog," Weaslette laughed as she headed into the house, "Get to work Ferret!"
Draco chose to ignore the comment which left Hermione blushing.
"If she doesn't watch out I'm going to find a way to make her burst into song whenever she gets frisky," Hermione muttered.
"Two birds, one stone," Draco agreed, "Potter has been wearing the stupidest grin and staring at the wall like it's speaking to him. I hope someone throws a bucket of cold water over both of them."
Hermione giggled at the image he described while he watched her with a frown. He was worried about something.
Draco led her over to one of the dilapidated chairs which the Weasley family kept scattered around the yard. Water-repelling charms kept them dry but the original colours had long since faded.
"You get a weird crease between your eyebrows when you're stressed," Hermione pointed out as she ran her finger along the bridge of his nose.
"It only appeared after you found out about my Veela heritage," Draco sighed, "You're giving me wrinkles."
Hermione made a dismissive noise, "As if. Are you saying I'm scarier than Voldemort?"
Draco pulled her into a hug, "He could have tortured and killed me. You could rip my heart out and make me wish for death."
He wasn't as agonised as he seemed, and she knew it.
"Are you always this dramatic?"
He smirked and reminded her vividly of their time at Hogwarts. The coldness she had always seen in his eyes had been replaced by a mischievous glint.
"I've been spending too much time around Potter and Weasley," Draco decided.
"Get used to it," Hermione replied with a smile, "If you plan on courting me, they're going to be keeping a close eye on you."
"Can I kidnap you and flee to some tropical island where they'll never find us?" Draco asked hopefully.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
"Or Australia?"
The stab of pain which lanced through her torso made them both wince.
"Why does that pain you?"
"Manipulative bastard!" Hermione hissed. She shoved him away and lurched to her feet.
"Slytherin," Draco replied with a shrug.
"Why couldn't you just ask outright?" Hermione hissed.
"You hid the pain remarkably well earlier today," Draco recalled, "If you won't open up to friends you have trusted implicitly for years I doubted you would be ready to share with me."
"You have no right to push this," Hermione scolded, "I will speak about it when I'm good and ready."
"I can't allow that," Draco replied simply.
The fury which welled within her was preferable to the pain.
"You 'can't allow that'?" Hermione repeated in a dangerous tone, "What am I, your pet dog?"
"You're my mate," he clarified, "And you're in pain. I can't let you suffer."
"So you're going to help by pissing me off?" Hermione demanded.
On reflection, his plan was stupid.
"At least when you're yelling at me I know how to react!" Draco cried.
He watched her shoulders slump and her lip trembled. He was horrified to realize she was about to cry.
"Yell at me," Draco pleaded.
Hermione felt the tears spill over onto her cheeks, "After Dumbledore died, I knew I had to protect my parents. I obliviated them. They are living in Australia somewhere, completely unaware that they even have a daughter."
The full impact of her words was compounded by the way her voice shook. Somehow she didn't choke up part-way through the explanation.
"Can their memories be restored?" Draco asked worriedly.
Hermione climbed back into his lap and buried her face in his shoulder, "I spoke to an Auror about it. There is an eighty percent chance the counter-charm would cause them brain damage. I couldn't take that risk."
Draco tried to imagine his own parents unable to recall who he was. He wasn't bothered by the idea of Lucius failing to recognise him; his mother was a different matter.
"I don't even know if I saved them," Hermione added with a sniff, "There was never any evidence of Death Eaters at my house. Maybe I should have just left them alone."
Sometimes Draco wished he could be obliviated so all the horrid memories could just disappear. For once he was grateful he had seen so much ugliness.
"Lucius was ordered to hunt down your parents," Draco revealed softly, "The Dark Bastard made it very clear that I was to kill them."
Hermione stared up at him with wide eyes. Her hands were clutching his biceps too tightly for comfort.
"He thought it was amusing I guess," Draco continued, "So when you were presented to me after the war he could casually mention that I had killed your parents to ruin any potential relationship."
"Stockholm Syndrome does not constitute a relationship," Hermione muttered.
"The house was empty and clearly had not been occupied for months," he revealed, "We were tortured for a while when we returned with the bad news but there was no way to track your parents. You saved their lives Hermione."
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Hermione observed Ginny and Harry sharing shy glances during dinner. She was sure that Ginny had her hand on his thigh under the table.
Ron was concentrating very hard on his food. If he looked over at his best friend and sister, he would be in danger of saying something he would regret.
Hermione was worried about Ron. After the Battle of Hogwarts, he had become increasingly moody. Consecutive days of forced cheer would suddenly give way to a bout of depression and drinking. She recognised some of the signs of his struggle as they ate.
The Sunday lunch gathering of the family had been a trigger in the past. Looking around at his brothers reminded Ron that Fred was gone and George would never be complete again.
Hermione had been as supportive as she could as his girlfriend yet was always sure she would never be enough to help him heal. Since they were no longer dating she wondered if he would still want her company when the depression took hold.
When Molly sat down to eat with the rest of the family her gaze fell on her daughter for the first time since lunch. Hermione watched in fascination as the older woman narrowed her eyes at Ginny before her attention flicked to Harry.
She knew. Hermione could not figure out how but it was clear that Molly Weasley possessed a type of magic which couldn't be described in a textbook.
Draco had also noticed the sudden tension in Mrs Weasley. He watched with detached interest as Weaslette met her mothers' stare with her chin up and her eyes confident.
"Did you have an enjoyable afternoon?" Molly asked her daughter pointedly.
Weasley choked on his potatoes. Draco hid his amusement as the freckled face was marred by a deep blush. If the redhead wasn't so annoying, he would consider giving him lessons in subtlety. Instead he sat back to enjoy the show.
"It was nice to see Diagon Alley returning to normal," Hermione commented. Draco silently admired her poise.
"It was getting as creepy as Knockturn Alley," Draco mused, "I was a bloody Death Eater and I still didn't want to go there."
Draco decided that Potter and Weaslette owed him a favour for playing along long enough for them to begin breathing again. Neither one had tried to inhale their food like Weasley but there would not be any congratulations on their ability to remain calm under pressure.
"Ollivander's has reopened," Hermione offered.
Molly was regarding Harry with a long, unblinking stare. The wizard sank down into his chair as though seriously contemplating hiding under the table.
Draco had watched Potter face off against Voldemort and yet he had never seen such trepidation and fear in his face before.
"Are you alright Mum?" Weaslette asked bravely. Clearly she was the only one courageous enough to draw the ire of Mrs Weasley without flinching.
"Fine Dear," Molly replied casually, "Though your Father and I would like to have a chat with you and Harry after dinner."
Arthur glanced around in confusion, "We would?"