Author's Note: Happy Sunday! There's a lot of lemony goodness ahead... I figured our lovers deserved it after everything they've been through!
August 1998
"No, you listen to me," Hermione threatened. "He was under the Imperius Curse and had no control over his actions. He didn't kill or intentionally harm anyone."
"With all due respect, Miss Granger, many people from the first war claimed that they were under the Imperius Curse, including his own father. Why should we believe that Mr. Malfoy is telling the truth?" asked a woman in a set of purple robes.
Annoyed, she rolled her eyes. "Really? Are you truly incapable of looking at his memories — which he submitted willingly — and determining based on those that he didn't have a choice?"
"He could have manipulated his memories to make them look as if he were Imperiused. How can we be sure that Mr. Malfoy isn't dangerous?"
"Then question him under Veritaserum! Are you witches and wizards or not? We have potions and spells that could quickly rule out all of this but you're too lazy to do anything about it."
Magic crackled around her as her blood pressure spiked. Shortly after the war ended, Draco had received a summons from the Ministry to testify for his war crimes, immediately throwing Hermione into a fit. He was innocent and she would prove it. There was no way she was going to allow him to be sent to Azkaban over things he unwillingly participated in.
It seemed the Wizengamot had other ideas, forcing Draco into a three-day trial where he was questioned about his upbringing and Lucius Malfoy's crimes. They wanted retribution for the crimes Lucius had committed, and since the man was dead, they were trying to place the blame on Draco.
"Miss Granger," Kingsley said, his voice booming through the packed room. "I'll remind you that you are not Mr. Malfoy's representative, nor are you his family. I suggest you think carefully before speaking."
"Minister Shacklebolt, with all due respect, last week you gave me an Order of Merlin, First Class. I'm merely here, as an eighteen-year-old war hero, to remind you that locking people up in Azkaban for their father's crimes is inexcusable." Her tone was clear and even, but anger was bubbling inside her at the hypocrisy in front of her.
A wave of magic pressed from her body and she vaguely heard a yelp from behind her, along with the sound of something snapping. One of the Wizengamot members gasped and a few others stood to look at whatever was happening behind her.
Kingsley opened his mouth to speak but Hermione continued.
"In fact, the Ministry has an awful habit of accusing the wrong people. Should we look into Sirius Black's history, perhaps? Or what about Harry Potter's? He was wrongly accused multiple times. What would have happened if he had been stripped of his magic? Where would we all be then?"
The Minister steepled his fingers in front of him and closed his eyes. The commotion behind her still and the room was silent as everyone waited for him to respond to Hermione's rant, or perhaps even have her removed for being out of line.
When he finally spoke, his voice was clear and slow, each syllable punctuated. "Mr. Malfoy, you will report to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on Monday morning for the administration of Veritaserum and subsequent questioning. Pending their findings, you will be registered at Hogwarts to complete your seventh year. Failure to comply with either of these stipulations will result in your immediate arrest."
Hermione released the breath she had been holding, and tension eased from her shoulders. She knew Draco would pass the test with the DMLE, and they had already discussed returning to Hogwarts to complete their education. It finally felt like they would be able to begin moving on from the war and all of the scars that came with it, and Draco was finally getting the fresh start he deserved.
"And please," Kingsley continued. "Go to St. Mungo's as soon as you can. I can't imagine you'll want that scarring."
She turned around to where Draco was sitting, his eyes wide and his knuckles white as they gripped the side of the chair he was sitting on. Her discarded chair lay next to him, broken into small pieces. A thin red line down his cheek, which she assumed was a result of her magical outburst and the broken chair.
Rushing to his side, she knelt in front of him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you! I just couldn't stand the idea of someone taking you away from me again."
"I — I can go?" he murmured. "That's it?"
Hermione nodded, her fingers intertwining with his, a small smile gracing her features. "That's it. You're free, Draco. Finally free."
Hermione stood beside Draco as one of the Healers inspected the injury on his cheek. Under normal circumstances, she would have just applied Dittany, but because it was caused by magical outburst, the Healer wanted to make sure there wouldn't be any residue after it healed.
"Ah, Miss Granger, I was just about to send you an owl," said Healer Bath, her head popping into the room they were in. "Do you have a moment?"
"I'll be fine, Hermione. It's a scratch. You don't need to hover," grumbled Draco. He let out a soft hiss as the Healer tending to him applied a thick paste. "I've had worse."
She sighed and dropped a kiss to the top of his head before making her way out into the corridor to speak to Healer Bath. "Have you heard anything?" she asked nervously.
Healer Bath took a deep breath before handing Hermione a folder. "The Healers in Sydney have done extensive testing on your parents and they were unable to return their memories. If they continue to work with them as they have been, there is a very high risk that they may do damage to their hippocampi and prevent them from making new memories."
It felt like a lead weight dropped into her stomach. Her entire world lurched and she wasn't certain if she was still standing upright.
All she had wanted was to keep her parents safe. She hadn't meant to erase herself from their lives forever. The plan was always to go to Australia, return their memories, and bring them back to England.
She hadn't accounted for this, for the fact that the Obliviation might be permanent.
"Hermione? Hermione, can you hear me?"
"What did you say to her?"
"Her parents… we couldn't retrieve their memories... they…"
She let the grief of losing them wash over her, succumbing to the numbness that came with it. Tomorrow she would deal with it, but for today, in that moment, she didn't want to feel anything.
September 1998
"It feels weird to be back. It's like nothing has changed and yet everything is different."
Hermione stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork, vaguely aware of what Ginny and Harry were talking about. The Great Hall was decorated with all of the house colours and lively chatter filled the space, new and returning students exchanging stories of their summers. Since the first year class was double what it had been in the past years, and the addition of an eighth year class, the hall was packed. Headmistress McGonagall had placed extension charms on the space to accommodate for all the faculty and students.
Much as she enjoyed sitting with her fellow Gryffindors, what she really wanted was to crawl into her bed and sleep. Being back at Hogwarts filled her with a sense of comfort and warmth, but also a feeling of guilt. She was eating roast chicken and veg in the place where people had died. Not far from where she sat, Voldemort had taken his final breath.
It was a hard image to wrap her head around.
"What do you think, Hermione?"
Bringing her attention back to her friends, she mumbled an apology. "Could you repeat that?"
Harry sighed lightheartedly. "I asked what you thought McGonagall's announcement was going to be tonight. She mentioned at the beginning that there was news she would share before the end of the feast."
Shrugging, she poked at the food on her plate. "If it's anything like what Dumbledore's used to be, I imagine it'll be something along the lines of an out of bounds corridor or some new regulation the Ministry has put in place." The corners of her mouth turned up in a small smirk.
"Don't remind me of that. Headmistress McGonagall is already better than Dumbledore and we've barely been back a couple of hours," Ginny said.
Rolling his eyes, Harry groaned. "You're only saying that because she made you Gryffindor's Quidditch captain this year."
"Oh, don't be sour. You can be our cheerleader," Ginny teased. "You had plenty of years of Quidditch; it's only fair that the eighth years don't get to play this year."
The noise in the Great Hall quieted as McGonagall stepped up to the owl podium. She wore the same rich green robes she always had, but there was a look of pride in her features as she smiled at the students in front of her.
"Before you all go off to bed, there are a few things to mention." Her Scottish voice rang clearly through the room as each person listened intently. Even the Slytherins loved their new Headmistress. "All eighth year students are to stay behind after the feast has finished so that I may show them to their new dormitories. You will all still be part of your houses, but you will now be sharing space on the third floor."
Hermione looked to the Slytherin table, her eyes immediately catching Draco's. He smirked at her and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Knots formed in her stomach at the thought of their close proximity for the next year, and she hoped that they would finally be able to get their relationship back to where it had been before sixth year had torn them apart.
Even though they had been living at Grimmauld Place with Harry, neither Draco nor Hermione had been ready to be intimate again. They spent countless hours talking, grieving lost time, and healing their wounds, but they had yet to broach the subject of sex and whether or not they were able to be vulnerable with one another like that.
So much had happened.
"There is also a new addition to the back of the castle, overlooking the lake," McGonagall continued, bringing Hermione's attention back to the front of the room and away from her boyfriend's hungry gaze. "The Hall of Heroes was built to honour and commemorate those who died during the wars. Families of those who were killed on Hogwarts' grounds in May were given the opportunity to have a portrait of their loved ones created, all of which can be found in the new building. I encourage each of you to go and speak to the fallen and hear of their stories. Read about those who died and did not have a portrait created. No one's story should be forgotten."
Looking over at Ginny, Hermione reached across and grabbed her friend's hand, knowing how hard it was for her to return to school without Ron. The redhead gave her a small smile and blinked away tears.
"Have you seen him yet?" Hermione asked quietly.
Ginny shook her head. "Harry and I are going tomorrow. Will you come?"
"Of course. Whatever you need."
The eighth year dormitories overlooked the Black Lake, its depths reflecting the stillness of the night. Hermione could see the faint glow of a fire coming from the south side where she knew some of the upper year students would be meeting to celebrate the start of a new year. Not long after being shown to their new space, she had found the perfect window seat for reading, or in this case, watching her classmates.
"Are you sure you don't want to go join them?" she asked, turning her head to look at Draco, who was sitting behind her with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
He shook his head and sighed. "I'm still not sure I'm ready to be back. All through dinner Blaise and Pansy kept asking me if I remembered doing certain things with them, and it's all blank. I want to remember, but I just can't. The last thing I remember about them was that we all lived together but I definitely didn't tell them secrets or open up about things. We were barely friends."
"And now they're expecting you to still be the person they knew last year and the year before?"
"Exactly. I'm still trying to figure out who that person was and if there's a way that I can merge that person with who I am now."
Resting her head against his shoulder, she looked back out over the lake. "The best way to figure that out is to go talk to them. They're at the fire; you should go be with them."
"What about you? Will you come with me?" he asked, his voice dropping to an uneasy whisper.
She shook her head. "I think you need to do this alone. I don't really want to be friends with Pansy, but if you want to, I think you should. She and Blaise were there for you when I couldn't be."
He sighed again before dropping a kiss to her cheek and untangling himself from their cosy position. "If you can't sleep tonight, you know which room mine is," he said with a wink. "I won't mind if I come home to a witch in my bed."
Rolling her eyes, she grinned back at him. "Go have fun."
She watched as he slipped through the Common Room door before turning to watch over the grounds again. The uneasy feeling she had at dinner hadn't gone away, and she wasn't certain she would be able to sleep that night. She and Draco had spent several nights together over the summer, but that was mostly to keep the nightmares away for both of them. The first night back at Hogwarts would likely be no different.
"Ugh, I can't just sit here," she muttered to herself, frustrated.
Slipping off the window seat, Hermione made her way to the door and out into the corridor. She wasn't certain where she was planning to go, letting her feet carry her mindlessly. The castle was quiet, with even Filch and Mrs. Norris out of the way. Headmistress McGonagall had probably told them to give the students this one night to adjust.
Within a few minutes, she was standing in front of a large wooden door, one she hadn't seen before. Even though the wood was weathered and the hinges creaked when it opened, she could tell it was new. She didn't even need to look at the sign hanging above it to know what was behind it.
"About bloody time one of you showed up. I feel like I've been waiting an eternity."
At the end of the long corridor was a large portrait, hung in an intricate gold frame. It depicted the Quidditch pitch on the most beautiful sunny day, a slight breeze running through the painting and rustling the hair of its inhabitants. Ron stood proudly in the middle of it, wearing a burgundy knit sweater with a large R in the middle. He reminded her so much of the boy she met on the train eight years earlier.
"We only got in today," she said quietly, unsure of how to treat the portrait of one of her best friends. "Ginny is going to come tomorrow. Does that mean anything to you? Time, I mean."
Ron shrugged. "Not really, but the other portraits in the castle do a pretty good job of keeping those of us in here up to snuff on what's happening elsewhere, so that helps. Did you know Dean and Seamus are dating?"
"They are?! Since when?" she gasped. Plopping herself down into the chair across from the portrait, she leaned her elbows on her knees. "And how do you know?"
Taking a deep breath, he launched into his story. "The Fat Lady saw them sneaking out in third year, and Sir Elwyn on the second floor saw them sneaking into the trophy room in fourth year. Herman Maystaff, outside the Ravenclaw Tower watched them slip into an alcove at the end of fifth year. And in sixth year, Johannes Schnieder saw them walking together and told Moaning Myrtle, who followed them into a bathroom and—"
"Alright!" she said, cutting Ron off. "I get the picture. You portraits are all bloody gossips."
He laughed, and the lightness in his voice made Hermione grin in response. She couldn't remember a sound ever sounding so sweet.
"If you ever want to know the secrets of the castle, just talk to a portrait. They'll tell you everything."
"Unless they're using an Invisibility Cloak," she teased. "I can't believe how many times you and Harry snuck around using that thing."
"Just Harry and I?" Ron's brows lifted high under his fringe. "I can remember quite a few times when three of us fit under there. Or what about the time in fifth year that you used it to sneak off to visit a certain ferret? Where is Draco anyway?"
"Spending some time with Pansy and Blaise and some others. This year is going to be an adjustment for a lot of us, trying to figure out how to piece together who we were before and who we are now."
Ron exhaled, nodding his head thoughtfully. "I get that. I'm still not sure how I feel about being here like this. McGonagall explained it to all of us when we woke up, and I know that my parents will be happy when I have a second frame at the Burrow and can go visit, but…"
"But?" she prompted, wanting to know more. Ron didn't open up often, and with the Hall of Heroes quiet except for the two of them, she hoped that he would use this chance to actually share with her.
"But you and Harry and Ginny, and even Malfoy, all get to move on with your lives while I watch. You'll come back to visit and bring your children and I'll still be here, eighteen-year-old Uncle Ronald." He paused and Hermione waited while he collected his thoughts. "I'm sure it'll get easier, but for right now, it's a lot to think about."
Tugging her lip between her teeth, she thought about what he was saying. She couldn't imagine waking up one day and finding herself trapped between canvas and a frame, destined to spend the rest of her days like that. It was part of why Tonks had decided not to have one made for Remus; she said he would be miserable if he were stuck like that without Sirius or James.
"I think that's why Draco chose not to have one made of Narcissa," she explained. "I don't think he would ever fully move forward if there was always a part of her here."
Ron's eyes cast down at the ground, his lips slipping into a frown. "I hadn't heard she was killed. The Weasleys and Malfoys may have a bad history, but she wasn't like the rest of them. Tell Draco… tell him I'm sorry."
"I will. Thanks, Ron."
They fell into comfortable conversation until it was well after midnight and Hermione realised she needed to go to bed. Her nervousness over seeing portrait Ron for the first time had dissipated quickly, allowing them time to reminisce about the past and apologise for all the unkind things they had said and done to each other. She said goodbye to him, promising that she would come back and see him soon.
When she finally returned to her new living quarters, Hermione immediately went to Draco's room, finding the bed to still be empty. Digging through his trunk, she found an old Slytherin jumper that was too big on her and traded her robes for the soft shirt.
His sheets were cool as she snuggled into them, letting her body and mind succumb to sleep. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when he finally returned, but she was aware of the dip in the mattress and the faint smell of burning wood. His hands snaked around her torso and pulled her close, protecting her from whatever bad dreams might come.
But for the first time in months, Hermione slept through the night.
October 1998
"Still?" Pansy gasped one morning at breakfast. Her fork slipped from her hand and clanged against her plate. "We've been back at school for nearly two months, you're practically sharing a room, and you still haven't shagged her? Merlin, Draco, what's wrong with you?"
"There is nothing wrong with me," he protested. "We've been through a lot and I'm not going to pressure her into jumping back into bed with me."
Blaise's eyes sparkled at the new information. "Back into bed? Meaning she's been there before. Do share with the rest of us."
"Oh, sod off, you cocky bastard. Not all of us feel the need to tell the rest of the school about our conquests," Draco snipped. "Besides, the whole Imperio thing happened pretty much right away. It's not exactly like I was able to tell you about it then."
Pansy waved her hand through the air nonchalantly. "Small details. You got your mind back months ago. If you're not careful, some other wizard, like Blaise over here, might swoop in and steal her from you."
Letting her words sink in, Draco shifted his attention over to the Gryffindor table where Hermione was sitting. She was smiling brightly at something Neville was saying to her, causing a pang of jealousy to settle into his veins. He couldn't let someone like Longbottom, or Merlin-forbid, Blaise, convince Hermione to move on from him.
"Fuck," he mumbled, turning back to his meal. "I can't lose her."
"And you won't," Pansy said confidently. "Here's what you need to do…"
He had slipped Hermione a note during their morning Arithmancy class asking her to meet him in the back corner of the library during their free period. She gave him a confused look but nodded her head before turning back to taking notes.
She was running late and Draco's nervousness had sprouted wings and was flying loops in his stomach. Maybe she knew what he wanted to do and was trying to find a way out of it. Maybe she was off snogging Longbottom. Or perhaps Blaise had gotten to her first…
"Sorry I'm late," she panted, coming around the corner and tripping to a halt in front of him. Her hands reached out and grabbed his arms for stability. "Professor Sprout held the class back to re-pot a few Mandrakes the second years messed up."
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took in her wild hair, bright eyes, and rosy cheeks, and he couldn't help himself. Sliding his hands through her hair, Draco closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth to hers. She gasped slightly, her lips parting and allowing him to glide his tongue against hers.
Her hands shifted from his arms to twist around his neck, keeping their bodies tight against one another. Moving his palms down her neck and back, he gripped under her arse and lifted her off the ground. Instivitely, she wrapped her legs around him, and he could feel her ankles lock behind him. The idea of being held so close to her had all blood rushing to his cock and he thought he might pass out.
She moaned deliciously into his mouth, her tongue moving slowly to dance with his. He could feel her fingertips massaging his scalp as she played with his hair.
Gods, he wanted her. Craved her. Needed her.
Moving slowly, he carried her over to the table behind him and set her down on the wooden top. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting on hers as they caught their breath.
"Do you remember the first time we kissed?" he asked. Confusion flashed through her gaze but she nodded anyway. "I had you sitting on this table here, wanting to snog you senseless. There were so many things I wanted to do to you that night but I waited... but I'm tired of waiting."
The tight pull of her brow relaxed and she smirked at him, her chin lifting. "What did you have in mind?"
Kissing her slowly, Draco moved his lips from hers, down her jaw and neck, before dropping to his knees between her parted legs. He lifted his eyes to look at her, seeing the cockiness on her face as she leaned back on her elbows.
"Are you alright with this?" he asked, not wanting her to feel obligated to do something she wasn't ready for.
"Draco," she whispered. "I've been dreaming of fucking you in the library for longer than I care to imagine."
No further prompting needed, he placed open mouth kisses on the insides of her knees. His hands slid up her thighs and under her skirt, gently brushing against the cotton of her knickers and making her sigh. He kissed higher, his fingers curling under the soaked fabric. She bucked her hips forward and his finger stroked her slit, eliciting another breathy moan.
Pushing her skirt up against her hips, he ran his tongue along the soft skin of her upper thigh. He tugged at the waistband of her knickers and she lifted her arse, allowing him to shimmy them off of her. With a roguish smirk, he tucked the pair into the back pocket of his trousers.
There was the faint sound of parchment flipping from a few rows over and he knew they could be caught at any moment, but he didn't care, and neither did she. Her bare cunt was exposed to him, dripping with want and begging for him to taste her. He hadn't even realised how much he had missed this intimacy until just then — the desperate look in her eyes as she bit her lip and watched him, waiting.
His thumb stroked her clit, and she moaned.
"Careful, love," he warned. "You don't want anyone to catch us, do you?"
Testing her, he pressed against her clit once more, a single digit slipping between her folds. She bit down on her bottom lip and her eyes fluttered shut. Her knuckles were growing white from gripping the table.
Satisfied that she wasn't making a sound, he removed his fingers from her cunt and dragged the flat of his tongue along her, savouring the taste he loved so much. Digging his fingers into the flesh of her thighs and arse, he held her in place as he sucked on her clit. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud before sliding his tongue deep into her.
One of her hands moved to grip his hair, holding his head in place as he continued to fuck her cunt. She rolled her hips against his mouth, letting out breathy gasps of pleasure. Moving his mouth slightly, he grazed his teeth against her clit and thrust two fingers into her hot core. Her orgasm was building and he wanted to feel her release.
She let his name fall from her lips, barely a whisper, as she tumbled. Her grip on his hair loosened and her hips stilled. He gave her a moment to recover as his tongue moved against her lazily.
"I can't believe we just did that," she said finally.
Rising to his feet, Draco kissed her deeply, sliding his tongue against the seam of her lips. She pressed into him, her feet hooking around his legs. Her need was as insatiable as his own and he was happy to oblige.
Hermione's hands moved to the buckle on his trousers and pulled them down enough for her to free his hard cock from his pants. Her fingers curled around his shaft, pumping him slightly before she ran her thumb over the head. Knowing he wasn't going to last long if she kept up her ministrations, he lifted her up again, her cunt positioned above his cock.
Pressing her against the bookshelf behind him, he lowered her down onto him, giving her a moment to adjust. The walls of her cunt were tight, holding him in place. He knew that it had been two years since either of them had shagged anyone and he didn't want to hurt her or rush through this. Not that fucking her against the library bookshelf was exactly romantic, but it didn't seem to bother her any. If anything, it seemed to turn her on even more.
Her fingers dug into his arms and she tried to buck against him. Following her lead, he moved her slowly, building up pace until she was bouncing on his cock. She dropped her mouth to the juncture of his neck and shoulder and he could feel her teeth grazing the exposed skin. He hoped she was going to come again soon, because he knew if she kept that up, he wouldn't last much longer.
With her legs wound tightly around him, he moved one hand from under her to press into her clit. Rubbing rough circles, he sucked on her collarbone, drawing her closer to a second orgasm. Her walls fluttered and tightened, locking him in place as she clenched down around him.
"That's it, Hermione. Fuck, you feel so good."
Bouncing her on him a few more times, he felt his body stiffen and his dick pulse with pleasure. Heat ran through his body, exploding out of him as he emptied himself inside of her. She clenched down on him again, milking his climax until he felt drained; literally and figuratively.
Her breathing was warm and ragged against his neck. "You were — that was — can we—"
"Whatever you want, love. Whatever you want, and it's yours."
November 1998
They spent countless hours in each other's rooms, limbs tangled into a web of intimacy, silently praying to never have to let go. On weekends they would emerge for meals, only to return to the quiet and safety of their space. No one disturbed them, though whether it was because they knew better or the silencing charms had failed, Hermione couldn't be certain.
"I love you."
He peppered kisses against her collarbone between professions of his love for her. He told her how beautiful she was, how brilliant she was, how he would never let her go so long as she wanted him. He worshipped every part of her, working his way down her torso until he was nestled between her legs, his fingers parting her folds until he was able to leave kisses there as well.
"I need you," she moaned, her eyes closing and back arching against the mattress. "I love you and need you. Yes, like that."
There were no other words to aptly express the want and need she felt for him. After the war, when they didn't immediately fall into bed with one another, and when they returned to school in September and he wasn't throwing himself at her, self-doubt crept in. It taunted her, reminding her of the times when she would see Pansy clinging to him as they walked through the halls like they owned the place, filling the space she had once occupied with Draco.
But he was there every day, telling her he loved her, showing that he loved her. He knew how she took her coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon, and which jam she preferred on her toast. Both the physical and emotional parts of their relationship had returned to where they'd been two years earlier.
His fingers stroked the exact spot she needed and Hermione tumbled over the edge of her orgasm, gripping the sheets beneath her as waves of pleasure hit her. The cry of his name fell from her lips as her eyes squeezed shut. She could feel his smirk against her clit, his tongue darting out to keep her in this suspended state of satisfaction.
She opened her eyes and looked down at where he was still positioned between her legs, his fingers pressing into her thighs. His pupils were blown wide and his mouth was damp with her climax. He had never looked so disheveled before, and she was completely in love.
"You're perfect," he whispered, his breath ghosting across her sensitive cunt. "I love you."
December 1998
"Can anyone tell me what steps I would take to create Draught of Living Death?"
Hermione knew the answer to the question; she could repeat it verbatim since she was fifteen. Any other day, she would have been able to recite the full list of ingredients and how to prepare them for the potion, but today was different.
Draco's hand had spent the entire potions class creating a taunting pathway up her leg and under her skirt. He hadn't even touched her bare skin, yet she felt like she was on the edge of a climax from what limited contact they had. The fact that they were in a classroom surrounded by their peers only seemed to add to the thrill of it all.
"Miss Granger," Professor Slughorn called. "Surely as one of our top students, you know the answer to this."
She cleared her throat and wracked her brain for the answer. "Of course, Professor." Her stockings vanished and she was left bare-legged. Draco ran his thumb over her knickers, applying the slightest pressure against her clit. "First you'll press — no, cut — wait, that's not…"
Slughorn looked at her curiously. "Are you alright, Miss Granger? This is a sixth year level potion. Surely you've had this memorised for years."
A single finger pulled her knickers to the side while a second digit stroked her wet folds. The pressure on her clit increased.
"I'm fine. Just a bit of a headache is all."
Two fingers moved against her cunt, opening her up and sliding in slowly.
"Would you like to go see Madam Pomfrey?" Slughorn asked, his voice laced with concern.
Draco thrusted into her deeper, his middle finger hitting her in just the right spot.
"Yes!" she gasped, jumping slightly at the feeling of bliss welling up inside of her. "I mean, erm, no, that's alright. I'll just go see her after class."
Slughorn nodded his head solemnly and then called upon another student to continue listing out the directions. Pansy, who was sitting the row ahead of them turned around and smirked at Hermione knowingly.
"You're blushing, Granger," she quipped quietly. "Might want to get that under control before someone finds out it's not a headache you have after all."
Squeezing her eyes shut and resting her head on the table, Hermione focused on what Draco was doing and the delicious way his hand moved against her. He knew the exact speed in which to move his thumb, how to crook his fingers just right, and the exact way to thrust into her so that the rest of the room couldn't hear how wet she was.
His breath fanned across her neck as he leaned over her to whisper, his hand still moving against her. "I can't wait to take you when class is over. Perhaps Slughorn will leave us alone and I can bend you over the table and—"
"Mr Malfoy! Our other top student. What ingredients would you harvest under a full moon?"
The prat didn't miss a beat; his movements never faltered, even as he answered the question with confidence. "Fluxweed, Jasmine, and Nyctocereus."
"Right you are! Five points to Slytherin."
Hermione wanted to smack him for his confidence, for the fact that he got points over something so simple, for the fact that the confidence in his voice was the sexiest thing she'd heard all day and she wanted to hear him say her name over and over again in that same tone.
Instead, she gripped the edge of her seat as her orgasm washed over her. Biting her lip, she stifled her moan and remained as still as possible. She could only imagine the trouble and humiliation she would face if they were caught.
Draco removed his fingers from her knickers, sucking them into his mouth one at a time.
"I'll get you back for that," she whispered, her mouth dry.
"I hope you do." And then the bastard winked.
January 1999
Draco had never seen such a beautiful sight as Hermione naked by the twinkling Christmas tree. The lights danced across her body, the glowing lights casting shadows of her bouncing breasts over her stomach. Her knees bracketed his hips as she slid against his cock, her movements rough and wanting.
Studying the rocking motion of her hips and the way she threw her head back in ecstasy, he watched as she succumbed to the feeling of her climax. She cried out his name, followed by a gasp of air as she crumbled over him, her head nestling in the crook of his neck.
With her taut nipples rubbing against his chest and her hips still rolling slowly, Draco dug his fingers into her waist and thrust upwards, chasing his own release. He could feel his cock stiffen and his body tense as the pressure built. A few more pumps into her and he would be there, falling alongside her.
"Under the tree? Really?"
At Harry's voice, Hermione yelped and immediately clambered off Draco, leaving his erect dick standing tall and glistening in the Christmas lights. He groaned at the simultaneous loss of contact and the fact that he was now completely exposed.
"You have the entire house to yourself for the whole day, yet you chose to shag under the tree that's placed directly in front of the Floo?"
Reaching for one of the blankets on a nearby sofa, Draco tossed it over both his and Hermione's laps. She tugged the knit material up over her breasts, her face flushed.
Harry stood in front of them, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as Ginny stood behind him, doubled over in silent laughter. "We go back to school tomorrow; you couldn't have waited until then?" he groaned.
One corner of Draco's mouth pulled upwards into a wicked smirk. "But at Hogwarts we couldn't have shagged under the tree, here, at your home. And since this is the first Christmas Hermione and I are spending without any family, we just thought we'd do something to take our minds off of the sadness of it all."
Playing along, Hermione sniffed and batted her eyelashes at her friend. "It's just so hard."
"I noticed," Ginny replied, bursting into another fit of laughter. "Nicely done, Hermione."
With a groan, Harry pulled Ginny from the room. "You better use multiple cleaning spells!" he shouted from the corridor. "And maybe Obliviate me while you're at it."
February 1999
Draco was certain he was having an out of body experience.
He was leaning back against the stacks in the library. His one hand was gripping the shelf behind him while the other was holding onto fistfuls of Hermione's curls. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her cheeks hollowed.
The back of the library had become a favourite spot of theirs. It was tucked away enough that the risk of being caught was small, but it was public enough that the risk was still there. And that seemed to turn Hermione on more than anything.
After their first tryst in October had brought them back together intimately, they had been finding new places to get each other off; the potions classroom, the alcove on the fourth floor — even in the Great Hall one night, long after everyone was asleep. The library remained at the top of their list through it all.
"Fuck," Draco hissed through clenched teeth. "Keep doing that."
If it was possible to smirk with her mouth around his cock, Hermione was doing it. She pulled him in deeper, her lips holding him tightly. He could feel her tongue slide along the bottom of his shaft as her hand moved from gripping his thigh to cupping his bollocks.
"I'm going to come if you don't stop," he warned, his voice low.
With a pop, she released him. "That's kind of the point," she teased. The tip of her tongue flicked out to graze against the head of his cock before she drew him back into the warmth of her mouth.
Groaning again, Draco let his head fall back on the shelf. He pressed his eyes shut and focused on the feeling of Hermione and the way she moaned deeply, causing a rumble of electricity to course through him. His body tensed, and she sucked harder.
The head of his cock brushed the back of her throat as she pulled him into the hilt and he exploded.
March 1999
"Oh gods, yes! Fuck, yes. More, Draco!"
Hermione arched her back against the cold stands of the Quidditch pitch, her exposed nipples taut and alert as Draco pounded into her repeatedly. She was thankful for the cushioning charms they'd cast on the benches earlier.
It wasn't that she had intended on shagging Draco on the stands, but when the opportunity arose, there was no way she was going to turn it down.
Draco's hand slid up her stomach and tweaked a nipple, eliciting another cry from her lips. His other thumb rubbed rough circles over her clit.
"Hermione," he growled, his voice low. "You look so perfect like this. I've imagined fucking you here for years."
The pure desire in his voice was enough to throw her over the edge, her climax roaring through her like fire, her screams of his names echoing around the empty field.
When Draco released himself into her, collapsing against her chest, she could feel the quick patter of his heart against hers. His breath came out in warm pants against her neck, lazy kisses being placed against her flushed skin.
She ran her cold hands along his back, her nails grazing the rough lines of his scars, and felt his cock stir in her. "Can we do that again?"
April 1999
Draco was vaguely aware of their friends entering the Common Room, but he was too busy trying to unsnap Hermione's bra to care.
"Third time this week?" Ginny laughed. "Pay up, Potter."
Harry coughed loudly, clearly trying to get them to stop or at least make an attempt to cover up, but Draco urged on. Hermione's legs were wound tightly around his waist and he could feel her soaked knickers through his trousers. If Harry and Ginny would just leave then he could finish what he started, which was shagging Hermione in the shared space.
"You know you have your own rooms, right?" Harry sighed. "They're not even that far from here."
Hermione giggled beneath him as her hips bucked into his. Clearly she was planning on ignoring them as well. Her teeth captured his lip and tugged hard.
"Witch," Draco quipped quietly. He tipped his head up to look at Harry and Ginny over Hermione's head and addressed the pair. "Red has her own Common Room. You could spend more time there. Or you could stick around and learn a thing or two."
Ginny's face lit up and she bounced on her toes. "Oh, let's do that! Draco, can you show him how to—"
"No!" Harry yelled, pressing his hand against his witch's mouth. "Draco isn't teaching me anything and we are not staying to watch them shag. I've already walked in on that once."
"Suit yourself," Draco smirked.
Hermione's legs squeezed his hips and rolled her pelvis against him. His cock twitched in his pants as he brought his attention back to the witch under him. She was far more enjoyable than teasing Potter.
"Where were we?" he drawled, capturing her lips between his, the satisfying pop of her bra snapping between his fingers.
May 1999
"Do you remember when you first came to visit me?" Ron asked one afternoon in May.
Hermione nodded her head as she took a bite of her sandwich. "Sure. What about it?"
"Well I told you that portraits know everything, and they do, 'Mione. They know about what happens in the library, and tucked away alcoves, and even abandoned classrooms during the dinner commemorating one year since the end of the war."
She stopped chewing, heat rising in her cheeks. "No," she choked, not caring that she hadn't swallowed her food yet.
"Oh yes. Several portraits and ghosts told me all about the shagging going on in the school this year and I nodded along, thinking that this was what always happened with the upper year students. Imagine my surprise though, to learn that all of the wild events they told me about were with one couple…"
"Oh gods," she murmured, eyes wide. "No, no, no. They told you about the classroom?"
He nodded, grimacing. "From what I heard, you left sometime after the dinner and returned just in time for the dancing."
"We missed dessert too," Hermione grumbled. Draco had insisted that he needed her right then and couldn't bear to wait any longer.
"That's not what I heard. There was something about chocolate and—"
"No! I can't do this. Oh Merlin, I can't believe you heard about that. I—I have to go. Bye, Ronald!"
Hermione tore out of the hall as quickly as she could, needing to put space between her and Ron before he told her about more of her and Draco's sexual escapades around the castle. It was bad enough that some of their classmates had walked in on some heavy petting and dry humping — that was more amusing than anything — but the fact that Ron knew of the more intimate details was awful.
"That's it," she announced when she walked into the Common Room to find Draco sitting on one of the sofas with Harry, Blaise, Pansy, and Theo. "No more shagging outside our rooms."
"About fucking time," Harry muttered. "I've seen Draco's arse one too many times."
June 1999
The small boats carried them across the lake, Hogwarts' lights glowing in the water's mirror-like surface. Draco sat in the small rowboat with Hermione tucked against his side, and Harry and Ginny on the bench in front of them.
"I can't believe we're leaving forever," said Ginny quietly. She leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, removing any of the distance between them.
Looking down at Hermione, Draco watched the reflection of lights twinkling in her eyes. Her gaze was focused on the castle fading the distance; the place that they had experienced so many memories slipping away into the night.
"Everything alright?" he asked softly, his lips pressing into her hair briefly.
She nodded, a look of melancholy filling her features. "We almost died there, multiple times. I tried to fight a troll, a Basilisk, a werewolf, a handful of dark wizards… I wasn't expecting to feel this sad leaving."
"That's all the bad things though," Draco said. "You became friends with Harry and Ron because of that troll, you helped save Ginny's life because you knew about the Basilisk, and you saved my cousin from the Dementor's kiss. You helped bring down an evil wizard in there."
"I fell in love with you," she added with a small smile. "That part was pretty great."
Pressing his lips to hers, he poured out all the strange and wonderful and conflicting emotions he felt bubbling up. He owed everything to the woman sitting next to him, and he knew he would do whatever it took to keep her there.
He broke the kiss, pulling away only enough that their noses were still brushing against each other's. "I'm going to marry you one day, I hope you know that."
Hermione let out a small, breathless laugh. "I certainly hoped so."
Kissing her quickly once more, Draco shifted on the small bench so that both of his arms were wrapped around her, her back to his chest. The two couples sat quietly in the boat for the remainder of the short ride to Hogsmeade. There wasn't much else to say.
It was hard to put into words how eight years of memories made a man feel as he left the place that surrounded it at all.
Hermione had been right; falling in love there had been pretty great. Making the friends he did had been irreplaceable. It took away the darkness his father had cast upon his life, and held ease the pain of losing his mother on those very grounds.
The boats docked in the small village and everyone disembarked onto land, shuffling forward nervously. There was a whole new world out there for each of them to go forward and take by the horns. Or whatever it was McGongagall had said to them at the final feast.
"Alright all yer kids... Erm… 'spose yer not kids anymore," Hagrid said with a sniffle. "Hogwarts'll always be here for yer. Best not miss the train home."
Slipping his hand into Hermione's, Draco pulled her forward towards the red engine. They made their way through the train, past the younger students who had no idea the emotions their peers were struggling with.
"Are you going back to the Manor then?" Harry asked when they found a compartment. "You know you don't have to."
"The Ministry has gone through with Curse Breakers and cleared out all the dark artifacts and books, but there's still so much to do before I can sell it," Draco replied. "I don't want the property anymore, but I hate the idea of it just sitting around empty forever. We've decided to stay there for a few months and then find a place to call our own."
Hermione, flipping the page of her book, interjected, "Somewhere Lucius hasn't had his hands all over. I don't want to start a family somewhere Voldemort might have been. So, fresh start. Which you should be doing with Grimmauld Place as well. Not just a few rooms, but the whole place."
Ginny slid over to sit next to Hermione, the two of them discussing what they could do to freshen up the large home Harry and Ginny would be living in. "Oh! Let's go find Neville. He would have great ideas for the back garden," said the redhead.
When they were alone, Harry cast a silent privacy charm on the compartment door. "I'm asking Ginny to marry me next weekend. I'm getting my mother's ring from Gringotts tomorrow and I'm asking her to marry me." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "You think she'll say yes?"
"I've heard about the Potter ring; of course she'll say yes," Draco laughed. "Besides, she loves you. I can't imagine a better suited person for you and vice versa."
"Thanks," Harry said, a slight blush rising in his cheeks.
Sticking his hand out towards Harry, Draco smiled. "Congratulations, mate."
Unlike the first time the two wizards met, Harry grasped his hand and shook it.
It was unreal what a difference eight years could make.
AN: If you haven't already seen it, my amazing friends, PotionChemist and Curly_Kay commissioned a piece by the lovely and talented Nadya Polyakova for Truth, Lies, and Storytelling! You can find it on my tumblr, breathofthephoenix, or on Nadya's, nadiapolyakova.