Happy Monday all! My apologies for the tardiness.
Huge thanks to my Alpha/Betas NuclearNik and Monica03, without them I would be a mess and this story would be a disaster. Also a huge thanks to my Omegas (pre-readers) MarshmallowMcGonagall, QuinTalon, and Weestarmeggie!
To everyone who reads, subscribes, bookmarks, comments/reviews, follows, reblogs, likes, etc: I appreciate you all SO VERY MUCH. With the length of my chapters and the editing process, it leaves little time to come back and interact (I'll still try, however!). I promise though, all of it makes me go starry eyed and flail about every single time.
Hermione hadn't spent so much time in Diagon Alley since she'd shopped for Christmas gifts last year. When they arrived, Draco produced a list from the inner pocket of his coat. The only word she'd caught from his mumbling as he smoothed it back out had been Mother. They'd been to Madam Malkin's, Madam Primpernelle's, Obscurus Books, TerrorTours, and Gringotts on behalf of Narcissa before they were able to start their own bout of shopping. Harry would have a fit if he knew they'd been here for three hours already.
Draco's hands had scarcely left her, completely unfazed to walk down Diagon Alley with her tucked against his side, his hand on her waist. In the shops, they browsed with linked hands, and when she needed both of them, she could feel his fingertips in the ends of her hair or trailing along the center of her back. It was puzzling; he was never this handsy. It was unlike Draco to be spooked by a tarot reading, but far be it from she to complain about it.
They were in Potage's Cauldron Shop when her stomach rumbled audibly.
Gray eyes cut over towards her as she flushed pink. "Let's go have lunch. We can come back later."
"No! It's fine. We can at least finish up here. Besides, it's barely noon."
He'd already caught her hand and was headed towards the exit, however. The brisk autumn wind blew her curls about as they stepped outside and a shiver raced down her spine until an arm slithered around her waist and pulled her into his warm side.
They passed Scrivenshaft's and Hermione made a note to stop in for those new notebooks she needed before they went back home.
It wasn't until two shops down when she realized that she'd referred to Appledale as home in her mind, and she stumbled. Draco's arm tightened around her, keeping her upright.
"Alright?"
Her face flamed. "Yes, thank you." Her eyes darted to the side to see him watching her, curious concern dancing behind his eyes, and she forced her attention back to the path lest she discover anymore uneven cobblestones.
There was something else that had been on her mind all morning: the day before, when he'd given her the rarest of flowers so she could experiment as she wished, a realization hit her. It didn't fully solidify until well after his declaration of how he'd give her anything, if she just asked. Not until she woke up with her face tucked against his chest and the steady beating of his heart beneath her ear did everything come together in a culmination. It was then when the warm, swirling feelings in her belly, chest, and bones turned to a liquid gold and the realization that she loved him struck her stupid.
She'd watched him sleep for the better portion of an hour as she marveled over the revelation. It didn't make any sense to love him this soon but here they were. She'd always thought these sorts of things should run along a timeline or schedule. The desire to care and insist upon some rationality should've taken over her entire thought process. Instead, it was nowhere to be found, just like the desire to try to find it. When it came down to it, she realized those were pre-war ideas, and she was at least twenty thousand leagues from being the person she was back then. She could only hope that when she inevitably screwed up and said it, he would be to that point too... or hopefully close to it.
It was like holding the best secret on Earth against her chest. She'd wanted to say it a half dozen times that morning already. Firstly against his mouth when he kissed her after waking up the first time, then against his hair as he settled back in to sleep some more in the circle of her arms.
Tinkling bells brought her attention back to the present, and she realized they'd made it all the way down Diagon and were about to be seated in the restaurant. They ordered their usual fare and when the waitress zoomed off, she realized how serious Draco looked as he stared out the window. His eyes were tight at the corners, and she could feel his knee bouncing beneath the table. He never did that, ever. He hated fidgeting with a passion and had been known to clamp a hand down on her thigh to make her stop jiggling it.
"Draco."
The entirety of his attention swung around and landed on her with enough force to lay her flat.
Breathe in, breathe out. "What's wrong?"
His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring before forcing himself to relax and become still, gray eyes still tight. "I have to tell you something. I've been putting it off for a while now."
Her shoulders tensed, and she gripped the napkin in her lap, squeezing it between her fingers. Had it been a paper napkin it'd be well on its way to becoming confetti. She couldn't stop her eyes from flitting across the planes of his face. What had caused such tension after yesterday's perfection? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. I have to tell you something almost never ended well. They were also in public rather than at the estate, which meant he was hoping that it would deter her from pitching a fit.
"Why did you wait?" Her voice trembled.
"I wasn't sure how you'd take it, and I'm obviously still not but there's no point waiting anymore. You'd find out soon enough anyway." His hands dropped out of sight, back to his lap.
The silence stretched on, and the air thickened around them. She opened her mouth to demand he spit it out already when the damnable waitress appeared. They both froze as she put their food and drinks down before scurrying off.
Hermione felt warmth surround their table and knew he'd cast some sort of privacy ward.
He met her eye again and squared his shoulders, as if he'd used the moment of interruption to fortify himself. "I'm a Veela."
His voice had been quiet and calm as if he hadn't just dropped a massive bomb. Her mind sputtered as it grappled with the new information. Something shifted behind his eyes, his brows crinkled in distress and prompting her to action.
"You're a what?" The phrase was stuck on repeat in her head, so it shouldn't have surprised her to hear the breathy question come out of her mouth.
"A Veela. Quarter Veela, actually." He looked like he was memorizing the lines of her face.
"You mean with the…" She gestured behind her, pointing at her back.
He nodded once, sharply.
She fell back against her chair in shock, not able to tear her eyes off of him. White-gold hair and moonbright skin. Why hadn't she picked up on that before now? He looked an awful lot like Fleur in complexion now that she thought about it. So had both Lucius and Narcissa. And the way he behaved towards her… Her heart took off at a gallop, slamming against her ribs.
"When did you find out?" she asked.
"Summer before fourth year." He was staring at his plate now, systematically breaking up a crisp into crumbs.
That must mean… No. A thousand instances spun through her mind starting with the World Cup when he told her to keep her head down. Catching him watching her in class or in the great hall. How he'd turned his attention from her to mainly Harry and Ron when he wanted to goad them. The beautiful moving sketches that she found on her nightstand every morning while she was in the hospital wing because of Dolohov. The agony in his eyes when she was being tortured. His lack of dates since Hogwarts. Lunch together at least twice a week and then some.
It all made sense now, how he was her Due North, her calm in the storm. That sense of home and safety that was always there with him when it had only ever been there before with Harry. Why she hadn't cursed him when he'd caught her at that gala when she'd been having a panic attack, and it was why she was brought back to rights whenever he touched her. She suddenly felt lighter as all those questions that had plagued her evaporated into nothingness now that she had her answer. A memory from the previous day floated into her head.
"Anything." His voice was low, almost ragged. "I'd give you anything in this world. You've but to ask and it's yours."
They were mates. He would be devoted to her until his dying breath.
"Kneazle got your tongue?" he asked morosely, interrupting her thoughts as he flicked the crumbs from his fingertips and glanced up at her again from his plate.
"It's a lot to process..."
He nodded as he looked back out the window. He seemed grateful that she at least hadn't run off screaming.
It couldn't have been easy, learning that the person you were supposed to hate was the person who would complete you, seeing that person be with other people, be hunted down to be culled, tortured, and maimed in front of you, and then be mixed up in a massive magical battle. His behavior fourth year forward took on a whole new context.
"It makes me sad for you. It should be someone you would choose outside of the influence."
At that, his mercurial eyes locked onto hers. "Outside of our shared history, what makes you think I wouldn't consider you?"
She opened her mouth but froze and shut it again, the space between her eyebrows crinkling in thought. They were both highly intelligent, first and second in their year. They had similar interests, loved debating, loved art. Their tastes in books ran close, they both loved films, the symphony, and the opera; they'd even attended it together. In converse, there were several things they were complimentary on. They worked well together as work partners. She'd always noticed that the things he enjoyed doing, she despised and vice versa. He always did the dishes when she had him over for lunch or dinner, which was a chore she didn't like fooling with despite there being a simple magical solution. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made.
The thus far ignored pickles on his plate caught her attention. She hated pickles, but Draco loved them, and she was always happy to hand hers over. The inverse was true with olives. She loved them, and Draco would rather die than eat one. Or act like he was dying if he accidentally ate one.
Her eyes met his again. "When you put it like that, it makes sense; we make sense. But Draco, we do share that history together, not that that's mattered in quite a long time, of course."
He clenched his jaw as he glared at his plate, "At the very least, please don't ask to have me removed as your partner at work. If you want to stay with Potter after this, I understand."
She froze and watched as he folded in on himself. He crossed his arms as he resumed staring morosely at his plate, his leg bouncing as if he wanted nothing more than to flee the situation.
She wasn't sure where he would run to seeing as they currently lived together and the fact that he wouldn't be able to stay away for long if he intended to keep living.
His eyes snapped to follow her as she got out of her side of the booth and rounded the table. Hermione invaded his space and crowded him up against the window so the chance of escape was nil, unless he did something like climb the furniture or duck under the table and crawl out. She pried his hands from where he had them buried against himself and took them within her own, forcing him to turn towards her. Catching his eyes, she played with his fingers, waiting until he looked at her steadily and lost some of the caginess.
"Do you really think I'd just abandon you? Reject you?" she asked, voice gentle.
He let out a tight sigh. "It's different for me, Hermione. I need you. The inverse isn't necessarily true."
"I wouldn't say that at all. Like I said, this is a lot to process. I only said I was sad for you over your lack of choice, not that I felt for you because I didn't want anything to do with you. I do have some questions, though, and a few things to confess myself." Since he was putting himself out there, she figured she may as well tell him that he wasn't the only one affected.
"Of course you do, you're you." He further relaxed, fingers grasping hers as his eyes rolled playfully. He looked intrigued at what confessions she may have in store.
If he was back to sarcasm and jabs then things would be okay.
"How is it you've been able to hold off?"
"What do you mean?"
"Veelas need their mates. I did enough reading before Fleur married Bill to know a decent amount about them. I wanted to make sure she wasn't doing anything to entrap him. Veelas need their mates, need… intimacy, with them in order to continue living." She trailed off at his snicker.
"How often do we eat together? See each other? Spend time together outside of work? There's much more to intimacy than sex. You know that. So far, it's been enough." The "barely"' was unsaid but she heard it all the same.
Her cheeks reddened, but he was right. It wasn't like they hadn't been intimate in other ways more recently.
"It's just… the books—"
"Those books were likely written by someone like Lockhart who'd never even met a Veela before." He sneered derisively at the mere mention of their second year Defense teacher.
"So where do we go from here? Do we need to move in together? Well, on a more permanent basis anyway." Her brain went from zero to a thousand miles an hour.
"While that would be lovely beyond words, I don't want this to be more of a burden on you than it has to be."
She could see how much it meant to him for her to choose this because she wanted it, not because it was what he needed despite the severity of that need. Besides, a burden was the last thing it was.
"It's not! You could have come out and told me when you reached the age of maturity. Could have popped round and told me that we were it for one another for life. But you didn't. You took your time, got to know me properly, asked me to be your consort. Everything has been done by my consent when it could very well have been different, I imagine."
"You can't blame me for taking the slow route; I didn't want to scare you, and I wanted it to be as much of a choice as possible. Obligation often breeds resentment, and I wouldn't be able to live with that. I wanted to do it right if I could manage it."
She bit her lip as warmth spread through her chest. "No, of course. I don't blame you."
It didn't matter what he was. He was still her Draco and as long as that fact held, all would be well in her world. Should she be angry he'd kept it a secret? Yes, probably. Would she get miffed later? Possibly. For now she felt lighter than air at having the answers she'd been desperately wanting for months. Being his mate was something that would take time to sink in the more she ruminated on it. As she'd told him twice, it was a lot to process.
"Let's go home," he suggested, interrupting her train of thought. His eyes drank in her face before landing squarely on her mouth. They had shopping left to do but it could damn well wait.
She gathered their lunches, stuffing them into a to-go bag that the waitress— who knew them well by this point, as often as they ate there— had already left on the table. Draco counted out well enough Galleons for their meals and a generous tip as she slipped into her coat.
The trip to the Leaky for the Floo went by in a blur with her hand ensconced in his.
He wrapped her in his arms, and she threw the Floo Powder at their feet, sending them home in a whoosh of green flames. He took the bag from her fingers and dropped it into a chair, bringing his hands up to her face to cup her face, eyes devouring her.
"May I kiss you?" he asked hoarsely.
Her heart fluttered, and she barely was able to dip her chin before he'd closed the distance, cupping her neck and kissing her hungrily. His fingers splayed across the small of her back as she pressed herself to him, sliding her arms up and around his neck. He was home, safety, Due North, her calm in the storm, the eye of the hurricane that was her life. She could practically feel how he was the other half of her that had been missing for so long, and now that she knew, it was obvious.
He pulled back half an inch and inhaled a shuddering breath before planting a series of short, quick pecks, occasionally nipping her lip and making her whimper. The rigidity he usually held himself with seemed to have melted away, and there was far less restraint in his touch. She was sure he'd been expecting her to run away screaming, to be horrified by what she'd learned. It was undeniably strange and not something she'd ever anticipated in a thousand years, but it felt right and in light of all the strange things, it made sense and that was all that mattered.
She pulled back, and he instantly released her, hands settling on her hips as he looked down at her with glittering eyes and swollen lips from their moment of passion. The couch was the goal as she backed him across the room and pushed him to sit. Climbing into his lap, she straddled him and resumed devouring him in kiss after kiss.
It was as if his soul were singing to her and hers was calling back in reply, in acceptance. He broke away and tucked his face against her neck, breathing her in. His fingers trembled where they were splayed across her back, and she could feel him decompress from what had to have been one of the most stressful situations he'd experienced in years. He sucked in a shaky breath, and she felt a damp warmth against the column of her throat.
Her fingers stroked along his shoulders as she pressed kisses against his hair while he clung to her. "Everything's alright, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.
Eventually he pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. She brushed away the rogue tears that had escaped when the relief had overwhelmed his system. The naked desire from the photograph she'd seen in their office was on display for the first time now that he didn't have to hold back constantly.
"It's not my intention to smother you, but I can't seem to be able to stop myself. It's just a massive relief, overall, to be accepted by my mate. Not all are so lucky. Some people's soulmates die younger and then when they hit the Age of Inheritance, they decline until they give up this life, their soul going on to try to find them again in the next one. Some people reject theirs and the Veela will react in accordance to the wishes of their mate. It's a compulsion to do what makes them happy."
She blinked and froze, her heart stuttering. That certainly wasn't in any of the books. How strong was this compulsion and what were the limits of it? "Compulsion?"
"Don't go getting twisted and obsessing over that word. It doesn't apply to us. The things I do for you are things I want to do already. Compulsions in both people, whether given into or not, are a natural occurrence to help facilitate a successful mating if either party is hesitant. It's purely a survival reaction. It's certainly not a situation where you could do something like tell me to go jump off the London Bridge, and I'd want to go do it."
The ability to breathe returned. It would've been an exceptionally uncomfortable situation had she found herself with any sort of control over him in that manner. The slant that would have had over their relationship would have colored it in much darker tones than she wanted to think about.
"Yes, well, it's not a situation that's happened in quite a long time but the Ministry has ways of acting in the Veela's best interest if someone petitions them to intervene. More than a few of the old families saw benefits in bringing Veela blood into their lines, and of course, they passed laws to protect themselves," he said as he watched for her reaction.
"You mean I could have been made to be with you?" she asked. Surprise and horror contorted her features as she stared.
He nodded. "It'd be similar to a marriage or population law the Wizengamot has enacted in the past. You'd have to agree to live with or near me or risk having your wand snapped and being removed from wizarding society. All of wizarding society. It's enough of a threat that they've never had to exile anyone from my understanding."
"I can't imagine myself complying with either of those sorts of laws to begin with," she grumbled. Her eyebrows slanted severely at the audacity of the Ministry to force people into lives they likely didn't want.
The idea made her think of how Molly had used a love potion on Arthur, and she wondered how many witches and wizards had drunk one—or several—in order to learn to love, or at least learn to tolerate, the person they'd been stuck with. She shuddered, and his hands rubbed up and down her back in response as if he knew where her thoughts lay.
"You're not one to be forced into anything, for one thing. Forcing a situation has a tendency to set it up for it backfiring spectacularly. For another thing, it's rare for mates to reject each other, so it's usually not a worry. It may take some time to get used to or know the other person, but from the few accounts I've heard about, it worked out fine in the end. Finally, I wanted you to choose me. I'd do it all over—suffer the same—if it meant everything working out for you to be here with me like you are right now."
"You suffered?" She pulled back enough to examine his face.
He sighed, licking his lips as he chose his words carefully.
"The truth, Draco. Tell me the truth. In its entirety." The curls of anger that'd been missing earlier now made their appearance. Mate or not, nothing less than the full truth was going to be tolerated.
"You're not going to like it."
It's not like she was a stranger to hearing things she didn't like, especially as of late. Her eyebrows rose on her forehead.
"It involved a lot of potions and very little sleep for a long time. Pansy taught me her best glamor charms and with some help from Severus's old potion books and diaries, I was able to make modifications to— Why are you scowling like that?"
"Because you suffered when you didn't have to, Draco! You repressed your very nature in order to give me a chance at normalcy in admittedly a very unusual situation! Do you not know me well enough to know that I would've helped you?"
His lips pursed, distaste coloring his features. "I didn't need you to give me help. I needed things to play out like they did, naturally and completely free of any sort of manufactured coercion."
As much as the thought of him suffering distressed her, it was probably nothing in comparison to the things he obsessed over. It was clear everything had been for the sake of her own free will as much as the idea could be applied. She reminded herself that everything was fine now, and there was no reason for him to suffer discomfort or uncertainty anymore. Acceptance was the appropriate response, so she kissed him until the look melted away.
"Now that it's no longer a concern, promise that you'll allow me to help if you need it." The idea of it happening after this clawed at her brain, and she clenched her fingers in his shirt sleeves.
"I promise I'll tell you if it happens. If it makes you feel better, I haven't suffered in months. The last suppression potion I took was right before our picnic."
That'd been months ago; The rigidity bled from her as the knowledge soothed her mind.
"Thank you."
Another thought occurred to her, and it brought on another wave of discomfort.
"What's wrong now?"
"Did you have to register?" The question whooshed out of her in a rush.
"No, nobody officially knows that about my family. It's all vague speculation amongst some of the older families but nothing concrete. Mother said the Blacks stopped recording the trait eons ago, and the Malfoys never seemed to record it in the first place." He paused and eyeballed her before divulging the next bit. "Robards knows and so does Potter, but that was all purely because of the whole incident that got me suspended for a month. Since I'm so valuable to him with all my knowledge of Estates and the Pureblood circles and families from the dark side, he's risked his position should anyone find out. Veela are formidable opponents, regardless of percentage."
"So he's essentially turned you into a tank." Disgusted colored her tone before her eyes shot wide. "You mean Harry knew about this back then, and he said nothing to me?!"
"You can't get angry at him. I demanded that he keep that to himself after the truth was revealed. Things wouldn't have played out the same had he spilled the beans."
She could concede that but it didn't mean she had to like that Harry was in the know before she was.
"There was a secondary reasoning behind wanting to go to France for treatment, too, while we're doing this whole thing of laying our cards on the table. St. Mungo's is required to inform the Ministry of incidents like these, thanks to some policies left over from the days of the Dark Lord, as you know. France has no such nonsense because being part Veela isn't an abnormal thing there. They're accepted like regular wizards. If I were to be sent to St Mungo's now, however slim the chances are, Robards will have them Obliviated. My parents have had to do it themselves if we couldn't get our personal healer to us in time."
She couldn't blame him for that; no witch or wizard that she knew of would risk their wand.
"Can't say I blame you for that. The idea of them taking your wand away leaves me feeling ill at ease."
"There's no reason to worry about it. Should anything happen, we can get from here to one of my family's estates in France in a snap. Actually, we could probably have this whole house packed and be gone by the time the Ministry could get the wards down on this place." He looked thoughtful, as if weighing the different variables of the scenario. "By the way, I suppose this is a good time to tell you I have blood wards up, and I would like to add you to that set if you still want to make this place home."
"What's involved?" she asked, eyebrow quirked.
"Not much. I just need some of your blood to mix it with some of mine in a potion and add it to the foundation and the ley lines of the estate in a small ritual."
She shrugged her acquiescence; it would be interesting to see.
"Now, you said you had some things you had to confess as well." His head tilted as he studied her.
She slid her hands down his chest to toy with one of the buttons on his shirt, her eyes glued to it as she assembled her thoughts. Before he could interrupt, she began to speak.
"During our very first encounter, when I was leaving the gala in a panic attack and you grabbed me from behind, I couldn't figure out why I hadn't cursed you six ways to Sunday. I couldn't see you, couldn't identify you by the feel of your body or by your scent. The only person I knew who could do that with impunity is Harry, and that's only because we spent so long on the run with one another through the winter." She worried her lip with her teeth. She'd read about Veela jealousy before and wondered how true that aspect was, hoping that his reactions to Harry didn't stem from jealousy. "Magic isn't my only weapon either; I can do basic self defense tactics as well. If you'd been perceived as a threat, it would have been nothing for me to put you on the ground but you weren't. You were able to hold me tight and bring me back to rationality, and for the first time in years I felt safe, like I was where I was supposed to be. Every time after that when I was close to you not only did I feel safe, it was like something inside of me had found Due North again and it was pointing directly to you, and I could never figure out why."
"Now you know."
She dipped her head once before they met in a melding of mouths.
"I hate to interrupt," a voice called out from the fireplace, and Hermione found herself suddenly reclined on the couch, covered by Draco who had his wand out and pointed menacingly.
"Harry? Seriously? Today of all days?" she demanded when it connected in her brain that her best friend was coming through the Floo in full Auror regalia. Draco lowered his arm, reholstering his wand as he sat back up and pulled her with him.
Hermione straightened her clothes as Harry eyed her speculatively before shifting his focus to Draco who was sitting with his legs crossed at the knee as if Harry came over every day uninvited.
Draco's hand curled at her waist and nudged her until she moved over and was leaning against his side.
"Finally tell her, did you then?" Harry asked with a cocked brow.
Draco rolled his eyes and fixed a sneer on his face. "I don't see how that's any business of yours."
The other man shrugged. "Just curious, Malfoy. She's practically my sister. Anything involving her is of high interest to me."
"Well she's my mate, and she's more important to me than she'll ever be to you," Draco bit out with a glare.
Harry held his hands up. "Easy, Malfoy. It's not a competition, and Hermione isn't pie. She can be important to both of us in different ways without a claim to more or less of her."
Draco just pulled her closer against his side, his expression not relenting. He never acted like this, and she speculated it was mostly due to the stress of the day, and so she said nothing on his behavior.
"What did you need, Harry?" Hermione broke in before Draco got even more worked up. She made a note to herself to have a discussion with Harry about not antagonizing him over her now that she was privy to his secret.
"Two things. We've found another magical location that's been defiled with Dark Magic. I'm not sure what they did but it feels like the aura of the place is weaker, almost like there's a void there. Also, I have to notify the two of you that Justin Finch-Fletchly is missing. He was last seen two days ago before he went off to meet an informant for a drink at some pub they use regularly," Harry said grimly.
Hermione sucked in a breath. She'd forgiven Justin but the idea that he had been kidnapped or worse left a lump in her throat the size of her fist. She swallowed it down as best she could. Draco squeezed her waist, and she took a deep breath.
"Does anyone have a list of his informants or anything? Any idea at all who could have taken him?" she asked.
The Auror department had come a long way in the last couple of years, and it would be harder than ever to take even a moderately talented Auror. Justin wasn't the best, but by no means was he the worst—solid middle of the pack when it came to abilities and talents.
Harry shook his head with tightly pressed lips. She read the anger there, and it reminded her of the days where he used to blame himself for every little thing that happened. Justin had been part of the D.A., and she knew that Harry, as his one time defense teacher, would hold himself responsible in some fashion.
"I hate to interrupt you on your day off, but I need you to go investigate the site while the area is still fresh," he said apologetically.
They both nodded, and Harry started back towards the fireplace, stopping to give his final request. "Report back to me when you're finished. Robards is in the middle of dealing with Justin's disappearance so he's using me in his stead to deal with the rest of the department."
"We will," Hermione assured him before he disappeared in a rush of green flames.
Before she could get up, Draco was turning her towards him.
"Hermione, from here on in, should we get in a fire fight, you let me take the brunt. Anything short of the killing curse I'll be able to take. Understand?" he asked, serious as she'd ever seen him.
She licked her lips, unease creeping along her spine as she tried to stall. He tilted his head down, eyes boring into hers.
"Yes," she said weakly.
"Promise?" he implored, knowing that just because she understood didn't mean she'd go through with it.
She huffed out a sigh. "I don't like it."
"I'm not asking you to like it; I'm asking you to spare my sanity in case we happen to find ourselves in the middle of something nasty. I can survive most anything, you on the other hand are still very delicate in comparison. Please, for me?"
She stared at him for a few moments before nodding her head in agreement.
"Thank you," he whispered before pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She relished the contact before pulling away. "Let's go get this over with. The sooner we go, the sooner we get back home."
She stole a quick kiss before heading to change.
Something prickled at the back of Hermione's mind, and she couldn't stop herself from speculating that Justin had been taken in retribution for freeing her from that trap. She couldn't explain why, but her thoughts kept circling back to the notion as if another part of her had subconsciously figured out another piece of the puzzle but was yet unable to pull it to the forefront of her mind to make sense of it.
Hermione came back in her uniform, arching an eyebrow at him. "Not going to change?"
"No need. I can do everything in this so there's no real point. It's not like showing up at the office in a three piece suit is going to be frowned upon."
"Let's go look at the map then."
She marched over to the fireplace to the head to the office, Draco just a step behind her.
See you all on Saturday!