All my usual gratitude to LightofEvolution, In Dreams, Mcal, and to everyone of you wonderful readers. I have appreciated all of your reviews as well and look forward to your thoughts in the coming chapters!
Hermione finds Draco to be incredibly attentive on Friday and Saturday. He invites her to accompany him to both Muggle and Wizarding London, keeping her out quite late on Friday after she finished at the Ministry, then commandeering her entire afternoon and evening the next day. He is sweet and thoughtful, and, if it's possible, she might be even more smitten than she was before.
She tells Harry as much on Saturday, and he grimaces but makes no comment. She hopes that someday her easy friendship with her best friend will trump his distaste for the Slytherin, but, in the meantime, at least he is holding his peace.
On Sunday morning, Hermione is nervous and answers the door for an equally flustered Draco Malfoy. Perhaps it wouldn't be obvious to most people, but Hermione has spent enough time with him in the past months that she can see it. The set of his jaw, cool expression in his eyes… This is how he protects himself.
Inviting him in, she does a quick spin to ask if she looks alright. It tricks him into a smile.
"Digging for compliments, Granger?"
She huffs good-naturedly and denies it. "Not at all. I just want to look nice on your arm today."
He pretends to give her a very studious once over, frowning a little in concentration and his fingertips resting at his chin. His eyes rove her body down then back up before he steps forward and tilts her face up for a soft kiss. Her breath hitches as he looks down at her, expression serious, eyes smouldering, and leans in to whisper against her lips.
"It'll do."
Hermione laughs, all the tension in her snapping as she slaps him lightly on the shoulder. Draco answers her laughter with his own before pulling her back by her hand into his space.
"You look beautiful, as always," he amends, and she lets him kiss her, much deeper than before.
They are interrupted by a voice that sounds on the verge of gagging. "Really? You know, you have a room for that."
Pulling back but only feeling slightly embarrassed, Hermione lays her forehead on Draco's chest for a moment, then turns to face her friend.
Harry has one foot propped on a small table near the door, lacing a boot. Her father would certainly have something to say about his treatment of the woodwork. Shrugging off the thought, she takes in Harry's attire and asks, "Quidditch today?" She had sort of hoped he would be coming with her to the Weasleys. If nothing else, having at least one unsurprised person in the room sounds nice.
"At the Burrow," he explains to her relief, then pauses for a moment, looking conflicted. With a sigh, he turns his body to more fully face Draco's direction. "Malfoy, I could grab you a spare broom. We usually do a casual game when George and Bill can both be there."
Hermione can nearly feel Draco's pulse quicken, but he answers smoothly. "I'm sure you have your teams all lined out. Wouldn't want to intrude."
Hermione looks back at Harry and frowns when he looks relieved. She tips her head slightly to the side, giving him some serious pleading from her gaze. Try harder, she's thinking at him, knowing he's her closest thing to an ally today.
Harry closes his eyes hard once, then argues a little dispassionately, "No, no. Not at all. It's usually me and George and Ron on one team and Ginny, Bill, and Percy on the other. But Perce hates it. He'd be grateful if you took his place, I'm sure."
With further pleading from Hermione's eyes and Draco's quiet non answer, Harry sighs yet again and adds. "Really. You'd be doing Percy a favor. Ginny and Bill as well, for that matter."
Hermione giggles at that, quite certain that at least Percy's gratitude would be sincere, if not the whole team's. She looks over at Draco to find his mouth in a thin line and traces her fingertips down his jaw until he looks at her. "You should play," she coaxes. "You're an excellent flyer. Careful, or you'll get rusty," she adds, teasing, and he finally cracks a grin.
"Alright then, Potter. But I'll get my own broom, thanks." They sneer at each other, but Hermione will take the entire exchange as a win.
It takes Draco barely a moment to return to Wiltshire and retrieve his broom, that familiar sense of belonging washing over him. He luxuriates in it for only a moment, hoping not to be delayed. Unfortunately, even without Pipsy meddling, Narcissa manages to catch him in the act.
"Draco, darling, I didn't know you were home."
Quidditch pads on his elbows and knees and a broom in his fist, it's pretty obvious he has no intentions to stay that way, but he feels the need to answer politely. "Just on my way out, Mother."
"Yes, I see," she answers with pursed lips. "Are you... seeing Theo?"
Thinking it's at least possible that Theo would accompany Potter to the Weasley home, therefore it's not a complete fabrication, he nods at her and answers vaguely. "A few of the old Hogwarts players," he says, also truthfully, but certainly implying they would have played on his House team.
"That's lovely then." She looks oddly disappointed. Draco sighs, knowing what she wants but asking anyway.
"Would you like to schedule tea one day this coming week?"
She brightens almost instantly, smile radiant, and Draco is loathe to admit it feels a little good to do something right by the woman. "Tuesday, I was thinking. It will be so lovely to catch up with you. I'll make sure Lucius is otherwise occupied. Just you, me, and Dahlia. And Pansy, of course."
"Wait. What do you mean 'Pansy'?"
"Oh, well, I let Dahlia know we could get together for tea, but that I simply had to check with your schedule first. She understands how busy you must be, dear, now that you are Head of House."
Draco levels her with a look, letting the quiet blanket across them like a shroud. Finally, he delivers a very even, "Matter of fact, I am not available Tuesday after all. I will have to owl you details. Apologies." He turns to stride away, but of course he can never have the last word with his mother.
"Draco, be reasonable. You must reconnect with society. If not the Parkinsons, perhaps the Greengrass ladies?"
He stops, years of breeding making him incapable of walking away from his mother while she is still speaking. "Mother, was I not clear in regards to my intentions for Miss Granger?"
"Of course, darling, I know. That doesn't mean you can't mend some bridges, as it were. Alliances come and go, my dragon. If you and Miss Granger were to falter, would it not be better to have... options?"
"Hermione is not an 'alliance'. And if you are so quick to mend bridges, perhaps Signora Zabini and Blaise would like to visit instead."
She wrinkles her nose in distaste. "Hardly the type of alliances I meant," she comments, somewhat rude in that she nearly mutters the reply.
Draco tilts his head mockingly. "Oh? Because I couldn't produce an heir with Blaise? Or because his mother is a blood traitor?" His voice is all innocence, and Narcissa narrows her eyes, unimpressed.
"Perhaps then," she says dangerously, "you would instead like to bring Miss Granger to the Manor. It's only proper your mother meet her officially."
It's a standoff. Draco has pushed as far as he can, and if he doesn't give his mother something, throw her some proverbial bone, she might find her way to interfering once again. Not to mention, he has been adamant that Hermione is the singular important witch in his life. All but officially his intended. There is no reason not to agree to the request without admitting their relationship would struggle long term.
"Very well. I'll make arrangements. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be needed on the pitch."
"Of course, dear," she agrees, all smiles. "Do give Theo my best. And all your teammates."
He catches her smirk as he turns the corner. He would swear she's a fucking seer.
When he makes it back to Grimmauld, Hermione is waiting but explains that Potter has gone on ahead.
"He didn't want to chaperone?" Draco sneers, quite happy the tosser is gone.
"I'm fairly certain Harry knows I don't need a minder and knows better than to try." She gestures to the broom in his hand. "Ready?"
"Not even a little," he answers with a grimace, but she only laughs it off.
The Weasley family still resides in their ramshackle excuse for a house in Ottery St. Catchpole, regardless that Arthur Weasley, a hero of the war, is now somewhat of an important person at the Ministry. Draco is positive they could afford better and can't imagine why they would choose to live this way.
He finds out soon enough; it's because they like to live in absolute bedlam.
"Oh wonderful, you've made it!" Molly Weasley answers the door herself. Draco supposes it was too much to ask that a house elf might greet them, a buffer before being thrown in the fire.
Then again, at least it wasn't the youngest son.
"Hi, Molly," Hermione greets and steps forward to kiss her cheek. "Thank you for inviting us."
"Pish. You say that as if I've not been begging you for weeks." The woman waggles her finger at Hermione. "Don't think it escaped my attention I had to use poor Draco to get to you."
Poor Draco? Merlin, this is the strangest interaction, and he hasn't even said a word.
"Missus Weasley," he starts, showing the bottle of wine he's brought, when he is immediately interrupted.
"Molly, dear. You may call me Molly. I would say you can call me 'Mum', nearly everyone here does, but I'm not sure Narcissa Malfoy would much care for that." She says it terse and quick, and Draco can't tell if it's meant to be a joke, so he just nods along.
"Molly, then. Thank you for having me. I know my family's relationship with yours has been contentious-"
"Contentious!" With a laugh, she waves them inside, turning to bustle back toward the kitchen, wine clutched in her hand. "Yes, I can say it has, at that. Well, come in, settle yourselves. I'll just let this breathe, shall I?"
Then she's gone, and Draco takes in the next phase of insanity.
Through the kitchen doorway, he can see pots being stirred by spoons, dishes dunking themselves into soapy water, knives floating in mid-air as they slice at various vegetables, and glasses levitating in a line to take their turn with the pitcher filling them up. The matriarch ducks beneath a knife as she enters, then the door closes behind her.
The room in which they are standing isn't much better. A couple of random red-headed wizards are talking animatedly, one showing the other something that looks very much like a knife made out of a single dragon tooth. The father, Arthur Weasley, is showing Potter some strange piece of metal with various runes that light and flash. It makes noises, chirping and buzzing, as the man talks over it, asking questions with uncaged excitement. Draco hears Potter say something about a 'game' but has no idea how one would play such a thing.
The youngest Weasley, Ginevra, is tossing a Quaffle in the air, full Quidditch leathers at the ready, when she spies them. "Well, it's about bloody time! Have to wait for Draco, they said. Well, he's here, let's get on with it!"
It's just one more noise amongst the cacophony, but everyone seems to take notice. All eyes are now on Draco, and he has no idea how to react. He straightens his back, holding himself tall and proud.
One of the older sons, Bill, he would suppose, stands up and hands the dragon tooth back to the other one. Draco notices the witch that had been blocked from view. The Veela. He recalls her from her time visiting Hogwarts years before but had forgotten that she had married into the family.
The oldest son approaches and looks at Draco with a rather even expression. "I hear you'll be with me and Ginny today."
At Draco's nod, the man's face cracks into a grin. "Thank Circe, then. I'll keep, you can chase. Usually we make Perce man the rings. It's really as much as he can handle," he whispers as an aside. "But I prefer it, myself."
With a slap to Draco's shoulder, Bill starts to lead him outside. "Come on then, let's beat the Chosen One for once. Little git has a big enough head as it is."
Draco looks back to Hermione to find her smiling, happy in a way that still makes him proud to be a part of. She tips her head at him, a taunt forming on her lips.
"Well, then? Let's see what you're made of, Malfoy."
She's radiant, the most beautiful witch on earth, and he forgets their audience and his circumstances when he tells her, "If we were playing with Seekers, I'd catch you a Snitch, my love."
But his witch isn't the swooning romantic type, and so she snorts and smacks his chest as she walks past. "Against Harry? You're lucky it's only a quick three on three."
Oh, she'll pay for that. Draco grins after her then quickly excuses himself from those left in the room, trailing after his lover like a familiar. Feels pretty normal to heel to her, no matter what form he's in.
XXXXXX
Draco has been playing Quidditch for over an hour and is currently smiling broadly at Bill after scoring yet another goal. It's been a well-played match, the addition of Draco evening out the teams. While Percy had always been a reluctant keeper, letting the Quaffle pass by more often than not, Bill thrives in the position.
Hermione is slightly concerned about Ron, his face a rather tight pinched expression after each score against him, glares often shot at Ginny's back. But Harry has also been on fire, sneaking past Bill on quite a few occasions in spite of his stellar efforts.
All in all, it's a good game, and is currently sitting at a 120 tie. Molly's insistent calling for dinner could not come at a better time, as far as Hermione is concerned. Let all her boys save face. It will make for a better situation if they do this again.
Draco swoops down, landing with grace and clutching his broom. He's grinning broadly, and she can't help but run at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You were brilliant," she whispers into his ear, before he promptly pulls her in for a hard and possessive kiss.
As they come apart, Hermione is jarred when Bill slaps Draco on the back as he walks by. "Well played, Malfoy. Hermione, you have to bring him next month. I'm completely spoiled off Perce, now."
Draco chuckles in answer, looking more relaxed than she's seen him since in years, outside of their private time together of course.
"Hungry?" she asks, pulling away but taking his hand to lead him inside.
"Famished. Worked up quite the appetite, I must say."
She starts to respond but is interrupted by George as he passes them. "Not as much as you work up with our Hermione, I'd wager." He winks at them both, and Hermione blushes down to her bones. George just laughs as he walks away.
Beside her, Draco's levity has waned. "I forgot you used to shag that one," he says. "Come to think of it," he continues in a low voice, "I'm not terribly fond of the idea that more than one wizard here has seen…" He gestures to her up and down, looking a little green.
Hermione doesn't really know how to respond to that. Draco's sexual experiences are generally witches she will never have to contend with. She would suppose it might be a bit strange that her surrogate family also contains two of her exes.
So, instead of arguing, she lifts up on her toes and kisses him softly. "There's no comparison," she answers finally, "between a sordid rebound and this." She kisses him again, more insistent, until she feels his hands burrow into her curls as he holds her head in place.
"I love you," he says as he pulls away. She hums and answers back the same, a contented smile on her face.
"And I'm more handsome, right?" he asks conspiratorially, digging for reassurance under the guise of humour.
"Infinitely," she agrees, and they continue toward the Burrow, arms wrapped around each other.
Inside, the family is taking their places at the table. In light of events, Hermione's usual seat between Harry and Ron had been moved to Harry's other side. Today, they have shifted Bill and Fleur to the other end of the table, making room for Draco at her side.
He holds out her chair for her as she sits. Ginny watches, her eyebrow raised, but doesn't comment. Ron turns his body in a very obvious way toward Lavender who has just arrived. Fleur gives Hermione a secret smile, gesturing with her eyes to Draco as if to congratulate Hermione on her catch.
Still flushed from their exchange outside, Hermione lets her curls curtain her cheeks as she wills them to cool, simultaneously loving Draco's attention but also feeling like the star of a show she never asked to join. She's certain she and her new lover will be the topic of after dinner drinks once they take their leave.
"So, Draco." Arthur Weasley has taken his seat at the head of the table and is watching a spoon scoop potato mash onto his plate. "What have you been up to since Hogwarts? I would have thought perhaps I'd see you around the Ministry. Hogwarts top students usually end up there in some capacity."
Hermione feels her lover stiffen a little. She holds his hand tightly, resting it against her thigh, in a show of support. She knows Arthur is as well-meaning as they come and hopes that Draco doesn't take offense to what a Slytherin might consider probing questions.
To her relief, he answers as politely as she thinks he might be capable. "I'm afraid politics have never held the interest for me my family might have wished. I'm taking a little time for myself before redirecting Malfoy Industries to new endeavors."
"Oh?" Arthur raises his brow. "New fields entirely?"
The room is deadly quiet, all eyes on the exchange. Unsure if it is curiosity or distrust, everyone seems to be waiting to hear Draco's plans.
He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. It seems he noticed the attention as well. "I'm thinking of investing in some Muggle interests."
Jaws drop and breaths are held. Hermione, though, having heard this mentioned in passing, beams at him with pride. She turns to Arthur, hoping to make the conversation a bit less tense, to coax others around the table into either joining or moving on with their own affairs. "I've suggested he look to technologies. Some very exciting changes are happening right now with information and communication."
It's enough. The tension breaks, and Percy asks what sort of changes, to which Hermione is happy to respond. Molly questions if Bill is trying to have a bit of potato with his gravy, the way he drowns it so. Ron and Harry end up embroiled in a debate over the Cannons versus the Kestrels upcoming match, George lending his two Knuts that it's irrelevant because Montrose will take either of them easily the following week.
Hermione couldn't be happier and is horrified to feel her eyes prick. She lowers her gaze to her plate, willing it away.
As Draco breaks off from conversation, allowing Arthur and Percy to continue on with Ministry regulation, he dips his head toward her, asking low, "You alright, Granger?"
She looks up, taking in the concern on his face, and it's almost her undoing. She sniffles, but leans over to lay her lips on his cheek gently. "I'm good," she says then glances around the table, taking in the relaxed and smiling faces. Looking back to Draco, she threads their fingers together right on top of the table where anyone can see, feeling proud of him and proud of them.
She takes a shuddering breath, the tears finally losing a battle with her will as she steadies herself and says again with emphasis, "I'm really quite good."
He smiles and lifts her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it with purpose, eyes still on hers. "Me too."
See? Everything is going great. I don't know what you're all worried about.. :P