They awoke the next morning in a tangle of limbs, with Hermione's hair trying to strangle them both, and with a sense that everything had changed between them. There was no pretending now that they weren't compatible, that this wasn't something they both wanted desperately… and had done for some time. Two very lonely people were now a pair of giddy lovers. True familiarity would come in time. For now, they just smiled sleepily at one another.
Draco ordered room service for breakfast and wrapped his 'little wife' as he had taken to calling her in a plush robe that had come with his room. They ate breakfast in bed, and then they settled in to do some reading. Draco was propped up against the headboard with Hermione between his knees. He read aloud to her from one of his magazines, a circular about English gardening that he had been perusing on their first outing together. He told her about the great garden at Oxford, and then small one he was planning. She picked out the flowers she liked best-tulips, hydrangeas, crocus, peonies, and English roses-and made it very clear that an aubergine would never grow in any garden of hers, as she loathed them deeply. Draco crossed his heart that the veg would all need her approval before being planted. His only requirement was that the window boxes on their hypothetical cottage be filled with daffodils ( narcissus ) for his mother.
Then, Hermione read to him for awhile from Persuasion , until he closed his eyes and started breathing shallowly, and then she read to herself in his arms.
The amazing thing about waking up together on December twenty-sixth was that things had not imploded between them. Christmas was over, and they had only grown closer.
Hermione agreed to a jaunt home mid-day; Draco had an errand to run ("I had better go to Gringotts while it's on my mind; just because Pansy never bore my name doesn't mean she wouldn't try to get at our vault!") which he felt he must make on his own. They decided, despite the lovely evening they had spent in the hotel together (and a long, luxurious morning in bed), that it was time for Draco to check out for good. He packed up his bags (a five-piece matching set of italian luggage-"Seriously, Draco-do you shop in Italy exclusively ?") and bid farewell to the room that had been his only sense of normalcy until Hermione.
It took fifteen minutes to coax Draco away from the front desk; he took the time to say farewell to every member of the staff who he had come to know during his stay, especially the concierge (Sheffield), who gave them his best wishes for their marriage. Draco shook the man's hand and promised he would never stay in another hotel whenever he was next in London.
"Remind me to send him a pair of tickets to something exciting," Draco whispered to Hermione as they excited via the revolving front door. "His wife loves theatre and I know he'd love to take her."
"Only if you take me, too," she said. "I could do with a night at the theatre or the ballet or something."
"Love to." He grinned. "What shall I do with a wife who enjoys such delightful things?"
"Spoil her rotten?" she suggested, smiling innocently.
"I'll see what I can do," he laughed, leaning down to kiss her.
They hailed a cab, packed their luggage into the boot, and bustled themselves off to Hermione's flat. Draco's luggage took up most of the kitchen and he apologized profusely, but she waved him off. Then, he left her alone to spend some quality time with Crookshanks, who had curled around Draco's ankles in reluctant acceptance of his new permanent housemate.
Meanwhile, Hermione sat down at the kitchen table with a piece of parchment and a quill. She had a letter to answer.
Arthur and Weasley Family ,
Thank you for your letter. I understand that it may be difficult to adjust your biases, especially when they have so long been fermented in the concrete definition of Us vs. Them. I had those same feelings to overcome and I know it takes work. All I ask is that you trust me to make decisions for myself that are good and logical. If any of you ever again make Draco or myself feel as we did on Christmas Eve, I will make a clean break. Do not underestimate me on this point. If you try to make me choose, I will not choose you.
That being said, we would be happy to join you again for another future event. We will be returning to Oxford after the first of the year, so let's try to make plans before then.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger, Lady Malfoy
She underlined the signature twice and took great delight in doing so. Perhaps it was petty but she felt she had earned the right to be petty. Her letter was succinct and clear. Make changes or lose her. Draco's owl flew off with the note tied around its leg. That was that.
...Until the Minister of Magic came through her floo an hour later.
Hermione sat sheepishly in her green wingback chair, while Harry settled onto the couch. He had on what would be considered his typical Minister robes, and then a strange flopped-over pointed hat that he seemed to be trying to get used to. He pulled it off as soon as he saw her. It took him a few moments to speak. When he did, he looked sorrowful.
"Arthur received your letter," he said, twisting his hat in his hands. "It was a good letter-maybe better than we deserved."
She didn't say anything, she just nodded, looking at the ground.
"Hermione, I… I am so sorry for what happened on Christmas Eve," he said quietly. "After the two of you left, our evening was rotten. Molly cried and cried. The twins got into a fight with Ron, Lavender stormed off and as far as I know, she hasn't spoken to him since. We have been agonizing over it." He scratched his chin. "Ginny more than anyone. She gave me a fair scolding herself, after crying into Charlie's shoulder." Harry looked up at the ceiling as if he was projecting the whole evening onto it. He sighed heavily. "What can I do… to make it up to you both?"
"'S alright," she murmured. Her heart hurt at the thought of them in turmoil, even if it did satisfy her hope that they felt real remorse.
"No, it isn't," he said. He looked down at his hands. "I should have advocated for you. I knew that you were in your right mind. I saw you together, hell I married you. And, I have personally worked with him. It was my failing."
Hermione smiled sadly and held out her hand to him. "Thank you, Harry." He squeezed her hand.
"I wanted to invite you both to my home tonight; the majority of the Weasley's will be there to have a bit of a Christmas do-over," he said. "No pressure, just time with us all together. Would you come?"
She nodded. "I may be sour about it for awhile, but I meant what I said in the letter. We will come."
"Good." Harry stood up and opened his arms to her. Hermione hugged him tightly. "We're all dressing formally, it's Ginny's idea. She wants to take you to Madame Malkins as a belated Christmas gift."
"Oh, that's too much," she said, looking up at him.
"Not at all. She will be here in about…" he looked at his watch, "twenty minutes, if you'll agree to it."
"I guess I will," she said. Harry smiled.
"Good, good. I'm assuming Draco has formal robes already."
"That is a very safe assumption," Hermione laughed. "I'm sure he has several."
"Wonderful," he said. "I'll see you tonight, Hermione."
Harry disappeared back into the fireplace and twenty minutes later, his wife came through. Ginny renewed Harry's apology and the two friends made up… more or less quickly when Ginny told her how she made Ron eat slugs, and Hermione confided that Draco had put her up for a night in The Waldorf (nevermind the details about the length of his stay). Ginny whisked Hermione off to Madame Malkins with the reassurance that they would only pick out something truly worthy of her.
An hour later, Hermione stood on a short pedestal while Madame Malkin herself draped a variety of fabrics over her and Ginny clapped for anything with a bit of shimmer.
"What color does Draco like you to wear?" Ginny asked eagerly.
"I don't think he has a preference," Hermione blushed. "He just likes… me. Besides, it's not up to him what I wear!" She flailed her arms and a piece of orange taffeta puddled on the ground. Madame Malkin sighed but took that as a sign that orange was not to be.
"That's what I like to hear," Ginny said. "What about that white raw silk with the silver flecks in it?"
Madame Malkin held up the fabric in question. "Uh… it's awfully bridal, isn't it?" Hermione said, turning to face Ginny, holding it up to her chin. "Do I even look good in white?"
"It sets off your hair quite nicely," Ginny shrugged. "What were you wearing when you did the deed ?"
"It sounds gross when you say it like that," Hermione wrinkled her nose. Ginny laughed.
"When you married that sexy blond cover-boy with a very nice arse, might I just say-"
"Gods, Ginny!" Hermione couldn't help but laugh and cover her face in embarrassment. "I didn't have time to think about it! Um. I wore those denim button-fly trousers and that red jumper I have that falls off one shoulder," Hermione said. "It was… sort of last minute."
"Well then, why not choose something that's a little bridal? What's wrong with that?"Ginny asked.
Hermione turned back to the mirror. It was lovely fabric… and she truly hadn't had a chance to even consider what to wear when she got married just a few short nights ago. If she had, she might've chosen something much like this. Especially in the style that Malkin was suggesting, a fitted knee-length dress with a gauzy overlay that would look quite floaty. Especially to someone so well dressed as Draco Malfoy.
She wondered if Draco had something that would match, but then… anything Draco might like would go well, she was certain. She hoped he would be stunned at the look of her. She had inspired many reactions from him, but she had yet to see him be truly gobsmacked. She could imagine it, though. His eyebrows would raise and his dimples would deepen as he smiled wider than ever. He would hold out his hands to her but be too afraid to touch her, really. He would say something sweet. She nodded.
"It will do," Hermione said.
"Yay!" Ginny clapped. "Charge it to the Minister's account, Madame Malkin. Let's get lunch!"
Ginny and Hermione walked out of Madame Malkin's with a box containing Hermione's new dress robes, satisfied that they had found the perfect look to properly perturb a Malfoy. Ginny treated her to lunch as well at a new little bistro just outside of Diagon Alley which was owned by wizards but largely patronized by muggles. It was the perfect place to catch up but still retain some anonymity.
That being said… the Minister of Magic's wife and the woman who was a celebrated war hero AND had lately been photographed snogging Draco Malfoy walking into a bistro together had quite the effect on the owners, who gave them the very best table in the back.
Ginny sat back and observed her best friend, who had the loveliest blush in her cheeks.
"I think he's good for you," Ginny said.
"It's so bizarre, Gin." Hermione stuffed a large forkful of pasta into her mouth.
"Yes, but he seems to be very kind to you. You've never had that before." Ginny shrugged. "Ron was never nice to you. He's an immature idiot who has a lot to learn about loving people."
"You're too severe on him," Hermione protested. "He's just… dealing with things poorly."
"Yes, well," Ginny said, sitting forward. "Lavender broke up with him yesterday."
"Poor Ron," Hermione said. "Is it very cruel for us to come tonight? I don't want to torture him."
"He's not invited tonight. He's not invited to join in any family event unless he can treat other people with some dignity. You should've heard the things he said to Draco… according to the twins it was horrid."
Hermione put her head in her hands. "Draco didn't tell me what he said, only that he tried."
"He didn't just try." Ginny touched her arm. "My mum spend a good hour reaming him out for it after you left."
Hermione sighed. "I hate this. I feel responsible."
"Don't you dare take any credit for his feelings," Ginny insisted. "If you get blame for anything at all, it's for forcing us to face the issues we've never dealt with." She rubbed Hermione's shoulder. "You loving someone like Malfoy-that is, someone who hasn't been given a proper chance-is not something to be ashamed of."
"I didn't say I love him," Hermione coughed.
Ginny grinned. "Don't you?" Hermione put her head down on her arms and gave an exasperated sigh. "You don't have to say it, but it doesn't mean that you don't."
"It's too early to tell," Hermione protested, muffled by her arms.
Ginny laughed. "No it isn't." Hermione glared at her. "It isn't! Love comes in phases, 'Mione. Maybe you're not in the deep-and-abiding kind of love yet, maybe you're just in the everything-is-a-little-foggy-except-you phase. And you're in phase two, let's say."
Hermione propped her head up on one hand. "I guess… I guess I'm in the… Marian Paroo phase."
"There were bells all around but I never heard them ringing?"
"'Til there was you," Hermione finished.
"If you're quoting 'The Music Man', it's love," Ginny laughed.
Hermione could not help but smile. "Fine."
"That's what I thought." Ginny finished her sandwich and paid for their meal. Hermione requested one last stop before they parted ways until dinner.
Hermione met Draco at the door to her flat that afternoon with a cup of tea and a smile. He gave her a gentle kiss.
"Hello darling," he said happily.
"I missed you," she said. "And… we have plans tonight."
"Do we?" He took the cup of tea from her and set his briefcase down on the kitchen table.
"Mmm. Harry has invited us to come over for a Christmas re-do." She leaned against the counter. "We have to dress formally, and Ronald will not be there."
"Aha… how did that come about?" He asked.
"I replied to the letter," she said softly. "And then… Harry came over. And Ginny bought me new robes and took me to lunch, so… I think everyone is feeling properly sorry, so…"
He cupped her cheek. "Do you want to go?" he asked. He leaned next to her and sipped his tea.
She nodded. "I can't waste my new robes… and they did seem to be quite sorry."
"I'm game, if you are." He bumped her hip with his. "I have something for you, though. Might boost your resolve. Would you like to see?"
"Sure," she said hesitantly, feeling for the small package in her jumper pocket. Draco set down his cup and opened his briefcase. He picked something up and closed it again. Then, he turned back to her. In his hands, he held a little blue velvet box. He popped it open. Hermione gasped.
"So," he began, breath wavering. "The band in the middle with the sapphire is the ring my mother mentioned, and the two bands around it are new. From me. Obviously," he laughed. He was nervous. "I had it made for you while I was out today. Nothing too garish-I know that you don't like anything big-but I hope you like it. It will fit you, I had it charmed to adjust for your finger. And I asked for sapphires to match my mother's ring because I figured you wouldn't like diamonds, given their ethics issues-"
Hermione launched herself at him and threw her arms around his neck. "Shhh. I love it. It's perfect." Her eyes were wet. She pulled back and kissed him. Draco pressed his forehead to hers and breathed out a sigh of relief.
"I'm so glad," He whispered. He took her left hand in his. "May I?" She nodded. Draco popped the ring out of the box and slipped it onto her ring finger. It was a bit snug over her second knuckle, but it was beautiful. She held out her hand and watched the blues glisten. It was indeed quite perfect.
"I have something for you, too, as it happens," she said. She pulled out the package in her pocket and handed it to him. It was the same sized box as the one he had pulled out for her, only it was black. He gave her a look of shock. "What can I say? Great minds…"
Draco opened the box. Inside was a silver band with a ring of celtic knot work through it. He allowed her to put it on his hand and then he laced their fingers together. "Well, well. My wife has tricks up her sleeve."
"We are more official, now," she laughed. "And I hope you have some formal robes that will go with silver and white."
"How about green?"
Hermione pressed her eyes shut in mock consternation. "So help me, they better be velvet…"
Draco laughed. "For you? What else would I wear?"
"Perfect. Tonight, we will go back into the throng of Weasley's with our finery, with these-" she held up their clasped hands, "and we will be true to ourselves."
He bore look of total amazement. "Hermione…" he stopped and swallowed hard. "I know it has only been a few days, but… I couldn't be happier. And, as such, I..." He shook his head. He couldn't make the words come out, but Hermione got the gist. She wrapped her arms around his waist.
"I know," she said softly. "I feel it too."
"We're lucky," he managed finally. She nodded.
"Yes, we are."