Chapter 13

AN: Happy holigays y'all! Very sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. It's been a little bit a personal whirlwind for me lately, but I wanted to assure you all that I've got the rest of this story all written out and I'm just editing before I post each week. I won't leave any of you dear readers hanging! :)

Winter 1998, New York City

After such an overstimulating night out with Alexander, Hermione expected to be exhausted. But when they returned to the hotel, she was an animated as ever. Alexander bade them good night, both Hermione and Draco thanking him for the magical night out.

"Don't worry about ripping the dress, I can fix anything," he said to them before disappearing with a whoosh. Hermione made a slightly strangled sound but then coughed in attempts to regain her composure.

Draco held the door open for Hermione, who bounded through it, jabbering about details of her favorite acts and creatures. She was particularly fascinated with the cactus creature, which she remembered someone calling an "ent"—although the squat cactus didn't match any description Hermione could remember of ents.

"I should have brought more books," she lamented to Draco.

"I would suggest we go to bed, but it seems as if someone's just taken some Pepper Up," Draco said in a gentle teasing tone.

"Let's dance," Hermione suggested, bringing out her wand and flicking it towards a black box that Draco had not noticed before. It lit up and unfamiliar music began to emit from it. Hermione began to sway in place to the music; she began to hum along hesitantly as if she remembered it from long ago.

Dancing was something Draco was very well versed in, his mother had made sure of that. Dancing was something which his mother had told him could make or break him in high society. His father had never put much emphasis on dancing in particular, but his mother had once shared with Draco when he was young that it was dancing that had made her fall in love with his father.

After hearing that story, Draco had become more serious about dancing. He may have been a cold, snotty Slytherin, but it didn't mean that one day Young Draco didn't want to have the love his parents so evidently had. At the Yule Ball, he had tried to get Pansy to dance with him, but she only wanted to gossip with the other Slytherin girls in her brood about other girls and their outfit choices. There had been one moment when someone had mentioned how stylish Hermione had looked which had cause Pansy to snap at her classmate.

Hermione's eyes slipped closed as she did a little turn on her own, which was the perfect timing for Draco to step closer and capture her at the end of her turn. Her eyes shot open, the brown irises beaming with surprise. He brought their arms into form and began to find the tempo of the music with his feet. Hermione glided along with him perfectly, her smile widening with every step.

They danced until the end of the song, but another one came on. Again, something Draco didn't recognize. But it was easy to find the tempo and continue dancing Hermione around the room. He knew his mother would disapprove of the form, but Draco allowed his hand to slip further down Hermione's hip, clad in that tight black satin.

"I had hoped that when Alexander mentioned the club, that there would be dancing," Hermione said.

"You were disappointed?"

"Oh no," Hermione said. "I just—I don't know, that place was really something, wasn't it? I mean, my first time in America, I just kept to myself and barely saw anything."

"You mean anyone, other than Ryan?" Draco said, but then quickly looked as if he wished he could swallow his words at the sight of her face. He turned her quickly away from him.

"Anyone or anything," Hermione clarified crisply while her back was turned from him. They took a beat with each other, and Draco spun her back into him, resuming the tempo of the music. Hermione's face softened as she saw Draco's hair was a little ruffled from the night and that he had undone the top button of his shirt. "You know, the rings were a nice touch." Her eyes landed on her left hand which was holding Draco's shoulder. When she looked up, Draco was smiling at her.

"I like it when you take the lead."

"I worried it was too far," Hermione said in a small voice. "But I honestly, couldn't think of anything else in the moment."

"Fancy marrying me, then?" Draco joked.

Hermione scoffed loudly. "Hardly," she managed, while glancing down at the ring again. "Can you imagine?" Draco turned her and held her in place, their arms crossed over her body. The music softened, but Draco's hold on her tightened.

"I can," Draco said in a voice so small so she wouldn't hear. "I can imagine a lot of things with you."

—xxx—

Hermione stepped out of his touch, suddenly overwhelmed and unable to think properly. Draco had conjured rings for their fingers, but only after she had mentioned they were on their honeymoon. He had found her in the Room of Requirement and seduced her, but only after she had propositioned him first. There seemed to be a lot of things that he had taken her lead on in their time being involved.

Yet he had told her he needed her first. Only after Hermione had said she didn't want to be apart. But at the time that was driven out of her fear of flying. Need was a strong word. But it also made her swell with something she hadn't fathomed before, something she had never dared to daydream about when thinking about Ron. She wanted Draco, but she didn't feel as if she needed him. She had spent seven years in school feeling needed by Harry and Ron—for homework, for facts, for hours in the library, for being the pragmatic voice of reason. There were only a few times when Hermione had felt wanted during their years together.

But upon dissecting on Bald Head Island, Hermione had come to the conclusion that it was all right her most cherished friendships were forged by need, because the situation they had all found themselves in hadn't really allotted for anything else. They had been in dire straits, and there was no room for anything frivolous like want. Ron had made that rather clear in his abhorrent lack of wanting her. Even Harry, who had spent his fourth and fifth year pining after Cho had realized there was no time for want when so many lives were on the line.

Then there was the issue of who she wanted. Draco Malfoy. That was hard for her to reconcile, still. But maybe, Hermione thought, that would get easier. Spending the night out in public with him earlier had been easy, enjoyable—no one staring at them, no one casting judgements. Hermione knew that was because no one knew who they were here. Back home, if she tried to be like this with Draco in public, it would ruffle more than feathers.

She couldn't see past the pain being judged like that would inflict upon them and upon him. Having already suffered so much for his father's mistakes, she didn't want to be the cause of more harm to Draco. She wanted Draco, but she didn't want to hurt him. She wanted Draco, but did she want him even despite what people would think and say?

She had recognized the delight in her demeanor when telling Glen and Darrel their made-up story of falling in love. It had been fun to spin, but also fun to somehow come up with an alternative reality where they could be together. Hermione knew that if she thought about it too much, it would be depressing to see that anything like that would never be their reality. They had suffered so much that it was impossible for them to have any semblance of normality in their lives—either separately, but most importantly together.

But when the light of the club had caught the shine of the ring he had charmed onto her finger, something about it made her falter. It had almost felt real for a moment. Something she had thought she wanted with another person for so long, Hermione now realized she could see with Draco. She seemed doomed to repeat the same patterns of desiring things she could never have. She could never have Ron, and she would never have Draco. At least not in any permanent way.

Yet, for the time being, perhaps she could still have him in other ways she wanted. Was that all they could ever have—great shagging? Hermione felt like she was finding things to complain about. Maybe if she just focused on the short term with Draco, and the sex. Oh yes, she could focus on the sex. It was miraculous, the sex between them. And it had only gotten better. The things he did to her body; the things he made her feel. She could find herself come to need those things. But right now, she realized that she wanted them. Something about the complexity of their journey and emotional cadence of the last couple of days had Hermione riding high. Especially, mixed with the heady effects of being in America and Alexander's flashy presence.

"Hermione?" Draco said softly.

Hermione turned around—disoriented from her thoughts, her face still flushed with thoughts of them. The music had stopped, and the silence between them was suffocating. Hermione realized that there was so much they had not, could not, and would not be able to ever say to each other. There was so much left unsaid between them.

"S-sorry," she managed, trying to hide her face by busying her hands attempting to take her braided updo down.

"Let me help," Draco said, stepping forward.

For a moment, Hermione thought about telling him yet again that she didn't need his help. But then she realized she wanted it. She wanted him close to her. She dropped her hands as his came to her hair. His nimble fingers found the pins easily, releasing a wave of curls to her shoulders. Hermione was grateful neither of them had thought to use magic. Sometimes there was pleasure in the Muggle way, in the manual art of doing things. He ran his hand through her hair, which sent shivers down her spine.

Hermione grabbed for his forearm, making his hand stop at the nape of her neck. She inched closed to him, and his lips came crashing down onto hers almost instantly. She quickly lost her breath as he kissed her feverishly.

She clawed at the lapels of his jacket, pushing it across his shoulders and down his arms, while he was attempting to undo the buttons of her dress down her back. They halted in their tangle of appendages and desire. Draco pulled his lips away from Hermione's, his gray eyes piercing.

"You first," she said gruffly, tugging his jacket off, letting it unceremoniously fall to the floor. Hermione's hands began unbuttoning at the bottom of his shirt while Draco's worked from the top. They met at his chest, where Draco let her push the shirt away. She relished in dragging her fingertips lightly across his chest. He shivered at her touch, unable to keep himself from pulling her close to him roughly and bringing his lips to hers again.

"Now me," Hermione whispered in between kisses. Draco's hands resumed working on the buttons down her back. Once he got through a couple, Hermione felt his fingers brush against the skin of her back and it sent sparks through her. She shuddered in his embrace. His smile against her lips was wicked from the reaction he'd garnished out of her.

The movements on her buttons were in slow motion. Hermione wriggled in his embrace getting frustrated. She knew he was teasing her to get her even more worked up. It was a tactic he had used before, which often yielded amazing results, so she was not going to complain.

She decided to fight fire with fire, and her hands came to the waistband of his pants again. This time preoccupying themselves by fiddling with the buttons of his fly. Draco's hands paused on her back as did his lips on hers. Hermione ducked around his face to begin kissing his neck. She found the soft spot of his neck right below his left ear which made him go crazy. She hovered there, breathing heavily. Her hands still toying with the buttons, undoing them slowly and painfully. Draco moaned, perhaps a little disgruntled at having his own moves used against him.

Draco's fingers dug into her back where he had stopped unbuttoning. She finally finished at his fly, and the moment she sunk her hand through the waistband of his pants, she put her lips on his neck at his favorite spot and began sucking lightly. She felt him shudder with pleasure as her hand wrapped around him. His breath grew ragged and his fingertips dug into her hips still clad in the dress. Draco bowed his head forward and rested his forehead against hers—his clear eyes boring into hers.

"Hermione," he whispered gruffly, his breath tickling her. Then he pushed her hips hard away from him, causing her grip to fall.

Draco turned her around and began working on the buttons on her back again. When he was done, the gown slid off her shoulders and down her body surrounding her in a black pool. Hermione didn't dare turn around but glanced over her shoulder.

Draco took a step back but his eyes were glued to her. He had stepped out of his pants and now was completely naked, erect, and staring at her. For a split second, Hermione thought about being self-conscious. His skin was Roman marble. There didn't seem to be any imperfections, but Hermione knew better. After spending the entire semester up close and personal with Draco Malfoy and his body, she knew he had a tiny patch of freckles on the left side of his chest and the indentation of his clavicle was a sharp almost alien-like dip. There were faint scars on his chest from the Prince's Sectumsempra spell in their sixth year. Hermione had traced them with her fingertips once while Draco had nodded off, remember how upset she had been at Harry over something so trivial like who was top of Slughorn's Potions. (Even though she had been upset about similar things throughout their time at Hogwarts.) And how horrified Harry had been when he had rushed back demanding Ron's copy to hand over to Snape.

"I need you," Draco said sharply. There was that word again. Hermione wanted to hide from him, but the hunger in his gray eyes made something catch in her throat. He stalked closer to her and brushed her curls over her shoulder, peppering her shoulder with kisses, while his other hand wrapped around her chest. They stood like that for seconds or maybe minutes, but to Hermione it felt eternal. Every brush of Draco's lips on her hot skin was electrifying and comforting.

Slowly he pulled away from her and his fingers pulled down her undergarments and unhooked the clasps on her bra. He tossed the bra far away from them, and Hermione chuckled softly.

"I need to see you," Draco whispered through her hair from behind her, while his fingers gently guided her to turn around. Hermione turned in his embrace as he took a step back from her. His gaze dragged from her heeled feet up her legs to her hips over her stomach, hesitated on her breasts, and then came to meet her gaze.

Hermione kept herself from fidgeting. She'd never had anyone look at her the way Draco did. It was as if he was soaking her in, memorizing her, storing the image away as if preparing for a long absence or hibernation. She couldn't wait anymore.

She stepped forward, her hands framing his strong jawline to bring his lips to hers. Their bodies collided, and his hands landed strong on her hot skin. Her hands slid into his hair and gripped it hard. Draco shuddered and bit her shoulder a little hard. Hermione yipped, and Draco lushly planted a kiss on the bite.

While he was distracting her with more kisses, Draco's hand meandered down Hermione's body, and she was surprised when his fingers dipped into her. Her breath hitched. Slowly Draco dragged his other hand around her body and down her leg, to grip it behind her knee and bring her leg up to wrap around his waist. Hermione instinctually moved her hands to behind his neck and braced herself. Draco picked her up easily, his fingers gripping the plumpness of her rear. Her legs wrapped around him opened her up perfectly.

A second of clumsiness passed, but then Draco slid into Hermione. They both inhaled sharply, and for a moment they remained still against each other. She locked eyes with him, his gray pools focused. Then as if on cue they both began to move with each other, eyes still locked. A moan escaped Hermione's lips, but Draco caught them with his. His nose roughly bumping against hers with their vigorous movement.

His grip was almost painful, but Hermione was so overcome with immense pleasure that it was easily lost in the sea of her wanton. Her eyes slipped closed as she felt her excitement mounting, building with each thrust to the precipice which maybe they would tumble down together. Or maybe it would just be her, and then Draco would pull her up again.

Hermione was close, both of them pounding and panting. She clenched her jaw as she came—the gray color of Draco's eyes enveloping her in a velvet wave. Her focus on her rhythm slipped and she nearly bumped her forehead against Draco's.

They shared a small chuckle, and Draco took his opportunity to kiss her passionately. He walked a couple of steps as they kissed. Draco's hands moved from her arse to her back and helped lower her onto a long plush bench at the end of their bed. The shift stirred another pulsing wave in Hermione, and she shuddered with delight. Draco smirked, but before she could call him out for being a pompous prat her breath hitched as he quickly began pulling and pushing himself out of her again. His hands were braced on the bench on either side of Hermione's head, and she could see the muscles in his forearms tensed and taut. Her eyes traveled up his arms, to his neck, and around his face. His jaw was clenched, his brows furrowed with concentration, but then they locked eyes and Draco smiled.

"Why. Are. You. Grinning?" Hermione managed to say between ragged breaths.

"No reason," Draco said, somehow not out of breath.

"Oh. Really?"

"No reason—"

"OhmyGodric!" Hermione yelped as her second orgasm caught her completely off guard. She resisted the urge to let her eyes slip closed, because Draco was watching her, his smirk wide across his face.

The pulses radiated from between Hermione's legs, paralyzing her with the pleasure. But the smirk on Draco's face made Hermione playfully indignant. She tightened around him, enjoying the pleasurable shock that washed over his face.

A little "oh" slipped from his lips as Hermione tightened around him again. Now it was Hermione's turn to smirk.

"You clever little minx."

"Who, me?" She tightened again around him, and his shoulder buckled slightly, bringing their bodies closer. Hermione arched up and stole a passionate kiss. She began moving her hips gently underneath Draco's while they kissed. Her hands travelled the planes of his back, landing in his cropped hair and pulling his head back.

"Fuck," Draco said in a clipped tone.

"Too hard?" Hermione said quickly releasing her grip.

"Oh no, I liked it," Draco said. "Do it again."

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Asking," Draco said while dipping his head closer as if enticing Hermione to weave her fingers back into his hair.

"Pull me up."

Draco wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled Hermione's body close to his while she wrapped her legs around his waist. Draco stood up from the bench, Hermione clutching to his front.

"Now where?" Draco asked.

"Bed."

Draco sat on the end of the bed; Hermione perched on his lap. They were still entwined, and her hands slowly glided up his forearms, making their way to the short hairs on the back of his head. She gripped his head gently at first, watching his eyes light up, his want for her to take control mounting.

Draco's hands were running up and down Hermione's back. He bowed his head forward to capture one of Hermione's nipples in his hot mouth. She allowed him to loll around for a moment, edging on the start to her third orgasm. Suddenly, Hermione jerked her hand back, her grip in Draco's hair tight. He groaned, his eyes wide at her.

"Oh," Draco said as they stared at each other for a while. Then Hermione took both of her hands and pushed Draco to the bed by his shoulders roughly. Draco's smile vanished and instead he looked quite serious. Maybe a little too roughly.

"Erm, sorry about that," Hermione said hastily, pulling him back up from the bed.

"Don't be," Draco said in a strained low voice. He took her hands and planted them on his shoulders again. "Do it again."

Hermione looked down at him curiously. "Again?"

"Harder."

"Harder?"

"Yes."

Hermione paused for a moment, fiddled with the placement of her hands on his shoulders, and then shoved him down onto the bed.

"Fuck," Draco said gruffly.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Not at all." Draco's voice was deep and low. It was startling to Hermione how serious he was being. They had been so playful earlier. Hermione looked down at him questioningly. His gray eyes bored into hers, narrowed slightly, and then he said, "Slap me."

"What?"

"Slap me," Draco repeated.

"You want me to slap you?"

"I want you to slap me."

"But why?"

"Just to try something new," Draco said. "Maybe we'll like it. Plus, I know you already have it in you." Draco smirked, wiggling his nose at her. "Unless you've lost some of your nerve from third year."

Hermione bristled. For a moment, she considered verbally retorting. He'd be expecting that. They always had good verbal sparring. Instead, she decided to catch him off guard.

—xxx—

Hermione's hand came out of nowhere, slapping his right cheek. The sting radiated across his face and down his neck. His grip on her hips tightened. Draco's excitement shifted in a very palpable way between them. Hermione's face was full of gentle concern which she was attempting to mask with hardness. She was playing the part for him.

"Hermione," Draco said in a careful tone. Her eyes shifted slightly, as if she was worried he was going to reprimand her. "Fuck me."

She sighed, exasperated. "What do you think we've been doing?"

Draco smiled up at her. The curls of her hair framed her face and tumbled around her freckled shoulders. "I want you to take control. I want you to be rough. I want you to boss me around."

"Don't call me bossy," Hermione huffed, instinctually pulling back from him.

"I didn't call you bossy. I want you to be the boss."

Hermione searched his eyes for a moment before nodding. "Oh, all right then." Her eyes narrowed, and she shifted on Draco's lap. His concentration waivered as he relished the feel of her. It took everything in Draco's self-control not to roll them over and begin fucking her. He waited for her to make the move. He wanted her to be in control. He wanted to give himself over to someone. No, not just someone. To her. He wanted Hermione to take him, to want him.

She began moving her hips up and down on his lap, using his shoulders for support. Her grip was strong, but not too tight. As if sensing his need, her grip tightened, but her movements were still soft and slow. It was a juxtaposition between the two movements that caught Draco off guard. He had anticipated everything to be rough and hard, but Hermione was never rough or hard. She was soft and warm and inviting and careful. That didn't mean she couldn't be brazen and brave, for she often was. She was brazen and brave by just sleeping with Draco. Salazar, she was brazen and brave for even talking to him, after all the shit he pulled in their youth.

For the third time, Hermione shoved Draco by the shoulders back onto the bed, this time very roughly. The softness of the bed enveloped him as he noticed the hard feeling the heels of her hands had left on his shoulders. Hermione continued to move slowly up and down on him, but her hands gripped his and brought them over his head, holding them there tightly by the wrists. The position brought Hermione's body closer to his, and he could feel her steady breathing through the rise of her breasts on his chest. She brought her mouth to his neck and began kissing the soft skin there. Draco's attention got fuzzy as the feeling of her lips and tongue on his neck, and his eyes slipped closed in pleasure.

Then the side of his face exploded in pain before he could even register Hermione's lips had left his skin. She had slapped him again, sharply. His eyes shot open, and Hermione was staring hard down at him, her hips still moving up and down in a slow and steady rhythm. Draco tried to cradle his cheek with a hand, but realized she was still pinning him down by the wrists with one of her hands. Draco knew he could overpower her. Not that she was weak, but because he had more muscle and knew his leverage.

"I sort of like this," Hermione said.

"Got some pent-up aggression against me, do you?" Draco said.

Hermione grinned. "Keep going?"

"Yes."

She bent over and began kissing his chest, nipping here and there. Then she took one of his nipples in her mouth, letting her teeth graze the peak.

"Salaaa-zar," Draco slurred as a sensation he had never experience pooled within him. He had a sudden need to finish. He knew a few quick jerks and it could be done. But he reminded himself he wasn't in control—Hermione was.

His eyes slipped closed as Hermione continued her pleasurable assault over him. But then he felt himself slip from her and he jerked his eyes open to see Hermione inching her hips up his torso.

Draco caught onto her idea rather quickly, adjusting his body under hers. She placed her shins over his forearms to pin him down.

"It'll be better with at least one hand," he said.

Hermione nodded almost reluctantly and released one of his arms. The pressure on his trapped forearm contrasted to the fluffiness of the bed around them. His free hand lightly traced the sticky skin her kneecap up to her thigh to find her slick and hot. Hermione moaned sharply, one of her hands landing hard on his chest to brace herself from behind. She began moving rapidly, setting the pace.

Within a minute, Hermione orgasmed, her short fingernails digging into his naked chest. Draco lolled his tongue around her while she shuddered. He gazed up her careened front, and for a moment Draco could have sworn she glowed with an aureola.

"Enough," Hermione said hastily and moved back from Draco's face quickly like she hadn't just gushed all over his tongue. She stood from the bed, bringing her hands up to fiddle with her hair. The movement elongated her body, allowing Draco to soak in every inch of it. She was glittering with a sheen of sweat, his eye traced her body for the map of places he had just touched.

She motioned to bring her hands back down, but Draco said, "Wait." He sat up from the bed, resting his elbows behind him.

Hermione froze. "Why?"

"You're perfect."

Hermione guffawed. "Draco, no one is perfect."

"In this moment, you are perfect to me." Hermione's eyes flittered around the room, avoiding Draco's gaze. Hesitantly, she brought her hands up to hair again, but the movements were artificial now, like she was on display and knew it because she was and she did. Draco smiled at the moment of awkwardness between them. Just two humans existing alongside each other being their flawed selves.

"Come here," Draco said gently. She approached the bed and stepped between Draco's open knees. He closed his knees so that they were gently touching as much of her hips as he could. "You are beautiful."

Hermione was silent for a beat, but then retorted, "Draco, you're ruining the mood."

"Not ruining, shifting."

"Shifting to what?"

To love, Draco wanted to say, but he found it stalled on his lips. He loved Hermione Granger. It was so evident now to him that he had loved her for some time shortly after they began having sex. The way he would cradle her in their sleep, the way his mind drifted to her when she wasn't around, the way his eye always seemed to find her in the crowded castle corridors. His conflicted feeling of not being good enough for her underlined how much he cared about her, how much he loved her.

For the first time in his life, Draco was willing to put someone else's needs before his own. Draco knew that was love.

But he couldn't tell her. Not like this. Even though she was the most beautiful person he'd ever had the pleasure of truly seeing. She'd unveiled herself to him, much to his initial surprise. Hermione was genuine in her actions. And for some reason this beautiful witch trusted him enough to show herself to him.

Draco brought one of her hands up to his lips and lightly kissed the top of it to avoid having to answer her. Her curious, almost accusatory, gaze softened at the touch of his lips.

"Did you know your body glows when you orgasm?"

Hermione laughed heartily. Draco couldn't tell if the accompanying flush in her face was from their previous activities or embarrassment at this statement.

She looked at him playfully when she said, "Well I wouldn't know what your body does when you orgasm, would I?"

Draco smiled. He'd all but forgotten about that. "Don't try to fool me, Hermione. You've been studying me for months."

Hermione guffawed at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her eyes. "You think?"

Draco pulled her by the hand towards the bed. "I know."

—xxx—

Hermione and Draco laid together in each other's embrace on the fluffy bed. He planted kisses on her skin while holding her gently, but the kisses were not those to heighten the mood. They were soft and kind and selfless. As his lips found her shoulder, her neck, her lips—it felt as if he was trying to give her something instead of taking something from her.

They spent their time embracing each other and the silence between them. Soon, Draco's eyes drifted shut and left Hermione to her thoughts. His arms slacked slightly around her as he fell into a deeper sleep. His breathing creating a rhythm for her own.

Hermione thought about the look of pure excitement in his gray orbs when she'd shoved him down on the bed. She remembered slapping him by Hagrid's hut in their third year. Draco's stupid cronies had done nothing, and Harry and Ron had been so surprised. It was as if all five of the boys hadn't expected her to be capable. She wondered how that young Draco had felt after that encounter—humiliated, scared? Certainly not the excitement he'd felt tonight.

Hermione and Draco didn't talk a lot about their shared past, especially not the later years. They hadn't spoken about anything in regards to Draco being branded or his encounter with Dumbledore or fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. To be honest, Hermione had been so dubious that Draco had been able to fix the Vanishing Cabinet and chocked it up to proof that fear was a good motivator. But after paying more attention to Draco during their lectures, it was evident he was a very gifted wizard. She wanted to know how he'd fixed the cabinet.

Hermione had kept her curiosity at bay, as to not drudge up things they were both trying to forget. Perhaps not forget, since she knew it was futile to attempt to forget all the pain and suffering, but perhaps trying to simply move past it, focus on the future instead of the past, forgive even if there was no understanding.

Besides, if Hermione poked around Draco's memories, he'd want to poke around hers. And even though the war was over, Hermione felt protective over her time with The Order and helping Harry hunt for Horcruxes.

Hermione paused in her thoughts here, feeling Draco's steady breath on her skin as they held each other closely. Was she perhaps not entirely convinced of Draco? What other reason could she have for not talking about these things with him? She wondered if another war came about, as with men they always do, which side would she find Draco on?

Draco shifted in his sleep and his embrace of her tightened. Something else tightened for Hermione—somewhere in her chest. She stared at Draco's relaxed face, the sharp angles now softened with sleep. Hermione thought about her want for this Draco and what her younger self would think seeing Hermione now. There had been so much to not like Draco for, but now somehow she'd absolved him of many of those things. Was it forgiveness or just blindness? If the former, how come Hermione was able to forgive Draco of all his trespasses against her, but not Ron for dating around while she was in another country?

Her and Ron had not even been exclusive. They'd never had the opportunity to have that talk, but in her heart, Hermione had believed them to be serious about each other. How could you suffer through so much together and not care seriously for each other?

Perhaps Ron's care had shifted to something like how Harry and Hermione felt about each other. Best friends, but closer, as if their shared trauma had somehow created an unbreakable link. Hermione imagined Harry to be her brother—not that she knew what having a sibling was like. And Hermione was positive that Harry's perception of siblings was somewhat spoiled having grown up with Dudley.

Could she think about Ron that way? Could she forget about her previous feelings for him and shift to friends? Did she even have room in her for those feelings anymore? She hadn't thought about them in a while. Perhaps her feelings were only present in the past.

If that was the case, then what the fuck was Hermione feeling now? And who was she feeling it for?

Hermione definitely wanted Draco. She wasn't going to deny that the secrecy was very much part of the fun. But the more time they spent together, it was harder to imagine a space that they couldn't share. Logically, she knew that they didn't have to be a secret. That had been evident at The Nightshade.

Alexander had even told Hermione that he was not surprised by their coupling, "Two good looking people like you? Like magnets to each other. You both reach for each other at the same time."

Hermione hadn't realized they did that. Was it born out of want or need that they reached out for each other? Draco was comforting in a way Hermione had not experienced before. Viktor had been interested but a little thick, and Hermione had been so caught off guard by his advances that she'd bumbled them. Ron was oblivious for so long, and then when it mattered completely selfish. Ryan had been safe, albeit a little boring, but his timing had been terrible.

She'd reacted poorly to Ryan in the embassy because seeing him reminded her that for a split second she'd been unfaithful to Ron. No matter that Ron had apparently been doing the same except tenfold. Interacting with Ryan had illuminated a gigantic neon sign pointing aggressively to Draco that read in large letters: UNFAITHFUL.

Did Hermione really feel like her relationship with Draco was some sort of act of unfaithfulness? Hermione certainly feared that would be regarded that way by Harry, Ron, even Ginny. That was what was so terrifying for Hermione about going public with her relationship with Draco. The disappointment on their faces was enough to petrify her. She was afraid of making her friends feel betrayed. After all they had survived, Hermione knew that none of them needed any more burdens.

And how could she ever relay to her friends the nature of her relationship with Draco when she didn't even fully understand it? And why would she risk the bonds forged by fire for a man she didn't truly know because they couldn't discuss the past?

Hermione tried to close her mind and relax her body. It had been a long day, and they needed to sleep before they were to return to England.

But what about my needs? Hermione thought before her eyes slipped closed.