This chapter includes descriptions of racist experiences I had when I was in elementary school. It's only a couple of the experiences I had, but 1 is too many. This will be triggering for my fellow mixed and Black readers. The second story of what happened to me, I mentioned him by name but I changed his name for legal/privacy reasons.
I also want to forewarn you that even though she shares this part of her past with Draco, it's not enough to mend their fences. The spiral is inevitable. I'm sorry.
TRIGGER: the word 'Negro' is referenced in a derogatory way because Hermione is sharing a piece of her past (that is also a piece of mine).
Please remember that I am Black and this was MY personal experience that happened to ME.
There is also a raunchy, triggering smut scene with a glimpse of toxic Draco. If it offends you, you better just turn back now.
Apricity – Chapter Thirty-Three
The Three Broomsticks was fairly full, with only two tables free for Draco and Hermione to choose from.
Most of the patrons were locals, but since it was Saturday, there were quite a few student groups smattered across the restaurant. The locals paid them no mind; the students watched them enter the building as though it were the most fascinating entrance they'd ever seen.
Were they wary of him for Hermione's sake? Were they just gossips who liked to watch things that surprised them or gave them something to talk about? Or were they only invested because Hermione had threatened to slap him in the Great Hall?
After learning what they'd learned in Trelawney's office, they really needed to figure out how they were going to navigate this. What had once already been a few twisting strings was now a tangled mass of countless chains that needed to be picked apart until it made sense.
As awkward as things were, Draco knew they needed to have this discussion. Trelawney had made it crystal clear that they were bonded and that they were hurtling toward the Consummation with all the speed of the Hogwarts Express. And now that they knew that his mother was the one who'd bonded them, he was certain that it was a strong, solid bond. Since she wasn't there to fix this, that meant that it was irreversible.
Before, that would have made him happy. Now, he just felt conflicted.
According to Theo, Hermione wanted to reverse the bond. That implied an "if possible." It wasn't possible. So, now what?
Why would he want to want someone who didn't want him?
Why, when he could simply . . . Turn his emotions off to her? When he could just choose to feel nothing when he looked into her eyes, and wipe his thoughts when he saw her hurting?
He couldn't stop thinking about the way it had felt to break down for the first time in front of Hermione. How it felt to let all of his walls down and finally just let her see the parts of himself that he'd been hiding.
What if her comfort had been false? What if compassion had taken over and spurred her to embrace him? To hold him while he wept? To kiss him the way she had?
Yes, he'd betrayed her. But hadn't she been betraying him all along? Leading him on to believe she might have changed her mind?
Trelawney had also said that though their bond had cracks, they could be mended. It was still strong. If they talked, maybe they could work through it. He wanted to work through it. Neither of them had done anything unforgivable.
He hoped.
Draco's hand lingered on Hermione's lower back as they followed the waitress to the table. His fingers hovered an inch or so away from her form, similar to the way his heart felt. Like there was a layer of space that had tricked them into thinking it was impenetrable.
They took their seats, ordered their food, and stared at each other.
Her eyes seemed guarded, closed off to him in a way they hadn't been before. It was different than the beginning of the year, when they simply didn't know one another. Different than the previous years, when they didn't like each other because of his bullying.
It was like she'd closed a door that had once been wide open.
"I suppose we shouldn't waste time mincing words," she said after a tense silence. "We're bonded. That's not debatable anymore. This means we need to discuss what we're going to do."
"All right." Draco leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, what do you wanna do?"
She picked up her napkin, folding it and refolding it into different shapes. Her gaze darted around the restaurant, settling on person after person. "I think we should make plans for our future."
Our.
"Okay. What did you have planned before this?"
Her gaze snapped to his for a moment and then away again. "You already know. I didn't have anything planned, remember?"
Oh, yes. That was right. Paris. The conversation at the pub table. She'd been overwhelmed by all of their questions about her plans for the future because she didn't know what she wanted to do.
For a moment, he forgot about how fucked up everything was.
"Well, I get access to the Malfoy family accounts either when I turn twenty-one or when I ask my father for early permissions. So, it's not as though you'd need to worry about a career in the financial sense. You could do something purely because you enjoy it."
She nodded, her lips twisting as she bit the inside of her cheek. Then, she frowned.
"Wait . . . If you don't have access now, then does that mean you don't have money?"
He pursed his lips. "I have some, but it's rationed to last me."
Her frown lines deepened. "You can't just ask your father?"
"I haven't spoken to him outside of today's visitation in . . ." He trailed off, realizing that what he was about to say would be a lie. He had spoken to him. He'd sent him that letter. The letter that had gotten him the response that showed him that his father wasn't doing well. The one that showed him that even though Lucius wasn't doing well, he'd forced himself to try just so he could help his son.
A violent, shuddering desire to burst into tears again crashed into him.
Draco shifted in his seat, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair. "I don't need to rely on my father for anything. If I can't learn how to survive on a normal amount of money, then I'll blow through the accounts without learning how to properly manage them. My father had the choice to help our family grow, and he chose the path of fear. I don't plan to do that."
She raised an eyebrow. "What will you do?"
Draco hadn't told anyone this before. He barely thought about his plans because they were so set into the stone of his foundation. He wanted to think it was nice to tell her, but this entire conversation was set against a backdrop of impending destruction.
They hadn't even approached the topic of his betrayal yet.
"Start a company of some sort," he said. "I'm taking Muggle Studies because I want to come up with some way to blend the magical and Muggle worlds." When he saw the look on her face, he held up a hand. "Don't freak out. I don't mean for Muggles to know about our world. I want to create a company that can do business with Muggle companies."
"What sort of business?" She began to tear absentmindedly at the napkin. "Law or advertising or . . . ?"
"I'm not sure yet," he said. "That's where I'm still thinking about it. I have plenty of money to take my time, though. As long as I figure something out before I die to make sure my children have something to take care of them."
The silence afterward was once again awkward.
"Draco . . ." She looked contrite. "I'm sorry, but I don't want children."
"Oh." He hadn't ever really thought about whether or not he wanted them. He had grown up assuming he'd someday have a child. But to hear Hermione flat-out tell him she wasn't interested, knowing they were going to be in each other's lives forever, it was a bit shocking. "Can I ask why?"
The napkin tore in half. "I just don't want them."
He studied her. There was a panic on her face that he recognized. The same sort of panic she had when she was facing food she didn't want to eat.
"Do you not want children . . ." he asked slowly, leaning forward a bit and lowering his voice. ". . . Or do you think they won't want you?"
Her gaze slammed into his again, wide and terrified. For a moment, her eyes looked glassy. Then, she blinked and looked away again.
"It's okay when women don't want children, Draco. We aren't broken just because we don't want them. Do you want children?"
"Well, I—" He cut himself off. "If I don't have children, the Malfoy line dies with me."
"Do you want them?"
". . . Not really. It's just what I'm expected to do."
"Then there you go."
The waitress appeared, floating their food over and setting it down before them. Hermione was staring at her pasta with a disturbed look, as though she already regretted it, so Draco thanked the waitress by himself. When the witch pranced off to another table, he looked at Hermione again.
Really looked at her.
She looked miserable.
"There's nothing wrong with not wanting children," he said, "but what's the real reason why you don't want them? This conversation is supposed to be about the future—our inevitable future. We need to discuss these things."
Hermione picked up her fork and swirled pasta around it until she finally spoke.
"I would be a horrific mother," she said. "I'm uncomfortable around children and I'm envious of them. I feel like I never got to have the picture-perfect childhood with friends and play dates and just . . ." She sighed and tipped her head back. Then, she looked at him and her eyes were sad. "It's hard to talk about."
"Talk about it anyway."
She hesitated. "It's hard to talk about it with you. Like, specifically."
Draco nodded slowly and took a bite of his food but said nothing.
Finally, she conceded.
"Before I came to Hogwarts, I wasn't exactly accepted. And please don't get angry when I tell you this, but . . . I've experienced a lot of bullying for my skin color and my hair. When I was a little girl, I went to Muggle primary school until I got my Hogwarts letter. I didn't have any friends. I hid in the Library because whenever I went outside during breaks, they'd say hurtful things about how my hair looked like a clown's. Or that I was ugly because I 'looked dirty.'"
Draco felt his heart beginning to sink in his chest.
She continued.
"When I was little, I was really extroverted. I tried again and again to make friends. I didn't seem to understand that the reason why everyone was so mean to me was because they didn't like me. When I was eight, I did manage to get invited to a girl's birthday party in my school, but when her mother found out who I was, she told her . . ."
Hermione stopped, her brows twitching together and her throat jumping. She set her fork down.
"She told the girl to tell me I couldn't come. When I asked her why, she said her mother told her not to tell me, but that it was because I was Black. She didn't . . . She thought I would steal from their home. I went home and asked my mother why she would say that, and she had to explain to me that it was something that she'd had to face, too. That there are people out there who make up their minds about us based upon years of prejudice, and that it's likely to never get better. That we just have to try our best to be strong."
Draco set his fork down, too. He felt his stomach churning.
"When I was ten," she said, voice soft, "I had a crush on a boy named Ross. I told him I fancied him and he told me that he could never fancy a—and I still feel confused by this—a 'spotted Negro.' I told the headmaster, and was made to stand there while Ross gave me a false apology with a smirk on his face. The headmaster forced me to say I forgave him. And then he forced me to give him a hug. I never told my mother about that one."
Draco didn't know how to process what she'd just told him.
"He made you give him a hug?"
She nodded. "Those are just the two experiences that really affected me the most. But it was common for me to be teased for my hair, especially because it was very short when I was growing up. Until it grew out, it was comical to them. There were a lot of things that happened to me growing up because we lived in a predominantly non-Black area."
"Why would I get angry at you for any of that?" He gave her a bewildered look. "They're your experiences."
"Because the few times I've told anyone about my experiences in the Muggle world, they get angry and offended. They think I'm accusing them of thinking the same way, when I'm just telling them what happened to me. They don't seem to understand."
"Were those people Muggles? Exactly. Hermione, I'm a wizard. We don't exist under the same thought processes as Muggles. Muggles are stupid and their brains aren't as developed as ours. They—"
Draco stopped himself. He wanted to be sick.
He'd bullied her for being a Muggle-born for years. For her hair and her blood status, which was as unchangeable as the color of her skin. How was that any different from being a Muggle and bullying her for her skin color? He'd already overlapped by bullying her for her hair texture when they were younger.
He felt like a horrid person. In fact, the feelings of self-loathing were so overwhelming that he couldn't finish his food.
She was owed an apology for way more than just betrayal.
"Muggles and the wizarding world aren't much different," Hermione said quietly, looking at her plate. "It's hard for me no matter where I go. Part of being Black means that I have to operate the rest of my life with the knowledge that I'll never be fully accepted by Muggles who don't look like me. Being half-white, I have to acknowledge that I will never be fully accepted by Muggles who do. And being Muggle-born, I have to accept that I'll never be fully accepted as a wizard. The struggle is overwhelming." She looked up at him. "I don't want to have a child that will have to go through what I've been through. There's nothing I could do as a mother to protect her from prejudice, racism, or purism. That's why I don't want to have children."
Draco sat back in his chair, one hand in his lap and the other with his wrist resting on the edge of the table. He took his time replying, trying to sort through his confusing emotions and the words he wanted to say. He didn't want to make it about himself, but he also wanted to make sure she knew that he regretted the nasty things he'd said to her while growing up.
This was the first time he felt like he might not be able to fix something for her.
"I apologize to you," he said, picking each word one-by-one the same way he'd picked those flowers for her earlier that week, "for everything that I said to you that made you feel different and out-of-place. I apologize for hurting you in that way. When you came to Hogwarts, it should have been your escape and instead, I turned it into a prison for you. You had nowhere to go to for solace from it, and that is my fault. I apologize for the way I treated you. There's no excuse for it, and I still apologize."
She held his gaze, biting her lower lip.
"I forgive you," she said. "Just like I forgave all of my past. Like I said, it's something I have to deal with for the rest of my life—something no apology will erase. I've got too much to worry about in the present, anyway."
And then she picked up her fork, speared some pasta, and took a bite. Then, as Draco was still reeling, she spoke.
"Can you live with never having children? This may not be something I ever change my mind about."
"I can," he said, nodding. As long as I can have you. "It's something I want, but not a dealbreaker."
"We're bonded. There's nothing that can be broken."
"Well . . . She said as long as the bond is forged in strength, then it can't break."
"And she said that ours was strong." Hermione shrugged and took another bite. "I don't think we have anything to worry about."
They shared a small fraction of a smile and ate in silence for a few minutes.
But in spite of this—in spite of the fact that he had said those words to her and they'd put that piece of the past behind them—they were by no means in a good place. They didn't have to be in a good place for Draco to respect her where her past traumas were concerned, that was for damn sure.
"Where would you want to live?" Hermione asked. "I don't think I could live in the Manor."
Draco thought for a moment. "I don't know if I could live in the Manor, either. I think I'd just pack all the important things up and turn it over to the Ministry as an artifact."
"Where, then?"
"I'm going to Japan for a year. Ryo got me an internship. I'll be working in their equivalent to the Department of Mysteries."
She looked surprised. "You are? Wow. Well, congratulations on the internship."
"Would you . . ." He picked at his food. "Would you go to Japan?"
She shrugged. "I mean, sure. I don't have any plans. I could go to Japan."
"Okay."
"All right."
"Okay."
Draco wondered if she could hear his heart pounding.
She would come to Japan with me?
"You know they have legendary cherry blossom blooms in the Spring, right?" she said, shattering the reverie and eating some more of her food. "I've always wanted to see them."
"Yeah?"
She nodded. "We could always take the year to explore the bond and figure out what we want to do for careers, and then pick somewhere else to live."
"Yeah."
That sounded like a compromise to him. Compromise was good.
This could work.
"Are you more partial to small houses orlarge ones?" he asked.
"I prefer a smaller house."
"I prefer a larger."
They exchanged glances, mutually agreeing in silence it wasn't as big of a deal as other things.
"Religion?" she asked.
"No. I'm a wizard. Religion is for Muggles who don't already know that everything exists at once."
She let out a laugh. "You're not wrong. But me, neither."
There was another lull. It felt like the most important topics had been talked about and like there was nothing else to discuss that couldn't be handled as the years went by.
Like they were trying to delay what came next.
"What are your views on blood purity?"
Draco coughed on the water that he'd been taking a drink of and set the cup down. "It's not clear?"
"I'd like to hear it, please."
He thought for a moment, remembering the words of wisdom that Ryo had imparted upon him. Blood status was not something he had the power to mind or not mind. Just like race.
He was not a god.
"I have no negative feelings about blood status whatsoever," he said, holding her gaze. "The viewpoints I held before the war were the result of my immaturity, my inability to make my own opinions and decisions differently from that of my parents, and my heartlessness. I'm not like that anymore."
"No doubt your father holds different opinions now, too," she said, her own words cautious as she took another bite. "He didn't seem to mind that it was me they had to bond you to. Or perhaps he's just learned to accept it."
"He may have thought we'd never find out, or that we'd ignore it."
"Lucius Malfoy condemning his son to a life of incomplete emptiness devoid of true love?" Hermione scoffed. "Sounds about right."
Draco didn't have it in him to respond.
Seeing his father had been difficult. Beyond difficult. In spite of the complicated relationship he had with him, he didn't want to see him suffer unnecessarily. He was in Azkaban for the rest of his life. His wife had died without him ever being able to say good-bye. His son hadn't responded to any of his letters.
And to top it off, the Azkaban guards barely fed him and were clearly ignoring the fact that his Cruciatus tremors had made it barely possible for him to write.
"We could always just . . . Ignore it," Hermione said.
"Ignore what?" he asked. "The bond?"
She nodded.
"And walk the rest of our lives feeling half-empty and devoid of warmth? Feeling like something's missing? Does that not sound like suffering to you?"
"Well." Her shoulders rose. "I just want you to know we have other options."
If he found out that Theo had been lying about what Hermione said, then she was it for him. If he found out it was true, then he didn't know how he would feel. The fact that the only person he had that he felt something for might not feel anything for him at all—the fact that the possibility of a family was on the horizon—made this ten thousand times harder.
"There are no other options, Hermione," he growled. "Not for me."
She started to say something else, but the waitress returned to ask them if they were ready to pay.
"No, actually," Hermione said with a disarming smile. "Can I order something else?"
Fuck.
He looked away as Hermione ordered another full meal, not knowing how to tell her not to do it. He wished he could convince her to just keep the food down. To be satisfied with one meal and have everything be fine. But he knew that wasn't possible.
It was a disturbing parallel to the date he'd watched of the Weaselbee's where she'd done this same thing. The Weaselbee had barely been able to look at her. Like the sight of her repulsed him on some base level.
Draco wasn't going to look away.
"I think it might be nice to travel," she said. "What do you think?"
"Once a year, or every holiday?"
She looked up at the ceiling. "Well, my family and I traveled once per year until I came here. Then they traveled without me while I was away. Now, they're . . . Well, you know."
He spoke quickly to detract from the sad look that passed across her face. "My family and I actually didn't travel much. My mother preferred to host. Family came to us until there was no family. Aside from that, she hosted galas, fundraisers, parties, and dinners."
Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Would I be expected to carry on that tradition?"
"Not if you didn't want to." He shrugged. "I wasn't much for parties and the like. I preferred the Library."
She perked up. "The Library?"
"Yeah, we have a Library. It's rather sizeable, actually." He drummed his fingers on the table. "We'd move its contents with us when we find a place to settle down, of course."
"Oh, but . . . It's so hard for me to focus on reading right now. It's like the words just blur together." She held a hand to her cheek, looking somewhat distant as she gazed at the restaurant patrons. "I'm not sure if I'd even be able to use a Library."
"You might by the time we make it there."
She frowned, appearing troubled. "What makes you think I will?"
Draco felt like she'd hit him with a Bludger. Now that she asked him, he didn't know. He just assumed she'd eventually get better. That she wouldn't be sick forever. That there would be a time here she could focus again.
He hadn't thought of the possibility that she didn't think the same.
The waitress brought the food and Draco watched Hermione eat it.
"Are you going to throw that up?" he asked in a low tone.
She gave him a pointed look. "I might. Why do you ask?"
His stomach twisted in circles and patterns. Was this his fault? Maybe he shouldn't have brought her here.
But Gods, he didn't know what he was doing.
"I told you to keep it to the castle," he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. "Our second time eating out since, and you immediately decide to break the rules?"
"That was before you forgot how to keep your mouth shut, Draco," she said icily, picking up her burger and taking a large bite out of it. Her cheeks puffed out from how big it was, which made her look infuriatingly cute with the way she'd pulled the top of her twists up into buns. "Now, I'm going to do whatever I want."
Well, it looked like they'd arrived.
This was it. This was the moment he'd been dreading. He really wished he'd smoked some weed before they'd left that day, but he'd been in too much of a rush that morning and nervous about what Trelawney was going to tell them.
But this moment had always been unavoidable. It had begun the moment he brought her the flowers and it ended now.
"Look," he started, already feeling like he was floundering in stormy waters. "I know I . . ."
Hermione merely stared at him, taking another bite of her burger. She looked unbothered, like she knew what he was going to say and was expecting him to do a poor job. She licked ketchup from the side of her thumb and then off of her lips.
Draco knew what he needed to say, but he didn't want to say it. He couldn't tell her everything. If she found out he'd not only told her secret to the Weaselbee, and then handed his memory of her memory over to Potter against her wishes?
She'd never forgive him.
"I made a mistake," he said, lowering his gaze to the tabletop. "I made a lot of mistakes, but I think that it wouldn't be right if I didn't apologize for the ones that matter the most."
"All right," she said around a mouthful of food. "What did you do?"
As if she didn't already know part of it.
He inhaled and on the exhale, he said, "I pushed Weasley down the stairs."
The pace of her chewing slowed. Her eyes opened wider.
"I pushed Weasley down the stairs and then I beat the fuck out of him at the bottom of the owlery." He leaned back in his seat, spreading his hands wide. "I'm sorry for it because you asked me not to. I tried really hard to resist—for a very long time—but we ran into each other in the stairwell and exchanged words. So . . . I'm sorry."
She swallowed and set her burger down. "Is the sarcasm supposed to be humorous?"
"No. It's not." Embarrassment flooded him with heat, but he forced his face to remain unchanged. "During that encounter is when I told him about Paris. I should not have done that. I used your painful memory for my own reasons, and that was wrong of me. I apologize for that, and I will do . . . Whatever it takes to make amends for it."
"What about me?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you think about how it would make me feel at all?"
"Of course I did," he breathed, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Of course I did, Hermione. It's because I was thinking of you that I wanted to hurt him. Again—there's no excuse for my actions, but I had to make him . . . I dunno. I wanted him to hurt even half as much as you. I wanted him to know he had a part to play."
"Even though I didn't want him to know that," she said flatly. "And I didn't want anyone to know it."
"Yeah."
She glared at him, her honey-brown eyes pinning him in place with a ferocity that was almost too intense to bear. There were several times that he wanted to look away, but he felt like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, swaying back and forth. If he looked away from her, he might lose his balance and fall forever.
"I'm very angry with you, Draco. And I'm hurt. Really hurt. You were the only person who knew, and I had barely become accustomed to the fact that you did. There's a lot of stuff I shared with you that I will never share with anyone else." She lowered her voice to a whisper, and it sounded as broken as the look in her eyes. "You washed me. You don't understand what that meant to me."
He couldn't stop himself. His arm stretched across the small table, his hand sliding past the plate. When he turned it until his palm faced upward, hiding his tattoos against the wood, he gave her the most apologetic look he could muster.
"I do understand," he murmured. "It meant just as much to me, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I don't care how long it takes for me to fix it, but I am telling you now that I'll do anything. As long as it takes. Even if you never forgive me."
She arched one eyebrow upward. "Even if it takes forever?"
"Until eternity."
Hermione placed her hand in his. "It may take that long. I'll let you know."
He closed his fingers over her own and his thumb rubbed the back of her hand. His brow furrowed in thought.
"Hermione, I want you to know that I'm gonna make a lot of mistakes. I'm going to make choices that are inevitably the wrong ones. But I need you to know that no matter how many mistakes I make, no matter how often they may hurt, I will always, always do my best to make it right. I will fix it."
"You're telling me you're going to hurt me. It sounds intentional." Her fingers curled and she held his hand. "Should I be scared?"
He searched her eyes.
"Probably. I am."
The waitress appeared. "Hi, guys! Am I interrupting?"
They let go of each other's hands and focused their attention on the waitress. As Hermione ordered an ice cream sundae for dessert, Draco found that there was still something nagging at his heart. Something that he wasn't sure if he should even address. Something that he desired an answer to.
"According to her, she can't wait for the chance to never see you again. She said the worst mistake she's ever made was thinking you were better than exactly who we all know you are."
Draco needed to know if it was true.
"Are you sure you want to eat the ice cream?" he asked when she was merrily sticking her spoon into it.
"Yeah." She nodded, bouncing excitedly in her seat when she took the first bite. "I always forget how good food is, I go so long restricting myself from it. And ice cream is great—it helps everything come up easier."
Draco clenched the hand of his that was in his lap into a fist. The emotions that rose up to the back of his throat when she spoke about her disorder so nonchalantly like this were too overwhelming. They eclipsed his mind with confusion.
How could she care so little about her life when he cared so fucking much?
"I'm gonna go use the loo," she said when the sundae was gone. She reached into her pocket and tossed some galleons onto the table. "For my dinner."
"You don't need to pay," he said, pushing them back towards her right as she was getting to her feet.
"You said you didn't have any money until—"
"I said it was rationed. That doesn't mean I don't dip into next month's from time to time." He pulled his own money pouch out. "Go on and take your galleons back."
"Draco," she said.
"Hm?" He counted the coins.
"Draco."
He looked up at her.
She was smiling.
"Once we consummate the bond, we're going to be together. We might as well get used to sharing things now. My money is your money."
She walked away. He decided to leave her galleons as the gratuity.
He didn't know how they'd forgotten one of the most important parts of the bond. They'd just spent the past hour discussing everything that came after the bond, when they should have been discussing the bond itself.
But how could they discuss that—how could they discuss any of this—if there was no fucking guarantee that she would be alive to see the bond through? How could they possibly make plans that would lead them into any sort of life together if she was going to purge multiple times a day, even in restaurant bathrooms?
And he was just gonna let her?
The fact of the matter was a binary star bond was a marriage bond. That meant that when they consummated it, they would effectively be married. Yes, they'd be only eighteen. But that didn't challenge the validity. It didn't challenge the strength of his feelings.
If he was going to be her husband, then he needed to step up and be her husband.
He left the galleons on the table and stood up, heading to the long hallway across the restaurant that led to the loos. The boisterous noise of the patrons faded until it was muffled. There were two loos and they were both one-person restrooms. One was open and unoccupied.
That left only one option.
He knocked. "Hermione? You in there?"
After a second of tense, heart-pounding silence, he heard her voice. It was thin, high-pitched, and reedy. Strained.
She was purging.
"Y-Yes?"
"Open the door."
She coughed. "What?"
"Open it." He placed one hand on either side of the door frame and leaned against it, dropping his head to look at the floor.
"Um—just a s-second!"
Draco glanced down the hall, seeing people milling by. No one looked down the hall. When he turned his head back to the door, it was open. She peeked out at him through the crack, her face dripping with water.
"Sorry," she said with a weak, breathless voice. "I cleaned myself up, so it took a second."
"Let me in. Quick—before anyone sees."
"Okay," she whispered, stepping aside and holding the door open enough for him to slip inside.
To his surprise, the entire room smelled of flowers. There were quite a few pots of them hanging all over the ceiling. It was bizarre for the Three Broomsticks, but it was a convenience that they needed.
There was vomit in the loo.
"Gods, I'm glad you're here," she said, her voice hoarse as she walked back to the loo. She gathered up the twists that were hanging down her back. "My hair is really hard to hold back. Plus my stomach is doing that thing where it hurts again and it helps if I press flat on it with my hand."
His thoughts screeched to a halt.
What?
She thought he was here to help?
Did she think he wanted to encourage her behavior? Did she actually think that he was the type of person who would hold her fucking hair back while she threw up her dinner? What the fucking fuck was wrong with her?
"Why are you just standing there?" She started to kneel. "Are you listening? My stomach hurts and I can't get it out if I don't press on it because it hurts too bad. I need both hands."
He stared at her in shock. She was so fucking calm, so nonchalant. He wanted to scream. What the actual fuck?
Had she done this withsomeone before?
"What are you doing?" she asked, one hand holding her twists and the other waving him over. "Aren't you here to . . . Oh. Oh."
Draco didn't move.
Slowly, her eyes widened. The realization that he wasn't actually here to hold her hair back while she purged the food she'd just eaten seemed to fill her with a mortification that turned her as red as beet. Quick as a flash, she flushed the loo and rushed to the sink. She washed her hands as fast as she could, her gaze avoiding his in the mirror.
He was livid.
Did she think he was soft? Did she think he was so stupid that he would actually come into the loo to help her purge her food? Had he been too kind to her, or too understanding? What on Earth made her think that he would be able to be manipulated like that?
Who did she think he was?
She tried to walk past him, but he filled the door frame with his height and slammed his hand against the opposite side of it. She looked down at his arm and drew her hands back in a defensive motion.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I didn't know that wasn't why you were here. I just thought that since we had discussed it more in-depth when we were laying down the other day, that you . . . That you understood. I guess I had it wrong."
"And you thought that I'd . . . What?" His budding rage made his words short. Slow. He bit them out through his teeth. "Hold your hair back while you killed yourself?"
"Don't be so dramatic," she hissed, her hands in fists at her sides. "I misunderstood. It was harmless. I just didn't realize why you were here."
"No, no, no," he said, shaking his head. "Don't give me that shite. What the fuck made you think I was going to help you do this? Why would you think that I would ever condone this behavior?"
"Well, you weren't here to fuck me in the loo!" she shrieked, her sarcasm evident in her tone.
Draco ripped his wand out of his sleeve and cast a quick muffliato. After he put it away, he took a step away from the door, towards her. She stumbled back a step, her eyes filling with tears.
"Don't test me," he warned, towering over her like a sentinel.
"Why are you being so cruel?" she cried.
"I'm not being cruel just because I care about you, Hermione! It's not cruel to stop you from hurting yourself! And knock it off with the tears, or else I'll give you something to cry about."
Just like that, her tears stopped forming. She wiped them away, and it was like they'd never been.
She was faking her tears?
"I'm sorry, okay?" she snapped, baring her teeth. "I misunderstood why you came in here. I just assumed that that could be the only reason why."
"Really. The only reason why." Statements. Not questions.
He was so fucking angry.
"Yes. I thought you were here to—to hold my hair back, or to take care of me after. Or something."
"If you want me to hold your hair back," he breathed, his anger hovering behind the bars of his self-control, "then it's not going to be to help you do that."
She gave him an incredulous look. "You really think I'd do that? Just get on my knees for you in a public loo?"
"You can get on your knees for the loo in a public loo. Why not for me?"
He was challenging her. He didn't mean it—didn't really want her to—but there was something in her eyes. A glint that he both recognized and didn't understand. It was something he felt like he'd grasped before, but like he couldn't grasp it anymore. Like it would slip away every time he reached for it.
Unless she gave it to him.
She reached up for her hair buns and took them down. First the left, then the right. Her hair tumbled down to join the rest of it . Her facial expression was a mixture of contentious and defiant.
He backed up, but her hand had already found its way to the top left button on his peacoat.
Smack.
He snatched her wrist away from him and held it in the air between them.
"Don't get all shy on me," she taunted. "Call me a whore and treat me like one."
The feelings that he'd felt when they were back at the corridor—when he was crumbling to pieces in her arms—rose up. The way it had felt to kiss her like that, as though he couldn't resist the urge to taste her lips. Like she were the only person who could complete him and make him happy.
And the only person who could hurt him so deeply that he got angry.
Their gazes met and then, at the same time, dropped to each other's mouths.
"Now, Draco."
Draco snapped forward to slam his lips against her own, inhaling through his nose as he did so. He wrapped one arm around her back, taking his other hand and sinking it into her twists. He grabbed a handful of them, wrapping them around his hand and yanking her head backward.
They crashed against the sink, the force of the counter's edge hitting her lower back causing her to cry out. He took advantage of her open mouth, shoving his tongue into it to dominate her. He pulled back and she tried to follow, but he pushed her firm against the counter to stop her.
"You want me to treat you like a whore, yeah?" he growled through clenched teeth, ripping his coat off and dropping it onto the floor without a care in the world. He slammed another kiss to her lips, groaning in his chest when he felt her hand massaging his growing erection through the front of his trousers. "Get on your knees."
She dropped like a stone through water, her fingers frantic as they ripped his belt out of the loops and tugged down the zipper. He choked on his breath when her cold hand wrapped around the heat of him, the contrast making him see spots. His hands curved around the counter, anchoring him to reality as she pumped her hand up and down.
"So good." His head fell back, hitting the mirror with a quiet thunk. "You're so good."
She ran her tongue along the underside of his length, wrapping it around the head over and over. Until he thought he might go mad. His thighs quivered.
"I told you how to treat me," she said, and then her tongue laved against him again. His knuckles hurt from how hard he was gripping the counter. "I don't want you to be sweet to me anymore."
Something inside of him was torn asunder.
"You fucking bitch," he moaned. "You absolute fucking bitch."
"Better," she said, kissing the tip. A shudder ran through him. "But I want more."
Draco felt disoriented with desire. In the back of his mind, he felt the same as he had the last time she'd acted this way. Deep down, he knew this was some sort of issue within herself that made her feel better. He knew that.
It just scared him how easy it was to do it.
"I want you to beg me for it," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. His hand slid into her hair and his other hand gripped himself.
There was desperation in her eyes. Desperation that didn't quite make sense to him, but that he'd gladly accept.
"Please," she said.
He tightened his hold on her hair, shaking his head. "I said, I want you to beg me for my cock, Granger. If you want to be a good girl for me, you'll beg me."
"Please," she whimpered, her tongue wetting her lips. "I want you to come in my mouth."
He nearly whined at that. How was it that she was so perfect for him? How could just her words make him tremble at the seams? How did they make him want to lose complete control?
"Open those pretty fucking lips," he groaned, teeth once again gritted as he wrenched her hair tight and held her head in place. She looked directly up at him as her lips parted, taking him into her mouth with a soft sucking motion.
It felt like the sort of heaven he never thought existed.
His hips snapped forward, until he felt the end of his cock sliding into the back of her throat. She moaned and the vibration of it hummed through his body. He began to thrust, his eyes rolling up into his head as he lost himself to the sheer, primal need to come. It roared through his body, plunging him into the heart of the flames. She sucked him off even as he fucked along her tongue, feeling the slick slide of it against his skin.
She was so fucking good at this.
"You want me to come in your mouth?" he asked, his tone almost too gentle for the voracious need that was burning inside of him. His hips pulled back far enough for her to take a breath. "Huh?"
She moved her lips to the side for a second, gasping and whining, "Please. I deserve it."
"Are you gonna keep it down? Because I'm not giving you anything unless you do."
Her head bobbed up and down.
Sweet fucking Circe.
He twisted her hair again, forcing her head back towards him. She opened her mouth and he slid along the softness of her tongue. The feelings of pleasure that rippled like electric currents from his cock to his abdomen to his beating heart caused him to lose the last bit of control that he had. He breathed a stream of barely intelligible fucks and pleases, and then he felt the electric currents strike like lighting. With a low whimper, he came, the orgasm hitting him like a train and taking the breath out of him.
Her hands gripped the outside of his thighs as she struggled to swallow, looking up at him with that same desperation that had undone him in the first place. She choked a bit as he filled her mouth, some of it dripping out of the corner.
"Fuck! Keep it down, keep it down," he pleaded, feeling himself emptying down her throat. The waves of euphoria overtook him and he pulled her hair even harder, his other hand stroking along her jaw with an affectionate touch. "You're such a good fucking girl for me every fucking time."
When she was completely done wringing every last drop out of him, she hummed her approval and licked her lips. She tucked him back into his pants and trousers, and then buckled his belt for him. He allowed her to, basking in the afterglow of what was the best sexual non-sex encounter of his entire life. Then, she smiled up at him, looking mischievous and like she'd just caught the canary.
"Did you like that?" she asked, rising to her feet.
"Yeah," he said, his hand coming up to wrap around the back of her neck. His eyes searched hers and his brows pulled together. "Did you?"
She smiled again, leaning up to kiss him. He could taste himself on her tongue and the eroticism of it heated his blood. "Of course I did. Was me begging for it not enough?"
He bit his lip, his gaze falling to her lips before bouncing back up. "It'll never be enough. Come here."
Pulling her up to kiss him, he tilted his head and attacked her lips with his. This kiss was messier, especially with how much he loved the taste of himself knowing that she'd just enjoyed it, too. She kissed him back with the same passion. Draco could feel her pressing her body against his in a way that showed him that she wanted him to do whatever he could to her when they got back home.
"Let's get going," he said after they pulled back.
"Give me a second to clean up," she said, smiling that same disarming smile. "I'll meet you outside."
Draco nodded and grabbed her chin, giving her a serious look before he kissed her again, his tongue sweeping through her mouth and tasting what remained of himself. He didn't know how the Hell he was supposed to function throughout the day tomorrow with the knowledge that they'd done this in the loo at the Three Broomsticks. It was like a dream from his younger years come true, and so, so taboo.
He left her behind, heading out of the restaurant without trying to look like the culprit of something.
The Winter air was cold and crisp outside as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Snow crunched underfoot, a light sprinkling of fresh flakes floating down in lazy patterns from the rapidly-darkening grey sky.
It was odd.
He'd spent so many years of his life dreaming of her, seeing flashes of her life in shadows, feeling nothing substantial except for fear. Never knowing who he was going to be when he made it onto the other side of the storm. Always fearing that he was going to be numb and scared for the rest of his life. Now that he had Hermione in his life, it felt like he'd been seeing in color for the first time in years.
Things didn't seem so grey anymore.
He just wished he could figure out how to rid himself of the fear.
She came out a few minutes later, her eyes bright and a smile on her face. There was even a bit of a bounce to her step.
"Ready to go?" she asked.
He held out his hand, half-expecting her to reject it, and she took it. They turned to go, nearly running into a group of startled young Hufflepuffs. Their eyes dropped to Draco's fingers intertwined with Hermione's. They looked about ready to bulge out of their sockets.
Draco couldn't help but smirk. He was starting to think he could get used to the attention.
"I'm starting to hate the snow."
Draco stopped, his hand being tugged on as Hermione traipsed through the snow to catch up to him. They were trying to make it up the hill and while it was easy for him, she was really struggling with the exertion. It seemed like she was a bit more winded than normal.
He worried.
"Well, it's not going anywhere anytime soon," he said with a laugh. "You might as well get used to it."
"How about you get used to it?" she snapped, her cheery mood from Hogsmeade having dissipated with the daylight. "You know, if we end up living together forever in harmony, then you're going to have to be a little bit nicer to me."
He threw his head back in a laugh and squeezed her hand. "As if I haven't already treated you like a princess."
"I'm a queen," she said, tossing her twists over her shoulder as she stopped to catch her breath.
"Then what's that necklace around your neck?" he asked, taking his hand out of his coat pocket and pointing to where the pendant rested against the neckline of her puffy coat. "I could be wrong, but I think it's quite a few karats of diamond."
"Oh, you mean the necklace you stole?" She smirked up at him, swinging their clasped hands between them. "That's right. Pansy told me because Blaise told her."
"And you believed her?"
"Slytherins are honest when it serves them," she teased, tilting her face up. She puckered her lips and danced back and forth on her left and right feet. "Hurry up before my lips freeze off."
He smiled to himself and kissed her. As he tried to pull back, he felt her arm wrapping around his neck and keeping him bent at the waist. She kissed him again and again, quick successive pecks that barely allowed him to breathe. He laughed against her lips.
"All right," he said when she finally let him go. "I stole it. And what?"
"And what?" She appeared incredulous, giggling. "And what about it, huh?"
"And what about it?" He leaned down to kiss her again because he couldn't resist. It felt nice to have things back to normal, at least for now. "I didn't have the funds with me, so I just took it. I could blame it on Blaise, but . . ."
"Yeah, yeah. You'd better not even try. You—ah!"
Hermione's hand slipped out of his. He stopped and looked down. She'd collapsed on her hands and knees in the snow. At first, he started to laugh, his good mood telling him it was a funny situation, but when he held his hand out to her, she didn't take it.
"You okay?" he asked gently, kneeling.
She sat up on her knees, holding a hand to her temple. Her eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head. Her breath came in short pants.
"Sorry," she whispered, blinking a few times. Her vision didn't seem able to focus on him for a moment. "I'm just—just a bit dizzy. I feel sort-of—sort-of weak. In my chest. So strange."
Panic.
Draco reached for her elbows and hauled her to her feet, looking at her in a new, concerned light. How could she suddenly be having this issue? She was fine not even moments ago. She was laughing and conversing and giggling and kissing him. And then she was on the ground.
Just like his mother. His mother had been fine, until she wasn't.
She'd been alive, until she wasn't.
"I'm all right," Hermione said, beaming up at him. "Let's just get back to the castle."
"You want me to carry you?" he murmured, only half-joking, his arm around her shoulders and his other hand pulling her chin up.
"No, that's okay," she said in a tiny voice, pulling out of his grasp and resuming her marching steps through the deep snow. "I just need a banana."
Draco stopped.
A banana.
Why would she need a banana?
"Wait a damn minute," he said, laughing a mirthless laugh of incredulity. "Did you fucking finish purging when I left?"
She averted her gaze.
"Are you joking? You still did it?!"
She threw her hands out. "I have slow digestion! I don't know! I just . . . Wanted the food out of me."
"So you lied and said you'd clean yourself up?"
"Yes," she huffed. "Don't act so surprised."
"That's the thing, Hermione!" he yelled, throwing a hand into the air in frustration. "I'm not surprised. That's what's actually so sad about it. You're so fucking predictable."
"If I'm so predictable, then what does it matter that I did it, huh?" she cried. "If I'm so predictable, it's stupid for you to act shocked."
"No, I'll tell you what's stupid. What's stupid is the fact that in spite of the danger it is to your body, you still do it. What's stupid is that you think that it's okay to eat your food and throw it up, and then lie about it. That's what's stupid, especially when you used to be so smart."
"Because your idea that it's linked to my intelligence cures me. Thanks." She gave him a quick, sarcastic twist of the lips and then continued up the hill.
Draco's vision was hazed in red. His thoughts were completely empty of anything unrelated to how angry he was, how used he felt, and how frustrating it was to deal with her. She was like a child, breaking every rule that kept her safe, running into the sea as the tide rushed in. Sometimes he wondered if she even cared if she died.
That terrified him.
He caught up to her, grabbing her upper arm and whipping her around to face him. She panted heavily, her mouth agape as she gasped for air. Her skin was flushed red and the indignance on her face threatened to make him snap.
It succeeded.
"What is wrong with you? No, seriously—what is actually, legitimately wrong with you? Do you not realize I'm a fucking human being?" he yelled. "Do you not realize that I care about you, and that's why I don't want you purging? Why the fuck would you think I'd be okay with that?"
"Aren't you always?" she cried in exasperation, ripping her arm out of his grasp.
"Aren't I always?!" He thought he might lose his shite. "Hermione! What the fuck?!"
"You don't exactly try to stop me, Draco! You let me purge whenever I want and when I do it, you just comfort me afterward! You made a bunch of rules that basically allowed me to keep doing it while simultaneously trying to control me, and then you barely enforced them! Now you want to act surprised?"
He scowled, revolted. Theo's words danced around and around in his head, reminding him of what she really thought of him. He hadn't wanted to believe it, but now . . .
"Oh, don't look at me like that," she snapped. "All you ever do is take care of me and while that's all well and good, you can't seriously think it was enough to get me to stop."
It's not enough. It's never enough. Nothing I ever did was enough.
And that's why my mother's dead.
"It's like you think I'm just making this all about myself," he said angrily. "Like you think I can't empathize. Like you think I'm a mistake."
She shoved past him again, stomping through inches of snow and continuing to pant for breath as she did. As she went, snowflakes clinging to her hair, he found that he was angrier than he'd originally thought. From binging in front of him, to thinking that he would hold her hair back, to faking her tears, to lying to get the chance to purge in spite of how clear he'd made himself, he was furious. He found that he could keep it inside no longer.
"Because that's what you told Theo, innit?"
Hermione stopped, remaining faced toward the castle.
"You told him I was a mistake. That I was selfish and that you can't wait until you never have to see me again. Didn't you?"
He saw her lower her head. Her shoulders heaved.
Crunch. The snow shifted as he took a step up the hill closer to her.
"Why would you ask to discuss our future together if it's not what you want?" he yelled. "Why would you lie again and again and again if you just want to be rid of me?!"
She stomped down to him.
"What else was I supposed to do?! I didn't know if I wanted this bond! It's not as if I consented to it! What else could I do other than try to go along with it in the hopes that I warmed up to it somehow?!"
"You don't lie, Hermione!" he shouted, slamming the side of his palm against the opposite hand. "You don't lie and pretend to have feelings for me if you don't even want me in your life!"
"I did want you in my life!" she screamed, and then using both hands, she shoved against his chest. She was weaker than a Bowtruckle, so he didn't move, but it was more than mildly irritating. "I did! But then you had to go and ruin . . . Everything!"
Draco shook his head in disbelief. "So, I have the wherewithal to apologize to you for hurting you . . . But the moment I call you out for hurting me, you get angry and belligerent."
"I didn't do anything wrong!" she shrieked, her face getting even redder. Snowflakes clung to her lashes. "You told my biggest secret, and then I vented to my friend! There's nothing wrong with venting!"
"It still fucked me up!"
He'd never yelled at someone this way before. He didn't know what beast had taken over him, but he couldn't physically hold the ire in his chest. It felt like it was swelling inside of him—like it was seconds away from breaking his ribcage.
"Then maybe you should have kept my name out of your mouth," she snarled, her eyes blazing. "You should have left my business to me. I would have told my friends when I was ready. But you took that away from me, so I needed to vent to a friend that I did trust."
Draco knew she wasn't going to forgive him quickly. He'd understood that when he apologized. He'd known he was going to have to make amends for what he'd done, possibly for years. He recognized all of that and wasn't making any excuses for himself.
But he'd treated her so fucking well and he wasn't asking for much. He just wanted an apology or for her to say that she hadn't meant to hurt him. Was she glad she'd hurt him? Was it really that overwhelming for her to face her guilt?
How could she be so selfish?
How could he be so stupid?
"You manipulated me," he said, "for a Hell of a lot longer than today."
"Fine," she said, unaware of the impending explosion that was ruminating beneath Draco's disbelief. "Yes. I manipulated you. When you caught me purging that day before Christmas, I was so sure you were gonna come back and be the Malfoy I remembered. I thought you were going to yell at me and make impossible rules. I thought you were going to rip the door off of its hinges and control me and go to McGonagall and tell.
"And you did make rules. But they were—they were possible, and you didn't seem to even care that I was purging. You cared, but not enough to actually try to make it difficult for me. You made it so easy. Gods, did you make it easy. But then you had to go and betray the one thing I didn't want anyone to know. You violated my trust.
"You wanna know what the real definition of a bad person is? Someone who hurts themselves and others without ever seeking help for themselves. You're toxic, Draco. Just like your father."
Draco tightened one hand into a fist, his fingernails nearly breaking his skin. She was right. He'd made it easy for her. He'd made himself simple by taking the caring route—by trying to provide her with a safe space to engage in the behaviors—and she'd walked all over him.
Draco Malfoy, bested by Hermione Granger because he fancied her.
He was a fool.
"You used me," he said.
She crossed her arms over her chest, remaining silent.
He advanced on her.
"You used me because you think I'm a fool."
She scowled, looking up at him. Then, when she saw him coming toward her, her irritation subsided a bit. She uncrossed her arms.
"But this is what I find funniest." Her gaze snapped to his, confused and wary, but still angry. "You think I'm a fool until I've got my fingers or tongue in your cunt. Then, suddenly, I'm not so much of a fool, am I?"
Before she could realize what was happening, he was right in front of her. Her head tilted so far back that it exposed her throat.
Her throat, which he'd wrapped his left hand around in his fury.
"You think I'm a fool until you're begging me to call you a Mudblood whore," he hissed, feeling her pulse fluttering against his palm. "Then, suddenly, I'm not so much of a fucking fool. Am. I?"
He tightened his hold on her, not understanding how he was holding it together when he was this livid. She let out a breath, and it sounded like it had to force itself past the circle of his hand.
"I'll answer for you."
Her eyes widened.
"Because those times are the only times you can't manipulate me. They're the only times when the knowledge that I'm in control puts you in control. And that's what it's all about. You'll do anything to get that control. Throw up your food. Lie to get me to do what you want. Even get on your knees for me in a public loo. Isn't that right?"
She closed her eyes for a moment, still saying nothing.
Because he was right.
Draco pulled her closer, dipping his head down next to her ear. He spoke on the exhalation of a breath.
"Or maybe the reason why you used me is because you forgot who the fuck I am."
He let her go and she stumbled to the side, rubbing her throat and coughing. Feeling no sympathy for her, for this witch who had taken advantage of his heart and used him to enable her disorder, he watched her down the length of his nose. And still, she hadn't said anything.
"I'm weak. I'm fucking soft for you. For you, Granger." He reached for her chin, grabbing it and yanking her face up until she looked into his eyes. He had a feeling her tears were real this time. "But you haven't seen toxic yet."
He left her there. She had two legs.
She thinks I'm toxic?
Fine.
I'll be exactly who she wants me to be.
