Is this dragging on a bit too long? It seems quieter around here lately is all. I just want to make sure I haven't veered too far off my path with this one. I do that sometimes when I just enjoy the story I'm in.


5 September, 3:00pm

Growing up, Hermione hadn't been overly concerned with her wardrobe. She'd not cared much about many things girls her age cared about until she began to realize that by not caring, no one saw her as anything more than just a brain. A brain usually stuck in a book. It wasn't terribly offensive but she was also more than that. She was just like the rest of them in most ways. She was insecure about what she saw when she looked in the mirror, even more so when girls like Lavender Brown began wearing a cacophony of things on her face. It was to accentuate her already stunning features, or so she liked to say. Hermione thought it made her look ridiculous.

But the boys disagreed obviously. Even Ron Weasley.

And so she tried more. Tried to do the things other girls did. She put more effort into her hair which she didn't mind because the end result honestly made it easier to deal with overall so that change was worthwhile. She spent time in the mirror when at home on breaks trying to discern what bits of makeup she could tolerate, maybe even liked, and which were just far too silly for her tastes. She'd been at peace with the state of her body. She didn't worry over silly spells in Witch Weekly that promised growth in areas one might wish to be larger. She just learned to accept that she was Hermione Granger and there was nothing she could do to change herself to please others.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. You're not even looking."

Hermione pressed her eyes closed and grit her teeth. She didn't want to be here. This hadn't even been her idea. However, no matter how she tried to will the contents of the store to be something else, anything else, when she opened her eyes again it was still lingerie. Everything from simple cotton knickers and bras to elaborate stringy things meant to entice a lover.

No, she didn't want to be here. Not at all.

"Ginny, this wasn't my idea."

Ginny rolled her eyes as she ran her fingers over some lacy little thing on a mannequin. "You're going to be married in three months. I know you said he's planning the honeymoon and for some odd reason—which I'm not asking about—you've still not shagged the man, but don't you want something nice to wear for when you do?"

Hermione felt heat rise to her cheeks. It was anger over the undertones of judgment and shame for not being more excited about the prospect of scraps of fabric for her new husband to rip off.

"It's a bit patriarchal if you think about it," she said, sparing a glare for a little number that looked most likely to create the world's worst wedgie.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, it's considered the norm in a heterosexual relationship that the woman should get all dressed up, or down should it be, in some racy little number all so her lover can enjoy taking it off of her. What about us? Why is my body made to be a show and not his?"

Ginny waggled her brows. "Who says it won't be for you?"

Hermione made a gagging sound. "Merlin, I feel like I'm dipping my toes in dangerous territory. Please do not tell me anything about you and Harry. I can see the look on your face. I'd rather you didn't. I've been telling you that for years."

"Fine, fine. He'd probably try to jinx himself if he thought I was telling you anything."

"He's like my brother, Gin. Just—no thanks."

"Anyway, have you and Malfoy not talked about this? Likes, dislikes…the lot?"

She sighed. "I don't really have much reference if you recall. But we have discussed the topic, yes. And I'm not the one who decided the honeymoon would be the first time."

Ginny dragged her eyes away from a silly robe that frankly wouldn't even cover her bum. "You don't have to tell me of course—it's private—but I'm curious why."

The memory of the angry streaks of scars littering his chest pushed to the forefront of her mind. They'd not really spoken about it since that night but he'd stopped glamouring them. She could tell because whenever she touched his chest, she could feel the raised and bumpy skin beneath his shirts. A fresh shot of anger raced through her veins when she imagined what other sort of hurtful things she must have said to him.

It was a persistent reminder that even the most confident people sometimes harbored deep insecurities. That and even men could suffer from emotional abuse.

She shoved her anger away. Ginny wasn't her target anyway.

"Because he wants it to be just right."

"Hermione, I only worry you're both putting a lot of pressure on the experience. First times between two people, whether experienced or not, aren't always…smooth."

As if Hermione didn't know that. She and Ron had both been inexperienced. Rose was literally the only good thing to have come from that experience.

She knew she meant well. She was only trying to be a voice of reason.

"I'm not looking for smooth, Ginny. It doesn't have to be perfect to be good." She sighed and turned her back on a rather intimidating piece of lingerie. "Neither of us have had especially positive experiences with past relationships." She lifted her shoulders and ducked her head. "Perhaps it goes against modern convention but I find it hard to be upset with a man who's trying so hard to make me happy."

Her throat was tight with discomfort. She'd always been the exception and never the rule. It would be nice for that to be okay for once. To not feel like she had to worry about what others thought, even this.

Ginny pressed her lips together in a thin line, a wash of pink took over her cheeks. "No, you're right. I'm sorry. I guess—I just want you to be happy so badly that I'm projecting what I think you need."

"All I need is him. The rest will work itself out."

She smiled. "Malfoy is a unique bloke, I'll give him that. But then again, I think that's what it took to win you over. Any man that determined to make the first time you sleep together so enjoyable isn't one I'm worried about." She turned to the mannequin next to them and pointed at the piece. "So, if you're not interested anything else, we at least have to find you a nice bra and knickers for the night."

Hermione groaned. At least they were on to other topics. She didn't relish having to defend any aspect of their relationship.

"If it will get me out of this bloody shop sooner, then fine."


By the time they finally arrived at Grimmauld place for dinner, Hermione had allowed Ginny to coerce her into buying a few new bras and knickers, compromising on them at least being something she could wear practically on a daily basis even if they were a bit lacier than her usual choices.

By then it was near six, they'd made a quick visit to Neville's shop to approve the flowers Mrs. Malfoy had recommended—white and red roses, thousands of them. And then she dragged Ginny into Flourish and Blott's for a quick look around. Rose had been very patient with all of the shuffling about lately and she wanted to surprise her with a couple of new books.

She shrunk her shopping bags and tucked them away in her purse. Draco had already arrived and she found him in the sitting room nursing a glass of firewhisky. He smiled when he saw her approaching but it fell when he saw her expression.

"What am I missing here?"

Her mouth pulled into a grimace and she moved around a chair to use his body to block her from Ginny's view across the room.

"My mum wanted to take Rose on a solo outing today and Molly has James so Ginny took me shopping and we approved the flowers your mother chose."

A tray of appetizers floated through the room, which could only mean that Harry was trying his hand at cooking again. Draco took one and paused with a crostini halfway to his mouth. "I'm sensing this didn't go over well. I've seen enough of your wardrobe to know you don't hate clothes."

She arched a brow. "Not that kind of shopping." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Lingerie shopping."

His brows crawled north and he stuffed the appetizer in his mouth to buy time. "I assume her tastes and yours don't match."

Hermione threw her hands up dramatically. "Merlin, no! She kept trying to have me look at all of these ridiculous scraps of things, stringy horrible things." She huffed, pushing a huge breath past her lips. The action sent a few curls flying. She wasn't going to tell him what else they discussed. "But then she got me thinking—"

No matter what she ended up actually purchasing, the sinking doubt in her gut kept asking her if she was wrong. What if Draco did care what she wore? What if he expected something elaborate and revealing? What if he liked those impractical lacy, stringy things?

"No, stop there," he said, holding out a hand. "I'll fix this one now. I can assure you I'm not a," he lifted his hands and mimicked the finger quotations he'd seen Rose do, "lingerie man."

Her shoulders immediately sagged with relief. "You're not? She nearly had me half convinced I should wear some ridiculous thing on our honeymoon that frankly looked bloody uncomfortable. We ended up agreeing on new bras and knickers."

Draco snorted and reached for a crostini which he held out to her. There was no one to see. The no feeding her in public rule did not apply. She eyed it before accepting the bite.

"You're looking peckish. And no," he said, and shrugged, "Some blokes care about that I suppose. Give me a nice set of knickers and bra any day, though I'll still be more interested in getting them off you."

She sighed and leaned forward to press her forehead against his chest. She mumbled against his shirt, "Everyone has an opinion about everything. Wear this. Wear that. He'll expect this—"

He had to stop her there.

Draco urged her back with his hands on her shoulders, enough to meet her eyes. "I expect you to be yourself. That's the woman I asked to marry me. I expect you to still be her after we say 'I do' and I expect you to be her in the bedroom. I'm sure she means well and she's just excited for you but this is to be our marriage and no one else's."

Hermione pulled her lip between her teeth, rolling the flesh gently. "So, you won't be disappointed if you undress me and find I'm in red lace underwear?"

He laughed so loud that Neville looked over. He shot him a meaningful glare and he looked away quickly.

"You look like a bloody siren in red. I won't complain."

"How magnanimous of you," she said, rolling her eyes. The edge of a small smile gave her away. How easily he could distract her and ease her worries. It was nice to have that.

Deciding to have a bit of fun of his own, he leaned down to her ear, "Besides, I think I'd prefer you in nothing at all."

Her breath hitched just as he hoped and he nipped the shell of her ear playfully before pulling back. He didn't even flinch when she swatted his chest, her brown eyes wide and her lip caught between sharp teeth again.

"Let's get through dinner and then I think I'd like ice cream—by ourselves."

His smirk returned. "I've grown to like it when you're bossy."


Indeed, they stayed for dinner that Harry cooked unaided. It was better than anticipated despite Draco's ribbing over the cook on the beef but didn't diminish Hermione's desire for post-dinner ice cream. She so rarely ever made requests, even fewer demands, and Draco saw no reason to linger as soon as it was socially acceptable to leave.

He took her to an ice cream parlor not far from her flat and watched as she chose not one but two different flavors for her cone. He declined having any for himself but took one lick from hers before he handed it over.

"Really?" She grumbled.

"Relax," he said, snickering. "You act like you've never had my tongue in your mouth or vice versa. I only wanted a taste."

"Hmph."

It didn't stop her from eating it though, not that he imagined it would. He took her hand and they set off down the pavement.

"Alright. Back to my questions."

"Really? I don't see why it matters."

"I like knowing how your brain ticks." He bobbed his head from side to side. "And maybe I like the ego stroke of knowing I'm your final choice."

She scoffed and continued to lick her ice cream in one hand, her other remained firmly clasped in his. "Alright. Fine."

"Krum?"

A laugh puffed past her lips and she looked up at him briefly. "I was flattered. You can't exactly blame me. He was very lovely and respectful but not very…"

"Intelligent?"

She gave his hand a squeeze in warning. "Oh, don't be mean."

Draco grinned. He swung their hands gently between them, as if they'd been doing it all their lives. The familiarity was possibly his favorite thing. The ability to reach out and touch her at a whim. But also having someone to share such simple moments of pleasure with—this was what he wanted for the rest of his life.

She was none the wiser to his inner monologue and continued to lick the ice cream cone in her free hand. Every few steps her eyes would flicker in his direction as if she didn't think he would notice. He noticed. He noticed everything she did.

"Potter?"

She narrowed her eyes and for a brief flash of a moment he through she might smash the ice cream in his face.

"What? Ew! No! Seriously, Draco, never. I've not once ever thought of Harry as anything more than a friend."

He lifted their hands so he could press a kiss to her knuckles, half to calm her and half to hide his amused smirk.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry. I had to ask though. You three were practically connected at the hip. It's a natural assumption that perhaps at some point—"

"Draco Malfoy, don't finish that sentence. I'm serious. I've never fancied Harry Potter even a little bit."

"Point taken. McLaggen?"

She scrunched her nose in the most adorable way but her ire had at least melted. "Ugh. Besides his unappealing personality? He has thin lips. No, thank you. And the interest there was one-sided. I don't know why Ginny even tried to set us up a few years ago. He hadn't improved any."

He snorted. "I had no idea you had such strong opinions on one's lips. It's safe to assume mine pass inspection?"

Her eyes flicked very briefly up at him again. "Obviously." She rolled her eyes when he squeezed her hand, signaling his request for further explanation. "Must I really stroke your ego by detailing why I enjoy snogging you?"

His grin morphed into a smirk. He was floating on a cloud today. It was like that the majority of the time with her. Theo was right. Relationships shouldn't be so difficult. They should be good. Enjoyable.

"I'd be happy to list all the things I enjoy about you." He reached over with his free hand and tucked a few escapee curls behind her ear. "For instance, I love these."

She blushed. "Fine." She squinted at her ice cream and he thought maybe she wouldn't actually say more.

"You don't have to. I wasn't trying to embarrass you."

"Hush. I'm trying to choose."

There was so much that she liked about him that she couldn't decide? Of all the emotional and physical scars he'd shown her and she still had too many things she liked?

Finally, she squeezed the hand holding hers, glancing pointedly at them. "After your lips, I'd say your hands."

Well, that wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting. "You like my hands?"

She nodded, unbothered by his skepticism. She'd grown more forthcoming after their engagement. A blush often still painted her cheeks whenever she shared something personal but she didn't shy away.

"They're big and you have long fingers but not really thin or thick ones. And you don't bite your nails nor do you let them grow obscenely long. I know its superficial and silly but I feel—secure when you touch me."

He used his hold on her to pull them to a stop. He leaned down and kissed her softly. She tasted of caramel and vanilla.

"No one's ever told me they felt secure with me. No one but you."

Her eyes flicked between his, like she was trying to piece him apart. "You've not been treated the way you deserve before, Draco."

He blinked. He knew he'd said similar things to her. He'd never really sought to hear the same sentiment directed at himself. Had no realized how it would feel.

The words tumbled free before he could stop them. "I don't know what I deserve."

Hermione's mouth fell open before she pressed her lips together. There was something in her eyes that he'd not seen before. Not pity or anger. Something else he couldn't name.

"More than I can possibly give you but it won't stop me from trying." She pulled at her hand until he released it and pressed it to his chest, over his heart. She vanished the remnants of her ice cream cone. "Draco, too many people have made you think you weren't enough."

Draco wrapped his arms around her and leaned into her. Often he was the one holding her but it felt like she was the one holding him this time. She was his complimentary shape. His missing puzzle piece. And she fit.

"I haven't liked myself as much as I have with you."

She pressed up on her toes and wrapped her arms tighter around him. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Knowing that he could be honest and say how he felt was a relief. He'd been an unwilling participant in a series of games for so long. Hermione was different. If she was angry, she told him. If she was happy, she showed him. There was no guessing.

Draco lost track of how long they stood on the pavement holding one another. He walked her home and then kissed her goodnight before he flooed home. If a wizard could float without a charm, he certainly would have been as he meandered through the townhouse. He found Pipsy in the kitchen setting out a fresh batch of mini tarts.

"Pipsy is working on her baking to prepare for Miss Hermione and Miss Rose."

Draco seated himself on a stool at the island and swiped an orange tart. "I suppose it goes without saying that you're quite looking forward to having them here then."

She nodded so vigorously that her ears flapped. She snapped her fingers and a calendar appeared, the days being marked off in scratchy red x's. "Pipsy is so happy for Master Draco and counting down the days. Finally a witch that deserves him!"

He watched as she realized what she'd said and how her eyes flickered towards the hot kettle nearby. He thought he'd mostly broken her of the urge but occasionally it returned.

"Do not punish yourself, Pipsy. You're not wrong."

He snatched another tart before he stood and pushed away form the island. "These are good. I think Rose will love them. Hermione, too, if she'll allow herself some sweets."

His elf beamed at him. Life was good.


9:00pm

His words haunted her long after they said goodnight. She sat in her favorite armchair, a book sitting idle in her lap as she waited for her mum to bring Rose home.

Rose didn't burst through the door with her usual enthusiasm. She was nearly asleep on her feet when she wrapped her arms around Hermione's waist with a yawn.

"I see gran properly exhausted you, yeah?"

She nodded and leaned into her. "I still need a bath, don't I?" She mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, a warm bath and then I'll tuck you in. Why don't you head up? I'll be there to read with you soon."

She nodded and didn't even argue. It was a true sign of just how tired she was.

"Goodness," Hermione said, a small smile curling the edges of her mouth as she watched her climb the stairs. "What did you do today?"

Mrs. Granger smiled. "I had tickets to a football game so she screamed her lungs out and then we did a bit of shopping—and don't you dare give me the warning! I'll spoil my grandchild if I want." She handed over a small shopping bag. "I only have one. So far."

Hermione looked up from the contents of the bag just in time to catch her pointed brow raise. She rolled her eyes.

"There are plans for another but please don't rush us."

Her mother's face broke out with a wide grin. "Now that I'm retired, I just want another snuggly baby to watch." She waved a hand at the stairs. "She's growing up so fast. I miss it."

Hermione sighed and placed the shopping bag at her feet. New clothes, at least two books, and a new coat for school—her mother only rarely spoiled her so much. But that was the way of things. They were close. Partly because that's the sort of family that they were but also because whether Hermione had liked it or not, she needed her parents' help.

"She is, and I feel like I'll blink and she'll be off to Hogwarts."

Mrs. Granger shook her hands. "I don't want to think about it. There are too many good things happening soon."

"Speaking of that—I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow. You know we're going to be meeting tomorrow to choose the wedding attire for the men."

"And then we shove them out the door and I finally get to see my daughter try on wedding dresses."

Hermione swallowed the flood of emotion in her throat. Tears threatened to prickle the corners of her eyes. She never thought this would be happening. Her mother had always encouraged her to open herself up more. To see what was out there. To stop punishing herself.

"Well, just to be on the safe side, I wanted to warn you about something. It's about Draco."

Her mother lifted a stern finger and began shaking it. "If that man has done something to—"

"Mum! No," she said laughing, "I'm sorry. Merlin, that's not what I was trying to say. No, it's—well when we were in school he and Harry got into a fight sixth year. It left Draco with quite a bit of scarring over his torso and he's very self-conscious about them. I just didn't want you to be surprised if you happen to see anything."

Her mother's expression sobered and then softened. "I know he's not always been on the right side of history but it's my understanding that he was also sort of led down that path by his father."

"I agree."

"We all have a few scars. Some more than a few."

"Well, his ex apparently made him feel quite badly about them." Hermione swallowed the rise of bile in her throat when she thought of the look on his face that night. The shame and fear. "I don't think it's inaccurate to say she emotionally abused him."

Half a dozen different reactions flickered in her mother's eyes. It should have been hard to shock her by now. She had a witch for a daughter, survived being obliviated, and hardly flinched when she found out Hermione was pregnant at eighteen.

"I'm glad he found you then." She reached for one of her hands and gave it a loving squeeze. "You're good for each other."

Hermione brushed her thumb over the underside of her engagement ring. She certainly hoped so.


Many thanks for reading! Stay safe (and warm if you're somewhere getting beat up by winter like I am). :)