Ollivanders Wand Shop
December 2004
Draco doesn't notice her arrival, despite the chimes of the bell above the shop door. Hunched over a workbench, he continues to drill away, crafting a ten inch cypress wand. A bouquet of white lilies sit on the floor near his feet.
"Who are those for?"
Draco flinches, having just realized he's not alone, then smiles when he sees her.
"Hermione Granger," he says.
"I'm early."
"You are. Several days early."
They've become friends since graduating from Hogwarts, and they've exchanged frequent letters since she took a job with MACUSA and moved into a highrise in New York City. Her last letter had said she'd be back in the area on Boxing Day after a short visit to see her parents on their sheep farm outside Sydney, Australia. They'd celebrate Christmas together before Hermione moved on to visit friends and former colleagues in London. The letter had said that this visit, instead of staying with Hannah and Neville, she'd like to stay in Cokeworth, at Spinner's End with Draco, if that was alright with him.
He'd written back immediately. Yes, of course, that would be alright.
And now she's a few days early.
"No longer spending Christmas with your folks?" he asks her. There's sympathy in his voice. He knows the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Granger and their daughter is strained. Always has been.
Hermione shakes her head. Draco knows she'll tell him about it when she's ready. He stands, crosses the room, and gives her a quick hug and a chaste kiss on the forehead.
"Well, I haven't cleaned the place yet. Haven't washed the sheets in the guest room," he says, "but you're welcome to the house whenever you'd like."
He fishes in his pockets for his keys, but they aren't there. On the counter, maybe? He turns away to scan the room.
"Who are the flowers for?" Hermione asks him again.
"Oh, uh… Maynard Borgin," he says. "Mother wants me to deliver them during my lunch. Care to join me? We could grab a bite before you head to Spinner's End. I'll need a few more minutes with this wand, though."
Draco spots the keys on the far end of the shop's counter, picks them up, and tosses them to Hermione. She fumbles, but catches them before they hit the floor.
"Thanks," she says.
Draco nods then returns to the wand he'd been making.
Hermione doesn't answer about lunch, and when Draco looks at her again, it seems all the color has drained from her face.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes!" she says too loudly, startled. "Yes, quite alright."
She looks down to the bouquet of lilies, and Draco knows that whatever comes out of her mouth next will be a lie. She's avoiding eye contact, which is her tell.
"I'm surprised your mother associates with Mr. Borgin," she says. "After all she's done to restore your family's name? Why's she sending him flowers?"
Hmm… Where's the lie in there? Usually, Draco's able to figure it out right away. Perhaps she knows what the flowers are for already? But why lie about that?
"Borgin's business partner passed away," Draco tells her. "Gavin Burke?"
Does Hermione know him? Highly unlikely as he lived the last twenty years of his life as a recluse. Then again, there's clearly something Hermione isn't telling him. She's still staring at the bouquet of lilies.
She says nothing, and Draco returns his attention, once again, to the wand he's nearly finished. A little more work and the center is fully hollowed out. He turns it upright, dumps the powdery wood particles on the floor to be swept up later. He picks up the dragon heartstring he selected earlier and begins guiding it into the wand's core.
All of this takes several minutes. Several silent minutes.
What is Hermione thinking? What secret is she hiding? It's not like her to keep something important from him...
When he's all finished with the wand, Draco makes his offer again.
"Ollivander doesn't mind if I close up for lunch. We could grab a bite at the Leaky Cauldron. Or I could go with you to Spinner's End for a few minutes, make sure you get in alright and find something to eat there. I should deliver the flowers first, but then -"
Hermione's eyes have turned misty. She's fighting back tears.
"Woah, hey. Hermione -"
Draco's on his feet again, hugging her again, but not letting go this time. She hugs him back, clings to him, buries her face in his chest. She starts to cry earnestly.
"I like watching you work," she says through tears.
It's almost funny how much her words do not fit the situation, but Draco doesn't laugh. "What's going on?" he asks gently. "You know you can tell me. It's never a burden."
Hermione had said once that she almost always tries to hide her big emotions because she doesn't want to be a burden to others. She doesn't want to be 'too much' for people.
Several moments pass, and Hermione still isn't talking, so Draco gives her further assurance. "You're not a burden. You're the furthest thing from it, in fact. I'm so glad you're here, and I'm glad I'm the person you go to when you're struggling."
Hermione pulls away to look at him square on. She wipes at her tears, and then asks, "Are you in love with me?"
Draco's whole body goes rigid. And then he cracks a smile. "Yes," he says quietly. "Of course I am. I'm sure you've known that for a long time."
"But you weren't going to tell me? Because even though you love me, you don't want to be with me. Because I'm not a pureblood. Have I got that right?"
Draco almost does laugh at this. "No," he says. "That's not it at all. The only reason I never told you was because I was afraid of coming on too strong. I didn't want to ruin my chances by trying too soon. I was sure you saw me only as a friend. That is, until I got your letter asking to stay with me. And then I thought - Well, I hoped we'd finally have this conversation. I just didn't expect it to be as soon as you arrived."
Draco looks at Hermione's lips now. He wants to kiss her, but there's still a cloud of confusion around them. Does she love him in return? And is she hiding something?
"I desperately want to be with you," says Draco, assuring her again.
"Enough to do it?" she asks. "As in, we're together? starting now?"
So she does love him?
"Absolutely," says Draco. "I'll move to New York, if you'd like."
"No, you love your job. I don't much care for mine. If anyone moves, it should be me."
If?
No, no if. Someone's moving, because Draco's already nervous about making long distance work, already afraid of losing her. He wants to debate this point, to insist on being the one to sacrifice. But that can wait.
Because they're together. It just happened. Finally.
Can he kiss her now?
"I need to be sure about some things," says Hermione. "I've got to ask the hard questions before - before it's made public."
"Before what's made public? Us?"
"Would you marry me if I said I was ready for that?" she asks. "Could we go today? Or does having marriage on the table make you realize I'm just something you need to get out of your system before you move on to someone better suited for you?"
"There's no one better suited for me," Draco insists. "Hermione, what's going on? Why are you… Is there a reason we need to rush?"
"You haven't answered the question. Do you love me enough to marry me?"
"Yes," he tells her firmly. "I do. You're my best friend, and I've spent these last few years feeling so lucky that you're in my life."
"And you don't think you'd regret it? Ending your family's pureblood line, disappointing your parents?"
"My mother loves you."
Hermione shuts her eyes tight like she's in pain. "Answer the questions," she says. "Please, Draco."
"There is absolutely no chance I'd regret ending my family's pureblood line. I don't care about that. I haven't in years. You know that."
"You don't want those things more than you want me?"
Draco takes Hermione's face between his hands. "Listen to me," he says. "There is nothing I want more than I want you."
Finally, they kiss. It's Hermione who initiates it. It starts slow and sweet, but becomes something more passionate. Her hands clutch his robes. His hands clutch her hair. And then he's scooping her up, and she's got her legs around his waist, and he's setting her on the counter -
"The windows," she gasps between kisses.
Without breaking away, Draco fumbles for his wand in his inside pocket. He withdraws it and, with a flick, closes the blinds and locks the door. He pulls Hermione's robes off of her shoulders, yanks at her blouse so that it's untucked from her trousers -
"Wait," she says breathlessly. "Hang on… I have to tell you something."
Draco stares at her expectantly.
"I'm Gavin Burke's daughter," she says. And then she rushes to explain. "And Annabelle Shackelbolt's. You might know the story that was told, the lie that her and Elwyn's first child was a stillborn. In truth, that child's skin wasn't dark enough for anyone to believe it was his. And they couldn't bear the thought of Gavin and Annabelle's affair becoming public knowledge, so -"
Merlin, this is insane.
Draco doesn't know what to say, so he says only her name. "Hermione..."
"My parents knew," she continues. "It wasn't like they thought they were adopting some normal Muggle child. Annabelle - She searched for biracial couples in London who couldn't conceive, who were educated and relatively wealthy. And in the end she chose my parents. But she didn't force them to take me. She could have, but she didn't. Instead, she told them everything, told them they were her top choice but she had a list of others... So they knew. My whole life my parents knew, but they didn't tell me."
"How did you find out?"
"An assistant to one of the Healers who helped restore their memories. She didn't realize it was a secret, so she brought it up in conversation."
"You've known for several years, then."
"You're angry I didn't tell you sooner?"
"No, I'm concerned that you've struggled with this by yourself," says Draco, and he means it with every fiber of his being. "Even if I'd know… Hermione, I don't care about your blood status, okay? I don't care who your parents are. I love you for you."
Hermione kisses him again, but pulls away after a minute to explain more.
"Gringotts contacted me," she says. "It turns out, Gavin Burke had some sort of special - I don't even know what to call it. Some special magic on his vault that will divide his wealth evenly between his children, including me, even though he never knew the child from his affair grew up to be Hermione Granger. Of course, his other children will realize they didn't inherit as much as they'd expected, they'll dig into it, the papers will catch word of it -"
"It's going to be a media frenzy," says Draco.
"Yes, it's going to be fucking awful. And I just know there are going to be pureblood supremacists using this as an excuse to spout more disgusting rhetoric. 'See, that war heroine who made Muggle-borns look so good, turns out she was a pureblood all along.'"
"That's why you haven't told anyone before?"
"That and I had to be sure about you," says Hermione. "Because if we got together only after you knew the truth, I'd always wonder if you really, truly loved me as deeply as I want to be loved."
"I love you with everything that I am," Draco tells her. "I hope I've made that abundantly clear."
"You have," she says. "And I hope I've made it clear that I love you just as much."
"You have," Draco echoes.
What could be left to say after that? Neither Draco nor Hermione can think of anything, so they kiss again. It starts slow and sweet...
-x-
Author's Note: If you're following my multi-chapter WIP and noticed some similarities between the Dracos and Hermiones I've written, don't worry this is not a spoiler for my other work. I just like for Hermione to have family issues, I guess. *shrugs*