I've been reading a lot of Muggle AU fiction, so I thought I'd try my hand at it. Rated M for adult scenes! So, please don't read if you're underage.

Beta: Bella Luna 92 (aka the BEST ever).

Fortuna Books was a quaint little shop just off of Diagon Alley. The owner, Hermione Granger, kept the store stocked with the latest biographies, novels, and books of poetry, along with a number of classics. She had two employees who traded off closing at night, but Hermione liked the mornings in the shop for herself.

It was March and warmer than usual. The foot traffic outside was sparse, but she expected to get a few people in before her shift ended at four. In the meantime, she leaned over the counter and let herself get lost in some classic science fiction.

The bell over the door rang and Hermione looked up from her novel. She smiled and her heart did a little flip when a familiar blonde stepped into the shop.

"Morning, Granger," he said with a smile as he walked toward her. When he reached her, he leaned onto the counter. She leaned back and crossed her arms, but the smile on her face was broad.

"Here for another book, Draco? You bought one not two days ago." She smirked at him and he grinned.

"Of course I'm here for a book. Why else would I come in so often?" He winked at her and she laughed.

"Well, let's find you one then." She walked from behind the counter straight to the fiction shelves near the back. "Let's see. The last book you bought from me was fantasy, right? Tolkien I think? How about some science fiction next!" Hermione turned and scanned the shelves, feeling him walk beside her, just close enough to feel his body heat without actually touching.

"What were you reading, Granger? When I walked in?" He leaned toward her under the pretense of reading the spines of books beside her. She felt her face heat pleasantly with his proximity. When she stepped away to look at books further down the shelf, he followed close beside her.

"A book by Frank Herbert called Dune. It's science fiction, and very complex. It might be a little over your head." She turned and smirked at him. He laughed, then he reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. She felt her face heat. He'd been doing things like that more and more lately and each time, she wasn't sure how to react.

"I'll take a copy, then." He smiled and tucked his hands into his jean pockets. "I was wondering if maybe you'd have dinner with me to discuss it. Since it's so very complex." His cheeks were pink and his eyes were wide in a false nonchalance.

For weeks, since the first time he'd walked into her shop looking for a cookbook, they'd been flirting. Hermione was a modern woman and had almost asked him to dinner or coffee a few times, but something had held her back, some little voice in the back of her head telling her to stay away. But now, he'd done it. A smile stretched across her face.

"I'd really love that," she said, trying to resist the urge to bounce on the balls of her feet like a child. He grinned in return, his alabaster skin showing his blush in a way that made Hermione want to touch his cheek to see what it felt like.

"Brilliant," he said, rocking from his heel to his toes and back again.

Hermione grabbed a paperback copy of Dune and took it to the front. As she rang it up, he leaned back on the counter. She couldn't seem to wipe the grin from her face. They were finally going to go to dinner, to spend time together not in Fortuna. But when?

Well, he'd made the first move, so she would make second. "How does tonight sound? For dinner?" She didn't meet his eyes as she tucked his receipt into the book - she liked to use them as bookmarks - and carefully dropped it into a paper bag.

"I'm not sure I'll have time to read much by then," he said. She glanced up at him, disappointed, and saw that he was smiling, his gray eyes bright. "But maybe you could give me some background. On Herbert, or the story. Or something. Anything, really." He seemed a little breathless.

"Perfect." She handed him the book. "I'm off work at 4," she said, feeling very brave. For the first time since she'd opened her shop - so long ago, she could barely remember - she wanted her shift to end early.

"I'll pick you up at your flat at 5:30," he said. "We can grab drinks before dinner. If you'd like."

"Very much so," she said, scribbling her address onto the back of a business card for the shop and handing it to him. He smiled at her and she was no longer able to hold back her desire to bounce on the balls of her feet the smallest bit.

"All right. See you then, Granger." He smiled in a way that made her knees tremble, and he left.

Hermione stared in the full-length mirror in her small bedroom, twisting this way and that. She'd tried on at least ten outfits, settling on an emerald green summer dress that cinched at the waist and flowed out from her hips to just above her knees. Some silvery sandals and matching earrings tied the look together, along with some light makeup. Her hair, which she'd always had trouble managing, was contained in a loose ponytail off to the side, resting on her shoulder and cascading toward her waist. She took a deep breath, a moment away from changing the whole ensemble - she wasn't used to dressing like this - when she heard a knock at her door.

One last look at herself - it would have to do - and she grabbed her tiny, beaded bag, which was just large enough for her cell phone, keys, and wallet, and went to answer it.

She opened the door. On the other side stood Draco, wearing charcoal gray slacks, a white button-down, and a burgundy tie. In his hand, he held a bouquet of daisies, her favorite flower.

His eyes popped open wide when he saw her, and she felt a blush color her bare shoulders and creep up past the thin straps of her dress.

"Wow," he said. Then, as if remembering himself, he held out the flowers. "For you."

She took them and smiled. "Would you like to come in while I put these in water?" she asked, and he nodded. He followed her into her small flat, closing the door behind him. She retrieved a tall vase from beneath the kitchen sink, and after putting the flowers in it, filled it with water from the tap.

"So, where are we going?" she asked, placing the flowers on her small kitchen table, right where they might catch some light and would be seen anytime she walked in this room.

"I thought we might get drinks at The Leaky Tankard." Draco joined her and carefully plucked one of the shorter daisies from the vase. He pressed it against a cloth napkin on the table, drying the stem, before he carefully tucked it behind one of her ears. She laughed lightly and reached up to feel it.

"That was a little cheesy," she said, smiling broadly. Then, feeling brave, she said, "I like cheesy."

"It's a good look for you," he said, tucking a curl around the flower, his finger barely brushing her cheek. "Ready to go?" He offered her his arm.

She took it, leaning into him a little more than was necessary, and nodded. "Let's go."

Drinks at The Leaky were lovely. Draco talked her into trying a new flavored beer - butterscotch flavored - and it was wonderful. They didn't talk about the book, but Draco told her all about his childhood, growing up in a stuffy, wealthy home, and how he'd rebelled in small ways that drove his mother crazy. Hermione had never laughed so much in her life. And dinner afterwards was wonderful as well. He'd taken her to a small restaurant that had a rustic theme and various old brooms hung on the walls. The whole space was lit by chandeliers that boasted tapered candles instead of light bulbs. He managed to hold her hand through over half of the meal and she'd never felt so at ease with another person.

They walked back to her flat after dinner and Hermione felt jitters settle into her stomach. His fingers were intertwined with hers and she wished, for a moment, that it were cooler out so she would have an excuse to snuggle in closer to him. March was supposed to be cool, but it was almost oppressively warm.

As if he sensed her thoughts, he slipped his hand from hers and draped his arm over her shoulders. She sighed as she leaned her head against him, the flower still nestled snugly behind her ear.

Too soon, they reached the door to her flat, and she regretfully pulled away. Hermione Granger did not invite a man into her flat after one date, and she wouldn't invite him in, but oh, how she wanted to, even if it was just to keep talking with him.

"I had a really wonderful time," she said, holding her small purse in both hands.

"Will you come out with me again, then?" He didn't seem at all embarrassed to be so eager, the smile on his face almost childlike.

With a matching smile that lit up her whole face she nodded. "I don't work at the shop tomorrow," she said breathlessly.

Draco stepped toward her and his hands drifted up to her face. He cupped her cheeks as if afraid she might break. "Brunch, then?" His thumb gently caressed her cheekbone, and she shivered.

"Sounds lovely." She swallowed, fighting the urge to lick her lips. How she wanted to kiss him.

He looked down at her mouth, wet his bottom lip with just the tip of his tongue, and leaned toward her. She met him halfway, pressing her lips to his. Her purse fell from her hands as his hands moved to her waist. Her hands went up, around his neck, and she let herself give in to an urge she'd had for weeks - to feel his soft, white-blonde hair. It was just as soft as she'd imagined and she sifted it through her fingers.

His hands slipped around her waist to her lower back and he pulled her closer. He opened his mouth, letting his tongue tease her lips, and she tilted her head, opening her mouth to him. She had to fight back a groan as his tongue massaged hers in a way that felt sinfully good. His grip on her waist tightened and her hands fell from his hair to his broad shoulders, trying to hold him more tightly against her. She could feel static all around, crackling with energy. This was what all those romance novels meant when they said a kiss was electric. She gripped his shoulders, fighting the urge to ask him to come inside, knowing it was too soon, wishing it weren't.

Again, as if reading her thoughts, he slowed their kiss, pressing multiple small kisses against her now swollen lips. As he pulled away, he let his forehead lean against hers as they both caught their breath.

"I've been waiting a very long time to do that, Granger," he said, kissing her again for good measure.

"Me too," she said breathlessly.

"If I'd know you felt the same, I would have asked you to dinner much, much sooner." He laughed lightly.

She laughed, too, and leaned away, not yet relinquishing her grip on his shoulders. "Wasn't I obvious?" she asked, not caring that her hair was mussed or her cheeks were red.

He shrugged and pulled her close again. "I thought you might be interested, but there was something in the back of my mind, like a little voice, that kept urging me not to ask you. To stay away."

"Then why did you ask? Why keep coming to Fortuna?" she asked, genuinely curious. What he was describing reminded her of the feeling she'd had about him - the one that she very much did not want to listen to.

"You're very hard to resist," he said, his voice husky as he kissed her again, this time slow and deep. When he pulled away, Hermione sighed, a stupidly happy smile on her face.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then? For brunch?" She really wanted to invite him in.

"I'll be here at 10 sharp," he said, then leaned down and kissed her once more, a simple press of lips.

"I can't wait." She was breathless.

They released each other and Draco bent to retrieve her dropped bag. Hermione blushed as he handed it to her, and gave him a wave with her fingers as he walked away, a happy spring in his steps.

The next few weeks went by in a blurry of dates and kisses and laughter. They had brunch, and the next day they went to a movie. The day after that, they had dinner, again, and after that, a day spent on a hike. Every day, actually, they spent time together, learning one another, never tiring of the other's company.

A month after their first date, and they'd spent a portion of every single day together. For tonight's date, Hermione had invited him over for dinner - takeout, as she was a rubbish cook - and a movie that she let him choose.

He showed up at 6:30 with a DVD of the 1984 classic Dune, and she laughed. "We never did discuss the book, you know," she said, taking the movie and kissing his cheek.

"Yes, well, we had more important things to do," he said as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. She smiled against his mouth.

"Much more important things." She stepped away and gestured to the small kitchen table. The daisies he'd given her that first night had wilted, and he'd replaced them with carnations, and when those wilted, a bouquet of wildflowers. "For tonight's dinner, I've gone all out," she said, motioning toward the cartons of Thai. "My culinary skills cannot be surpassed." She put her hands on her hips as if daring him to argue.

He laughed, a sound that made her insides turn to jelly, and bowed slightly. "I feel very underdressed for such a lavish meal," he said, motioning to his jeans and fitted tee-shirt. She laughed, her hand trailing up the ugly tattoo on his forearm. One of the moments of rebellion he'd told her about that first night. His friends had gotten him drunk and convinced the tattoo artist he was of age, then convinced him to get a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. It gave her the willies when she'd first seen it, but she'd gotten used to it and barely even noticed it.

"You are completely underdressed," she deadpanned, then smiled. "But I'll forgive you." She was wearing something similar, a tunic shirt that brushed her bum and yoga pants that were cropped at the knee. Her hair was up in a bun, held together with a thick wooden stick that looked like a piece of vine, sharper at one end than the other. She didn't remember where she'd gotten it, but it was perfect for holding up her bun when she couldn't find an elastic.

Draco took her hand and dragged her to the table where they ate with her feet in his lap.

After dinner, while Draco got the movie ready, Hermione made microwave popcorn. She joined him on the couch, snuggling comfortably into his side, and laid the popcorn bowl on his lap where they could both reach it. They'd watched movies together before, the first one being a scary movie that made her bury her face in his chest and hide her eyes. Later, he'd admitted he'd chosen a scary movie for that very reason. In the weeks since their first date and subsequent first kiss, they'd grown close, and that stay away feeling they'd both felt when they first met had disappeared.

The movie started, and before it was even a quarter of the way through, they were both in tears from laughing so hard. The story was good, but a movie from the 80s just didn't hold up to their standards. After thirty minutes, Hermione had to just turn it off. She wiped tears away from her eyes as she laughed, pushing stop on the remote. "It really is a wonderful book," she said as she clicked the telly off.

"You can pick the movie next time," he said, pulling her back to him on the couch, wrapping his arm around her as she snuggled into his side.

"Deal," she said, her hand resting on his chest. Next time.

As if struck by a bolt of lightning, Hermione realized she and Draco had never had the talk. The one where they defined their relationship. They made plans to be together every day. During the days she worked, he came to Fortuna Books and saw her after. On the days that she didn't, they spent time in her flat, or going out to dinner, or walking down Diagon Alley for ice cream, filling up almost every stray minute with each other. But in all of that, he'd never said what she was to him and a sliver of fear - that he wasn't in this for the same reasons she was - spiked through her.

"Hermione," he said, and she jerked her head up to meet his gaze. "What's on your mind? You had your thinking face on." He kissed her nose and she blushed.

"You'll think I'm daft," she said, burying her face into his soft tee-shirt and inhaling his scent - fresh linen with a hint of something spicy.

"Impossible," he said, gently rubbing her shoulder.

"Well, I was just wondering - " she paused and leaned back to look at him, his arm still loosely around her. "It's just, you and I have never really defined what it is we are." Her cheeks heated as thoughts whirled around in her head. What if this was too needy? Too clingy? What if he was seeing someone else? What if he was just having a good time and didn't want to put any labels on what they were? What if, what if, what if.

He regarded her thoughtfully. "Well," he kept rubbing her arm, "I can tell you that, since our first date, I haven't been seeing anyone else. Or, actually, since before that. Since we met." He grinned and shrugged. "I can tell you that I want to be around you, and really only you, all the time. That when we're apart, all I think about is you." He shrugged again, a sure sign he was nervous. "What about you?" He looked as nervous as she felt. "What are we to you?"

Hermione felt her heart hammering against her ribs. She grinned and leaned a little closer, propping her hands on his chest so that she could still see his face. "I haven't been seeing anyone else either," she said breathlessly. "I don't want to see anyone else," she said bravely. "I only want to be with you."

Draco grinned and captured her lips. "So," he said, as he pulled away, "You're my girlfriend then." Her breath caught.

"I suppose so. Only if you're my boyfriend," she said with a huge smile. He pulled her close again and kissed her.

Hermione, feeling brave, pushed him back until they were lying on the couch. She'd never been so forward with him, though she'd wanted to do this since long before their first kiss. His hands roamed over her back, and when his hands brushed the top of her bum she pressed into him, urging him to continue.

He groaned and slipped the stick from her hair, discarding it on the floor as his hands dug into her curls to hold her face against his.

After a moment she stood, startling him as he lay prone on the couch, chest heaving. She pulled him up, attacking his lips with her own before he could wonder what she was doing, and started dragging him back toward her bedroom. When he realized where they were headed, he grabbed her just under her bum and lifted her. Her legs went around his waist as he walked them down the hall, nudging open her bedroom door with his foot, and kicking it closed behind him.

He let her down then, but she didn't move away from him. He ran his fingers through her hair and up and down her sides, lifting the sides of her tunic to let his fingers trail along the soft skin there. She shivered as she pulled his tee-shirt from the hem of his pants and let her fingers span the smooth, warm skin of his lower back. He growled into her mouth as he stepped away and took it off in a rush.

His chest was pale and broad and she ran her hands over it as he caught her mouth again. There was a scar on his chest - jagged and ugly that made her heart ache - but his lips on hers made her forget it quickly.

The intensity of their kiss made her want to rip the rest of his clothes off. She felt out of control, and she hated being out of control. Again, as if he could read her mind, he slowed, never breaking away, until they were kissing slowly and deeply. It made the heat in her belly grow hotter and she moaned into his mouth as she ran her fingers over his jaw and up into his hair.

He released her mouth and began trailing kisses across her jaw and down her neck. She let her head fall back as his warm mouth sent tingles to her toes. His chest was solid and warm and suddenly she needed to feel his skin against hers.

She went to reach for the hem of her tunic, but he beat her to it. With warm hands he dipped under the hem of the tunic and dragged his hands upward, fingers leaving a hot trail from her waist up. He released his mouth's grip on her neck long enough to slip the tunic over her head and drop it behind them. His mouth resumed its journey down her throat, moving down toward her breasts. His hands behind her unhooked her bra and it fell just before his warm, wet mouth enveloped her. She gasped as his velvety tongue covered her hardened nipple and stroked it. Her fingers tightened in his hair.

Abruptly, he released her breast and kissed her mouth again. Their hands moved as if in tandem. Her fingers moved to his belt, releasing it, and undoing his jeans so they could fall to the floor. His fingers slipped under the band of her yoga leggings. He pushed them down her thighs, falling to his knees and peppering kisses along her breasts and belly as he went. While there, after she'd stepped out of her pants, he hooked the sides of her panties with his index fingers and dragged them down her thighs. She shivered when she felt his hot breath across her most intimate place. He kissed the crease where her thigh met her waist and she squirmed pleasantly.

He stood then, ridding himself of his boxer briefs as he did so. She stepped into him, pressing their bodies together, and felt his smooth, hardened length against her leg.

When he kissed her again, it was slow, and she melted against him, loving the feel of his hot skin on hers. They walked in tandem toward the bed, and just as their thighs bumped into it, he pulled away and looked into her eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice deep with longing. "We can stop if you want. Go back and watch the movie." His breaths were ragged. She ached with want upon hearing the desire in his voice.

"Do you want to stop?" She gently nipped his lower lip, her own eyes blazing.

"No," he said, breathing heavy.

"Me either."

That was all he needed. He attacked her mouth again and pulled her back onto the bed, rolling so that she was beneath him. He kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts. She gasped in surprise when she felt his hand trail from her breast, down her belly, toward her aching center. He brushed a single finger over her lightly, and when her hips bucked toward his hand, he gently slipped it inside.

After that, things moved in a blur of pleasure. She grabbed a condom from the drawer beside her bed and hastily sheathed him, despite being distracted by his hand, working her into a frenzy.

"Please, Draco," she said, pulling his hand from inside her and rolling so that he was pressed right up against her. "Please," she breathed.

He looked right into her eyes, brushed her hair behind her ear, and then slowly slipped fully inside her.

They both gasped with the contact and were still for a long moment, savoring the feeling. Draco leaned down and kissed her almost lazily, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth before letting it pop out again. And then, time sped up again. It was as if they were of one mind, moving and rolling together like ocean waves. Speeding up and slowing down to draw out this feeling, this moment, as long as they could. She wanted it to last as long as it could, but as he moved against her, she could feel the heat in her belly building toward her peak. Hermione moaned his name as she got close.

"With me?" she asked, hardly able to speak, as she met his molten stare. He nodded, capturing her lips - salty from their sweat - and sped up his pace.

It only took a moment before the heat building in her belly reached its climax, and suddenly she was floating, her thighs clenched around Draco's hips, her mouth open in a silent scream. She felt him press into her, deeper than he'd been yet, shaking, as he too reached the end. He pressed his forehead into her shoulder and she heard him gasp.

After a moment, they both went boneless, still wrapped together. Draco rolled them so he wasn't putting all of his weight on her and stared at her face. Their breaths came in short pants, and Hermione reached up to push sweaty curls off of her face. Draco smiled at her as he traced the line of her hip with his fingers.

"I like being your boyfriend," he said, and she laughed, smacking his chest before settling against him.

"Being your girlfriend definitely seems to have its perks." She kissed his chest over the jagged scar, making a mental note to ask him about it later. He was damp with sweat, but that spicy-sweet smell still clung to him. "Will you stay the night with me?" she asked, her voice quiet.

He kissed her hair and settled himself around her. "I'll stay as many nights as you'll let me."

After three more months, Draco told her he loved her and she asked him to move in. They spent their evenings exploring each other - their bodies, their pasts, their dreams. She learned every scar on his body, and he learned hers. There was one particular set of scars on her forearm - lines and scratches from a fall in a rose bush when she was six. When she squinted, she thought it made out letters, or maybe numbers, but knew that was nonsense. Draco would often kiss these scars, one at a time, and say that one day, he would be able to kiss them away. Six months after he moved in, they started talking about marriage. They were blissfully happy in their little bubble.

Until one night in mid-December, when everything changed.

Their little flat was decorated with soft, colorful lights, and their tree twinkled beside the window. Hermione woke when she heard the sound of glass breaking. They'd recently gotten a fluffy orange kitten that had a bad habit of knocking things off the kitchen table. Rather than wake Draco, she slipped from bed to check on the cat and clean up the mess. In the kitchen, the vase with Draco's latest floral gift - lovely roses - was on the floor, water and red petals everywhere.

"Silly kitten," she said with a sigh. She turned toward the kitchen to get a towel to clean it up and screamed before she could even take a step.

The shadow of a man lunged at her, and she fell back, scrambling on the floor. Draco streaked into the room, clad in boxer briefs, hair wild from sleep.

"Hermione!" he yelled, diving for the man. Hermione had fallen back against the couch. She scrambled to stand, and her hand felt something hard and ropey on the floor just beneath the couch. Her hair stick. It must have rolled under the couch that first night they'd made love. She'd forgotten about it. She grabbed it, as nothing else was nearby that could be used as a weapon, and stood, pointing it at the intruder in a way that made her feel foolish and strong all at once.

Draco was wrestling with him, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. The man wore a black ski mask, made to look like a skull. It reminded her of Draco's tattoo. Hot tears streamed down her face as she watched them fight, the man in black overpowering Draco.

The man finally knocked Draco off of him. His head hit the corner of the coffee table and he went limp.

"No!" she screamed, falling toward him, covering his body with her own, her hair-stick still pointed toward the man as if it were a sword.

"What're you gunna do with that, bitch?" The man's voice was gravelly and deep and made her shiver with fear. He lifted a gun that she hadn't seen and pointed it, not at her, but at Draco.

A feeling, hot and insistent, grew in her gut. He was going to hurt Draco, the love of her life. He was going to take him away from her. She felt that heat move up toward the hand that held the stick. He pulled back the hammer of his gun and all conscious thought left her.

"Avada Kedavra!" She shouted the nonsense words, and a blinding green light shot from the end of the stick and the man crumpled where he stood.

Hermione was in shock for half a second, before Draco's weight on her lap brought her back. The stick fell from her hand and she shifted so that she could hold Draco's face. Moonlight poured in, illuminated his features - his long nose, his high cheekbones. He was still breathing, though blood seeped from a wound on the back of his head, staining his beautiful hair dark.

"Draco," she said, stroking his cheeks. "Draco, please. Wake up." She leaned down and kissed his lips. "Please, I can't be without you."

As if by magic, his eyes started to flutter. He groaned and his hand went to his head, and she laughed, pressing her tear-covered lips to his.

"Where is he?" he asked, squinting as he sat.

She helped him, holding him to her, and pointed to the man lying off to the side.

"How?" His mouth was dry and he pulled her to his side as if afraid she might disappear. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure." With fingers that shook, she retrieved the vine-like stick. "I did something with this." Her tears still fell, but they were slowing. "I pointed it at him - " she felt panic rising as the past few minutes caught up with her. They didn't make sense. "And I yelled something, made up words, and - " she hiccuped as the panic truly set in. "And there was a green light. And he fell." Her eyes were wide as her breathing stuttered.

Despite his injured state, he took her face in his hands and looked right into her eyes. "Everything's OK," he said as he kissed her softly. He kissed her nose, her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. "We're OK."

"But how?" she held up the stick again. She felt calmer with his hands on her, looking into his eyes.

Draco lifted his hand to take the stick from her, to examine it, and when his skin touched it at the same time as hers, it began to glow.

"What's happening?" she asked, releasing the stick at the same time he did. It stayed, floating in front of them, a bright white light growing brighter. "Draco?"

Hermione clung to him and he clung to her as the light grew brighter and brighter. She couldn't move. His skin against hers was a reassuring anchor, but the light was so bright she could barely see. She looked to him - she could still see his face, his eyes - and he was staring back at her.

"I feel strange. Like I'm being pulled somewhere," he said, and she nodded. It felt like she was being pulled away from here, away from him. Desperately, she captured his lips, the light so bright she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

"I love you," she said against his mouth. She couldn't see anything except blinding white light.

"I love you, too." And then, she couldn't feel him anymore. Couldn't feel anything. She was floating in a sea of white light.

And then, there was nothing.

Hermione groaned as her eyes blinked open. Her body ached. She was lying in a bed, and not a comfortable one, with bright sunlight was pouring in the tall windows behind her. She blinked for a few moments until she could open her eyes comfortably. She was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, curtains pulled shut around her. What had happened? She couldn't remember anything.

She groaned and suddenly Harry was there, leaning over her, hair askew. "Mione!" he said, enveloping her in a hug, making her wince. "You're awake. It's been days!"

"Days?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "What happened?"

"Someone mailed you a cursed object, a former Death Eater. You opened it, and he - " he motioned toward the closed curtain, "tried to stop you from grabbing it. When the two of you touched it, you passed out. We've been waiting for you both to wake up ever since."

"A Death Eater?" She remembered. They were in their eighth year at Hogwarts. Voldemort had been defeated with the surprising help of the Malfoy family, and all the seventh years who'd survived had come back to finish up. She remembered her friends - both old and new - and how odd it had been after Malfoy had switched sides, how different he'd been since the school year started. She remembered -

A loud groan from the bed next to hers set her heart to racing. The sound sent shivers down into her belly and she shot up, wincing as her head throbbed.

"Mione, slow down." Harry tried to ease her back, but she brushed him off. She knew that groan. Knew that voice. Like a floodgate opening, memories of Draco rushed to the forefront of her brain. Draco buying books from her shop. Draco sharing Thai food with her. Draco holding her as they watched terrible movies. Draco making love to her, kissing her scars, her lips, her skin. She remembered Draco in the Great Hall trying to knock a simple silver pendant from her hands that received as a gift through owl post.

She stood, wobbling on her feet, and shoved the curtain aside.

With the sound of the curtain, steely gray eyes met hers and she felt her heartbeat heavily in her throat. Harry said she'd been asleep for days, but she remembered months. Did he?

She stared at him for a long moment, his face set into the mask she'd known since she was eleven - cold, indifferent. He didn't remember. It hadn't been real. She felt tears well up in her eyes as her shoulders slumped, and then she saw it - a slight widening of his eyes, a quickening of his breath as his lips just barely parted.

"Hermione," Harry said, and she shot him a look over her shoulder that made him stay put.

Slowly, hopefully, she sat on the edge of Draco's bed. They were both dressed in hospital pajamas - short-sleeved, gray, and soft. His Dark Mark stood in stark contrast on his forearm and with fingers that shook, she reached out and touched it. His eyes closed for a moment before he met her gaze again. He pushed himself up to sitting, the blanket pooling around his waist. He let his fingers touch her MUDBLOOD scars. His hands shook as he lifted her arm to his lips, and never breaking his gaze, kissed every scarred letter. He'd told her that if he could kiss those scars enough, he'd kiss them away.

"Draco?" she whispered as the tears in her eyes overflowed down her cheeks.

Suddenly his mask fell away. Relief painted his features as she fell against him. He gathered her close and she buried her face in his neck - clean linen and that spicy-sweet smell that was just him. His hand went into her hair and she felt hot tears fall from her cheeks onto his chest.

"It wasn't real," she choked out, holding onto him as if, at any moment, he might disappear. She felt his lips in her hair, on her forehead, the feeling familiar and comforting. His hands moved to her waist, to hold her tightly against him. "Someone cursed us with a necklace. It was all in our heads." She shook as reality set in. This was the real world, and in this world, they weren't together. They weren't even friends. "It wasn't real," she sobbed.

"It was." His voice was gruff. "For us, it was." He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. "For me, it was real. It is real."

Something in his voice, so sure and definite, calmed her. It was just like when they'd curled on their couch and watched scary movies. Just like the moments before they'd been brought back here, and she'd held onto him as tightly as she could. He'd been her anchor when her fear would take over.

She leaned back and looked at him, unsurprised to see tears leaking from his grey eyes. She wiped them away with her thumb.

"I don't want to be without you," she whispered. He leaned forward and kissed the trails on her cheeks her own tears had left.

"Then don't be." Like a weight being lifted, things became clear. They'd been in these beds, unconscious, for days, but somehow, they'd also been tied together somewhere else. They'd been together for months, nearly a year. They'd fallen in love. They'd planned a life. Being back in the real world, back in a world with magic and Houses and pasts didn't have to change that unless they let it.

"Alright." She smiled then, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She pressed her lips to his, feeling him exhale in relief. His body relaxed, and she realized he'd thought she would be the one to leave.

From behind her, Harry cleared his throat, and she pulled away slowly and stared into Draco's eyes. She saw his mask slipping back into place, and kissed him softly to reassure him before turning to her friend.

Harry stood just a few feet back, hands in his pockets, a look of pure awkwardness on his face. "Er, Madam Pomphrey said she thought the two of you might be sharing some sort of dream. Or well, more than a dream. Sort of an alternate reality. She wasn't sure how long - " He looked pointedly away from them. "She did some diagnostics, saw that your magics had intertwined." He cleared his throat. "I take it you were experiencing the dream, or whatever it was, together?" When he met Hermione's eyes, his cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

"Yes," Draco said, voice wary. Hermione instinctively leaned into him, grasping his tee-shirt in one hand while she wrapped the other around his waist. His hand on her waist gripped her as if she might be pulled away from him.

"Well. Do I want to know what happened?" he asked, and Hermione laughed, making him blush further. "I suppose if this - " he waved between them. "If the two of you are - " he stumbled, at a loss for words.

"Together," Draco drawled.

"Well. Yes. Together. I suppose if that's true…" he looked to Hermione for confirmation, his expression clearly saying that he hoped it wasn't true.

"I love him, Harry," she said firmly, and she felt Draco's fingers on her waist squeeze her gently. "We love each other. So, yes. It's true."

"Bloody hell," he said, pushing unruly hair back and looking between them with a sigh. "This is going to take some getting used to." With a grimace that Hermione was sure was supposed to be a smile, Harry stepped forward and offered Draco his hand. Draco leaned forward, still holding Hermione close, and clasped Harry's hand, shaking it once, before letting go. "All right then. I should go warn, er, tell people. I suppose. Right." He started to walk away, only to look back and mumble once more, "Bloody hell."

The hospital wing's door swung shut, and Hermione turned to Draco. She released her death grip on him, only to cup his face with her hands. She searched his grey eyes for the boy who'd tormented her, who'd hated her, but she could only find her Draco. The Draco who brought her flowers and kissed her scars.

Draco looked over her shoulder toward her bed. He picked up his wand from the side table and said, "Accio daisy." A single daisy - Harry must have brought them, as he knew they were her favorite - flew into his hand from a small vase beside her bed. With a smirk he tucked it neatly behind her ear before tucking a stray curl around it and cupping her cheek.

"So cheesy," she whispered with a smile.

"Cheesy looks good on you, Granger."

Hermione laughed, then crashed her lips to his. He lost his hands in her hair as she scooted so that they were lying, side by side on his bed, wrapped around each other.

When their kiss slowed, Hermione leaned her forehead against his and wove their fingers together. "This isn't going to be easy," she said. "Not like it was in our flat. For everyone else, this will be something - something completely out of the blue."

"It doesn't have to be easy - " he kissed her nose. "To be worth it."

Hermione nodded and pressed her forehead against his. "I love you," she breathed, needing to hear him say it in this world, where their history was so much larger than a chance meeting at Fortuna Books. Needing him to hear it now, at Hogwarts, where the entirety of their painful history existed.

"I love you, too." He said, pulling her to his chest. "More than anything."

When Madame Pomphrey came to check on them later, she found them lying that way, fingers interlaced, talking quietly. She didn't say anything, but did a diagnostic spell. Their magics were still intertwined, which didn't surprise her, as she'd watched them grow together beautifully as the slept. She couldn't see what they'd experienced, but she'd watched, checking hourly, as their individual magics found one another and wove themselves together intricately.

"You're both free to go," she said as they stood, holding onto one another. "Your robes are just there, and your classmates will be having dinner right about now if you'd like to go to the Great Hall." She smiled. "I'm glad for you both, you know." She left them alone, then, a smile on her face.

They changed together, having no reason to be shy, and stopped when they were down to their underthings to hold one another, skin to skin, for just a moment. Hermione sighed. It felt the same. She'd worried for a moment that he would feel different, but she fit against him like always.

When they were both dressed, Hermione leaned over and straightened his Slytherin tie before standing on her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. He took a deep breath and smiled, then offered her his hand.

"Ready to go, Granger?" he asked, and she was taken back to their first date. A smile spread across her face as she laced their fingers together.

She smiled, leaning into him, and nodded. "Let's go."