A/N - Bloody hell, I have been working on this chapter for ages. I actually started writing it a week or two after the last update, and I only just finished it two days ago. I just could never seem to get it right! Still, I don't quite think that this chapter is anywhere near perfect, but I think there had been too long a gap since the last update, so here it is!
I've actually got a whole bunch of exams coming up later this month, so there most likely won't be another update until some time in July. But I hope you enjoy this until then!
"For the whole of Christmas?" Harry asked quietly, keeping his voice low despite Hermione telling him that there was no point because Draco was most likely on the opposite side of the castle, thanks to Blaise.
Besides, she had reminded him and Ron (though neither took any notice) even if he wasn't so far away, them whispering wasn't going to prevent him from hearing them – and, in any case, he'd still able to smell their scent in her room.
She just hoped that Draco trusted and loved her enough not to get angry, possessive, or jealous over their meeting and jump to absurd conclusions. Hermione had kept it a small secret for that very reason, since she knew he felt rather threatened by them.
Hermione only rolled her eyes and continued to go back and forth from her trunk to her drawers and closet, thinking carefully about what clothes to pack. She had been trying hard, trying so, so hard not to choose certain outfits over others due to where she was staying - not to mention whom she was staying with – but eventually her paranoia won out.
She wasn't going to let them base their opinions of Muggles on the clothes that she was wearing, even though she was sure that they didn't need any help with forming an opinion. Still, they were a posh, rich, elitist family that resided in a big, posh manor – and that situation practically begged her not to take baggy t-shirts and sweatpants to their home, despite her being more than sure the most she was going to do (other than attend their fancy Christmas Ball) was lounge about with Draco.
And it wasn't as if he cared what she looked like.
She sighed. Going through her clothes and sorting them out was such an effort; she wished that her trip there were already over and done with.
"Are you sure, Hermione? What about your parents? Surely they would want to see you at least once." He took a seat on her bed as Ron leaned against the wall.
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and forced a small smile, trying to ignore the small shred of guilt that she had for leaving her mother, who would be on her own for the first time this Christmas. It had been a thought that had been plaguing her mind since she had sent the letter a few weeks ago telling her that she was going around the Weasley's for the whole of Christmas, not wanting to pick that moment as the time when she'd tell her about Draco and their peculiar relationship. The guilt had weighed her down so much that she had actually sent another letter back to her mother saying that she was actually going to cancel with the Weasley's and keep her company for Christmas. She was prepared to tell Draco before he had became ill that she wasn't going to the manor anymore, and that she would stay with her mother alone, despite any side effects that she'd have from being far away from him. However, it turned out that she didn't need to since she had received her reply around the time she was about to tell him, in which she had forbade her from coming home and missing sharing the holidays with friends; which, she said, was how she was going to spending her Christmas, so she already had enough company. Hermione had still wanted to argue about staying with her, but she knew that her mother was the kind of person that stuck with their first answer and there was no way to change her mind; but, instead, she promised that she would attend their family's annual Easter Celebrations - and she was going to bring a friend.
She had decided after sending the owl either that she would have to explain about her and Draco before Easter or when she arrived there. Maybe soon, since she already felt bad that she had lied about where she was staying over Christmas.
"I've already owled my mother about not being there, and she didn't say anything against it," Hermione said, smiling a little. "In fact, she forbade me from coming home when I said that I would."
"But a whole break spent with the Malfoys? Hermione, they hate you more than anything," Ron said, pushing himself off the wall. He walked over to Harry and sat down next to him. "Your entire time over there is going to be Hell. I won't be surprised if they try to kill you – or if they succeed."
Harry glared at him and muttered something about unhelpful comments and confidence boosting, while Hermione's fake smile slowly turned into a real one. "How motivational, Ronald," she said sarcastically.
She looked at both of them with what she hoped was complete and utter seriousness and the amusement on their faces quickly slipped away when they saw how the conversation had changed. Inwardly, she sighed in relief that she had succeeded in portraying that she was serious about what she was going to say, instead of her true feelings of nervousness and uncertainty. She couldn't say that it was Ron's fault that these feelings had been brought on, because they were there even before they arrived at her door – but she could blame him for making the insecurities more prominent.
She just hoped that her voice wasn't going to give her away. She took a deep breath.
"I am going to be fine. Trust me. They're not going to try to kill me – if I die, then Draco will too and despite how much they may hate me, they love their son. And their son, who, should I remind you, is a Veela and loves me-"
They both groaned childishly, as if they had high doubts that their childhood enemy, Draco Malfoy, was capable of feeling an emotion as strong as love. Harry and Ron looked at each other, giving looks that conveyed exactly what they thought of such an absurd idea – and looks that showed how much they still hated the boy. Hermione continued on speaking despite wanting to stop lecturing them on her safety at Malfoy Manor and start on how they should let go of their idea of the old Draco and get used to the thought of them together, because she was positive that they were going to be with one another for the long run. Merlin knew that everyone else had seen enough of her and Draco everywhere to be over whatever was going on between them – they should be too.
"-would rather die than even see me cry. Do you really think he'd let anything happen? Besides, you both know I'm there; if I die...well, it'd be obvious who it was and they'd be in Azkaban. Don't you think that the Malfoys are more intelligent than that?"
The words even sounded weak to her own ears.
"I suppose so," Harry said grudgingly.
Well, at least the people she needed to convince believed what she said.
He stood up from the bed and walked over to where she was standing and kissed her cheek. Ron followed soon after. "You won't stay there if they do put you through Hell, will you? I mean, they might not be able to murder you, but they can still-"
She smiled and pulled them both in for a hug, cutting him off. Hermione didn't need to have any other of her fears voiced aloud. Moreover, whether she let him continue or not, she knew, ultimately, what Harry was going to say. It was true - there were plenty of other things that they could do other than kill her that would effectively convey their hate for her, what she stood for, and the fact that she was going to be damaging their well-kept pure-blood line. It'd be the subtle things that would bother her most - the side-long glances and sneers – the things that she couldn't out rightly challenge, because she was sure that they'd be extra careful that Draco didn't catch their looks. And she didn't want to make Draco choose whose word he trusted more, over what could be mere paranoia on her part. The snide remarks (if any), however, would probably be kept to the minimum with Draco's hearing, added to the fact that he most likely wouldn't leave her side for long; but she already felt cautious of any other attempt that would make her time Hell.
"I can take care of myself just fine," she spoke into their chests. "Have a little faith."
She couldn't entirely remember what had happened or what was said between the three of them when she went to go speak to them some time last week while Draco was locked in his room, but she was just glad that they were friends again. Truth be told, it had gone on for so long that she felt that she had forgotten what had made them so mad at her in the first place.
They pulled away and Ron and Harry just stared at her. They then averted their eyes to look around her room, at her half-full trunk lying on her bed, at the door, and then back at her. She looked at them for the most part, taking them all in and committing what they looked like to memory so that whenever she closed her eyes, their image would be burned to the inside of her eyelids. It seemed as if there was nothing left to say for any of them, but of course, there would always be things to say.
"Well, we better be leaving now, 'Mione. Before Malfoy comes back here. You were unconscious, so you don't know – but I remember what he did to me in potions. And I've heard what he did to that Ravenclaw boy and the waiter in Madam Puddifoot's," Ron said, focusing his eyes back on her. Hermione blushed at looked away from them both, knowing that there wasn't any particularly good reason for it that they'd want to hear. After what felt like too long, he said, "We'll probably come back tomorrow before you leave to say proper goodbyes."
If they were thinking of any cutting remarks or totalling reasons to convince her not to stay with him, then they didn't indicate it or say anything.
Hermione nodded and followed them as they headed towards the door to let themselves out.
"But in case we miss you or can't find you on the train," Harry said turning around in the doorway and looking at her. "Don't forget to owl us while you're over there and tell us all about the kind of fun that is in Malfoy Manor."
"Of course, Harry. As long as you two owl back," she said.
"We will this time," Ron promised. "George still isn't the same as he used to be, so this Christmas will be pretty calm. Or with minimum pranks. Charlie is staying with the dragons in Romania because of some emergency, and Bill is staying with Fleur's family in France this year." He grinned and Hermione's heart clenched. Oh how much she missed it. How much she will miss it over Christmas. "We'll be bored enough to return your owls."
"I feel honoured, thank you Ronald." She gently nudged them out the door, needing to return to her packing so that she could finish before tomorrow. Just before the door closed behind them, they called back that they'd miss her and that they were glad they were back being friends again.
She smiled softly, her eyes beginning to prickle with tears, and she suddenly wanted them back to take her mind off whatever was going to transpire tomorrow. The door was already closed by then though, and their footsteps had thudded down the stairs, too far away from her room to call anything back to them; but, if the nature of their friendship hadn't changed at all, then she was sure that they knew her response.
She also wondered whether they knew that she didn't completely believe that her time over at Malfoy Manor wasn't going to be hard and was just going along with what she said to humour her.
Still, Draco had guessed earlier on in the week that she was probably a little worried about the upcoming meeting and been telling her that he trusted them and that they too were trying to change, trying to accept this change in their lifestyle and the many others that were sure to come from their pairing. To her, it sounded almost as if she was forcing the change onto them and that it would've never come around if it wasn't for her being Draco's Mate – but despite how bitter they may be about it, she couldn't feel any form of guilt for them.
Nevertheless, despite him recognising that she was a bit worried, he had only thought it was that – a bit of worry. He reassured her briefly, thinking that she was her normal, brave, Gryffindor self; and it had worked for that time, but later on when she was lying awake with her thoughts, it turned out not to be enough.
Even him adopting the nickname "little lioness" or "my Gryffindor" didn't instil any sense of bravery or courage.
"What a beautiful day it is," Draco said jovially as he stared at the snowflakes falling and sticking to the window of their carriage. "Classically December."
He looked back at Hermione, who had her nose buried in a book that she had brought with her as a way to pass time on the train and didn't seem to recognise that he had said anything, and rolled his eyes.
"It's as if a blanket has been put over the countryside," he tried again, no longer looking out the window but at her. As she wriggled in her seat, Draco wondered whether she could feel his eyes on her. "No wonder many poets have written about snow; it's wonderful. I could stare at it all day."
She barely lifted her head up to look at him as she said dryly, "You won't be able to if you sit as close as you are to it. You'll fog up the window."
He grinned lopsidedly, feeling triumphant that he had finally managed to get her to say something to him since she opened her book and began reading. Looking discreetly at his pocket watch, he worked out that that had been over 3 hours ago – the same that the train had begun to leave the station. Even on their walk on the way down to the platform she was unusually quiet, though she didn't brush off any show of affection or any gesture that he bestowed upon her. He thought that it was odd and, while he knew that she was somewhat uneasy of staying at the Manor, he didn't think that she was that anxious. She was his brave Gryffindor, way more fearless than he could ever be – nothing bad was going to happen to her, so why all the worry?
So what he was trying to do now, was to draw her into a conversation enough to distract her or calm her down as much as he could before asking her what he worries were and leaving them in ruins soon after. Call it long winded, but if she was ignoring his current hard efforts to do small talk, then he doubted that she would stop ignoring what he was saying if he began with asking what she was tense over. He didn't even know what could be so incredibly interesting in the heavy tome that would cause her to ignore him in favour of continuing to stare at what was probably incredibly small writing.
Admittedly, some of his attempts of drawing her into conversation were terribly pathetic (so pathetic that he didn't even want to recall those particular topics), and so in true British fashion, his last resort was talking about the weather – and, luckily for him, because he was truly out of anything else to speak about, she had responded. He pushed himself to sit up more so that he could see her face - which was mostly covered by her blasted book - more. His head was filled with such glee and triumph for succeeding in turning her attention away from a book and to himself (which must've been a first in history, for many must have tried and failed to distracted the Hermione Granger from a book) that all he could say was something cheesy in a true love-struck manner. "There are other stunning views to stare at that won't fog up," he said.
"You're hilarious, Malfoy," she muttered, pushing one of his legs off their shared seat. He only chuckled, seeing a faint blush on her cheeks, and swung his other leg down from the cushioned bench to stretch out on the floor in front of him; then readjusted her legs so that they were now stretched across his lap.
He waited a few moments in bored silence before slowly edging Hermione's school shoes off her feet. After the first one came off, he turned his head imperceptibly to see if she had noticed or had any problem against what he was doing. He watched her for a while to see if she wanted to finish a sentence or a paragraph before she addressed his antics, and then when she seemed not to be continuing to pay his presence much mind, he took her other shoe off just as slowly. Next to come off were her socks, and still nothing had been said to him; the only reaction to the disappearance of her socks, were her toes curling inwards due to the cold. After allowing them to flex a couple of times to become used to being free from their confines, he gently began to massage her feet, one foot at a time.
With everything that had happened the past few weeks (mainly because of him, he had to grudgingly admit) – their argument that lasted for over a fortnight itself and then, recently, his mystery illness that had rendered him incapable of much – he had barely gotten a lot of time to just hold her and relax, and help her relax. It'd been a while since he'd done something just for her, without any of his interests having a part in it.
Actually, he thought, pausing in his ministrations for a moment, have I ever done something just for her? He racked his brain for an answer; anything that he had done just for her without any of his best interests, without wanting anything to come out of it. Draco found that he could think of nothing over the time that they had been together, and even before that – apart from the time when he had comforted her when she had cried during the story of her deceased father. Even then, it had felt as if it wasn't truly him that had said or done all those things, as if it was someone else.
He hated himself. Here he was, a half-Veela that was constantly saying that he'd do anything for her, anything to make her happy as if he were the most selfless person, when in actual fact he was the best at acting selfless when being selfish.
Moving his deft fingers to weave in between her toes and massaging there with renewed vigour to please her as best as he could at that moment, and looked over to her as he noticed her little sighs and slow breathing for the first time since he started. He allowed himself a little smile of satisfaction as he noticed how hard she was trying to stay concentrated on her book despite her want to succumb to the relaxation– or sleep, if her drooping eyes were anything to go by.
He considered the foot massage to be a success in drawing her away from books during the train ride when she closed her book and laid it on the floor beside her. She then wiggled a bit to settle more into the seat and closed her eyes, releasing a pleasured sigh.
"If you're going to continue to persist with trying to start a conversation," she said softly, half opening her eyes to look at him. "Then I would like to hear the story of how you became so good at massages."
He thought she looked beautiful, half-asleep and half-awake, with a light red tint of colour on her cheeks – but, then again, she always looked beautiful. Draco looked away from her and instead watched the movement of his hands as he tried to recall such a mundane story. He wanted her to speak to him, yes, but he wasn't prepared for her to ask him to speak of something that was so dull and part of something that he'd carelessly done in his past. Something that he would rather she remained unaware of, if only because of what she might think of him. "It's not that interesting a story, I'm afraid. I'm not sure what kind of thing you were expecting me to retell," he said.
"I was expecting a thrilling adventure featuring The Great Draco Malfoy, who was taken to Sweden to be trained by the most prestigious masseuses to be able to satisfy any woman. However, along the way he encountered many obstacles, creating a tale of heartbreak and betrayal," she said teasingly. "Honestly, I wasn't anything expecting anything exciting. How exciting could a story about foot massages be?"
He smiled a little, embarrassed. Draco relented then, deciding that it was probably easiest to go along with what she wanted to talk about since nothing else had caught her attention. After all, he supposed that what he had done before his Inheritance didn't really matter anymore and since the whole school knew about all his girlfriends, he assumed that Hermione must've heard the rumours surrounding him much as anyone else.
"Alright," he said slowly, "well. It was actually just through a lot of practice. Generally, balls aren't really my thing and so during each and every one I have been forced to go to, starting when I was a teenager, I have either tried to get horrendously drunk or laid. Usually, both." He cleared his throat and Hermione opened her eyes to see a blush rise up from his neck; she smirked slightly at his behaviour. Draco mumbled the rest of his story after that, his voice ever so slowly getting huskier as he described what could be done. "Massaging the feet of witches who had sore feet from being in heels all night was quite effective, if you know the right spots to rub and press, or where the particular spots to lick and suck are. Then, you'd be able to turn the simple task of massaging feet to give pleasure to multiple girls who were more than willing to sleep with the richest pure-blood heir. "
To Draco's surprise and great relief, Hermione laughed quietly and he bashfully glanced at her from the corner of his eye. As soon as he had finished speaking, he regretted saying as much as he had done; telling her just how he managed to conned girls into sleeping with him wasn't part of his plan at all." Oh what fun pure-blood balls sound!" She said amusedly, closing her eyes once again and yawning. "Tell me about them. What happens? What are they like? What do people wear?"
"Whatever you want to know, I'll tell you; but don't you fall asleep, Hermione Granger. Balls are a great part of pure-blood tradition and having been happening for centuries. Every great family from across Europe are invited; this is a very serious matter," he said mockingly, peppering her feet with ticklish kisses, making her giggle. He hoped that her curiosity about the balls wasn't so large that she would listen to him and fight to stay awake to hear what he had to say about it all. She was tired; he could hear it in her voice and even knew for a fact that she didn't sleep last night, because she never showed up in their dream.
"But, all joking aside," he drawled, placing lingering, open-mouthed kisses from her ankle up to her knee. "You haven't given me nearly enough attention today." She bolted up from her lying position and whacked him on the arm, glaring at him when she saw his wicked grin.
Her nose scrunched up and her mouth turned down into a frown as she took in his mischievous face. "I thought you said that you were done with your jokes," she said haughtily, causing him to chuckle. He reached out and tugged her towards him, to which she grudgingly complied to do, moving her legs off his lap and crawling over on her knees to kneel on the seat next to him. "I've given you lots of attention this morning anyway," she continued saying. "You couldn't possibly-"
She was cut off with an "oomph" as Draco leaned up slightly and silenced her with a kiss, weaving his hand in her curls and holding her head in place so that he didn't have a lot of distance to close between them. She wasn't surprised for long, and quickly began to move her mouth with his, tasting each other's tongues and exploring all the crevices in their mouths, trying their hardest (as if it was some sort of competition) to elicit gasps, moans or whimpers from each other. Unlike the other times they had kissed where it had been frenzied, bruising and passionate, this time Draco was making it purposely slow and lingering, almost making Hermione whimper each time he pulled away. After a moment, he pulled away and grabbed her hand to place kisses on that. "As a spoiled little pure-blood brat, who was an only child, I expect to have your attention all of the time," he said, fairly breathy.
"I suppose that rude interruption just proves that," she said, smiling. "With all your charm, you had almost made me forget." She repositioned herself so that her legs were once again lying over his lap and she was pressed up against his side, as his arm wrapped around her. "But anyway, you do always have my attention-"
"-Unless you're reading a book or doing homework," he said, interrupting her with a grin. He then paused shortly and pouted. "You won't even let me feed you when we eat in the Common Room. I want to take care of you."
She patted his cheek with fake sympathy. "Ah, but that's because I'm not incapable of looking after myself. However, yes, you may not be centre of attention when I'm busy doing those things, but-"
"-I'm never the centre of attention when you're doing those things."
"Well maybe it's because you like the sound of your own voice too much," she said snootily. "You keep on interrupting me whenever I try to speak to you. Hadn't you just spent the past hour trying to get me to join a conversation? Now you're pushing me out of it."
Ah, Draco thought, so she had noticed and was just ignoring me. His lips twitched into a smirk.
"Okay, okay." He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. But, I just had to correct you on that. I was incapable of not doing so."
"Tough; because now," she said as she yawned, causing Draco's smirk to turn into an adoring smile. "I think I'm going to go to sleep. Entertain yourself for a few hours."
Hermione settled her head onto his shoulder and closed her eyes as Draco hummed his acknowledgement and rested his head lightly on top of hers. "Rightly so," he muttered. "That was what I actually wanted to talk to you about once I succeeded in getting you to join a conversation. How long were you up last night, worrying and fretting over pointless things?"
"Why go through all of that trouble? You could have just asked me," she said, just as softly, eyes still shut. Draco didn't feel like interrupting her to tell her that he knew better than that – he knew her better than that - and that's why he didn't just start off like that; he had waited patiently to ask his question and now that he was about to get an answer, he wasn't going to stop the flow of the story. "Besides, they weren't pointless things. Your parents hate me - and my kind! You all were once Death Eaters, the very people I fought against; I was tortured for information in one of the rooms in your Manor by your aunt. I...I can't help but be troubled by the thought that maybe nothing's changed at all. Not to say that you aren't awfully different from when we first met all those years ago and that you've changed even more in the past few months, but...what of your parents? I'm sorry. I'm just afraid-"
As she continued, she slowly started to sound more hysterical, until Draco calmly shushed her and pressed her closer to his body as if she could somehow become him. He thought that she mumbled something that vaguely sounded like "you did it again" and he only repeated his previous phrase of that he was "incapable of not doing so."
His eyebrows drew together and he said, "Alright. Okay. Not pointless at all," he said absently. Draco's arm had tightened around her waist, his hand now lying on her stomach and tracing lazy, calming circles over her clothes. His other hand was tapping his fingers to a seemingly random tune on the seat's cushion. Hermione thought that either he nuzzled his head against hers or he shook it, as if to clear his thoughts; and then he spoke again, this time sounding more focused on what he was saying. "My parent's and I have already spoken about this and where their beliefs lay, and that they should never use any degrading terms for Muggle-borns again – or at least in your presence. They lost the War; you were the ones to win. It's time to rejoin society with the appropriate terms and outlooks and clean up our name before it's ruined even more. For all they care, right now, 'our name is muddier than your blood.'"
Straight after he said it, he had to clarify quickly that he had just quoted his father, worried that Hermione was going to take it in offence and be angry or upset at him for something that wasn't his personal thoughts. She didn't seem ruffled by the comment either way, and sleepily told him that she understood, trying to force herself to stay awake. He told her that she shouldn't worry about listening to what he was blathering on about; that he'd rather she caught up on sleep before they arrived at the Manor. She laughed and told him that that was completely opposite to what he was saying to her a minute ago when she asked him to talk about pure-blood balls.
"Sleep, little lioness. Your wellbeing is much more important that whatever I could say. There'll be things to do when we get home, things you'll want to be more than half-awake to do."
She didn't verbally respond to him, so he continued to speak in calming tones.
"They won't hurt you with words or physically about your blood status or anything else, if only because they risk losing their only son and heir. I won't hesitate to defend you to them if you ever feel insulted by something they say or do. I won't stand for anyone who makes you feel anything less than human; anyone who denies your right to live; or questions your right to be a witch."
He waited a few moments; breathing in her scent calmly, savouring it, and listening to her own breathing that was now slow and even. She had indeed fallen asleep.
He kept his head resting against hers and moved the hand that was lying on the cushion next to him onto Hermione's knee, lightly holding it, so that he could feel that she was still there, and closed his eyes.
Draco woke up when the train stopped due to the sudden increase of noise from the students getting off the train and being received by their parents or other relatives. He looked around himself and the compartment tiredly, seeing that everything was just as it was when he went to sleep, and stretched as much as he could without jostling Hermione too much, who was still sleeping soundly with her hand tightly gripping his robes.
He blinked a couple of times to clear the sleepy haze from his mind and yawned. He'd rather stay in this position, asleep, in their compartment for an hour or two more and wished that everyone on the train could be a least a little bit quiet, so that they didn't wake his Mate.
But alas, none of that was currently a possibility.
Yawning once more, he tightened his grip around her waist and checked that her head wasn't going to be lolling about when he stood up, moving it gently so that it rested instead on his chest. He slid his other arm under her legs and stood up with her in his arms, and carefully carried her out onto the platform.
Once there, he looked around for the driver that the Ministry had loaned to them to drive the Ministry car, since neither his mother nor his father could – and he doubted that they would ever seek to learn. He found the driver fairly quickly as he was a large brick-wall of a man who was standing alone towards the back of the platform, frowning as if this was a waste of his time. Draco hugged Hermione closer to himself as he made his way over to the man dressed in black.
"I suppose you're Mr Malfoy," the man asked gruffly. His eyes flicked down to Hermione's unconscious body and lingered there for a moment, before deciding that addressing the situation would use up more of his time. Draco resisted the urge to snarl at him.
"Of course," he said aloofly. He then looked around at the floor around the driver and then back up at him; he arrogantly said, "Well? Aren't you going to get the luggage? That's two trunks, and then you need to collect a bag from compartment 145 and meet us both at the Ministry car. I assume it's outside this station, correct?"
The man grunted and moved to shove past him, but Draco quickly ambled out of the way, knowing that an impact like that would be sure to wake Hermione up. He quickly snapped a scathing insult after the wall of muscle and stood tall when he turned his head and gave him a look that said "you-made-it-onto-my-to-kill-list". Draco had forgotten how powerful and good he felt when giving commands and being able to get away with it without any repercussions because he was superior, but the look that he was sent reminded him of how dangerous it could be.]
And it wasn't good having people hell-bent on doing things to hurt him when he had Hermione to protect.
He peppered kisses across her face and gently called her name in between them. She slowly started to wake up and seemed quite confused about where she was for a moment, and then trying to snuggle her head back into his chest and go back to sleep. He smiled and nudged her awake again and explained to her that they were already in Wiltshire. "We're going to be home in about 10 minutes, little lioness," he said softly. "It's time you wake up; being asleep on your first formal meeting isn't a good impression."
"Home?" She echoed sleepily. "It's not my home; it's not our home. We don't have a home yet." She rubbed her eyes and yawned, curling back into his side. She hummed in content and closed her eyes.
He kissed the tip of her nose. "No, not yet," he agreed. Draco sat her back up, much to her displeasure, and tapped her face with an adoring smile to wake her up again. She slapped his hand away and crossed her arms grumpily, staring out of the window at the passing countryside.
Most of it was covered in a thick layer of snow however, but it was still one of the most beautiful images she had ever seen. Draco was looking out her window too, his chin resting atop her head and his hand weighing heavily on her leg. "But... It will be our home in the future. It can't hurt to start looking at it as ours," he murmured. His hand moved up from her leg to rest on her stomach, drumming them to the same rhythm as he was doing on the train. "If I'm still alive, I own the house as soon as you, my dear, are pregnant – with my child, of course. We'll live there one day Bonded, married, with hordes and hordes of children running around."
He bent his head down to kiss a patch of skin on her neck that wasn't covered by her jumper anymore, and contently let his lips linger there for a few moments. His fingers and toes began to tingle in a familiar fashion causing him to frown, confused; he wasn't supposed to be slipping away into his Veela. He'd mastered controlling it. Nevertheless, just in case, he placed one last kiss on her neck and then pulled away to rest his chin on her head again.
Hermione was inwardly surprised that she had no reaction to him so casually talking about them living together in the Manor or about her being pregnant with his children. Her face hadn't even warmed in embarrassment. She turned her head to look up at him, and he had to lift his head from where he had it to look down at her properly. His eyebrows drew together and she only belatedly realised that her eyes were slightly teary and all she was doing was staring at him. She grinned at him, wiping away the tears before they fell, and he smiled slowly back. He leaned his forehead against hers, still looking a little puzzled, and they just stared and breathed each other in. "You okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yes. I'm fine," she said thickly. She wondered whether this was the right moment to tell him that she did want all of what he had said, and that she wanted him and that she loved him – she wanted to say it all. It seemed as if everything had paused and waited for her to say it, and she had opened her mouth to do so – but it was at that moment the man driving the car decided to speak.
"We're here," he said gruffly, turning the car to park outside the beginning of the yew hedges. It looked like there was still quite a bit of a walk to go to reach the entrance of the Manor, but it didn't seem like he was going to be going any further as he parked.
Draco pulled quickly away from her to glare at him, looking irritated and perplexed about why he wouldn't drive up the path to what looked like a wrought iron fence. He, however, didn't question the man and, grumbling to himself, withdrew his hand from Hermione's stomach to open her door and usher her out. As she exited, he fished about in his robes for a pouch of Galleons and deposited the correct amount of money on the backseat, before following her out. He took his trunk out from the boot and then after a moment of looking between Hermione's face and her own trunk lying at her feet, shut the boot and grabbed her case to begin walking up the driveway.
She huffed and followed after him, hurrying to catch up as he stormed off. There was a screeching noise behind her as the taxi revved its engine and drove away down the dirt-beaten track and into the distance. Hermione looked up at the foreboding building that rose up into the sky in front of her, and the tall walls of hedge on either side of her, thinking of the low escape chance this place must've held.
"I'm perfectly capable-" she said when she caught up to him.
"-Of course you are," he grunted, adjusting his grip on the handles. "But, trust me – this is a long walk for carrying something as heavy and bulky as this." She only rolled her eyes and he smirked, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "Besides, I won't look very gentlemanly now, will I? If I let you carry this all by yourself."
"You are so embarrassing!"Hermione said in a hushed voice as she trudged up the many stairs to the first floor in front of Draco. She tugged on her hair, mortified tremendously. "I can't believe that you just said that!"
"Oh come on Hermione," he said reasonably, dragging the luggage up behind him. "They're my parents; they aren't going to care. Father probably did it when he was our age! Merlin, my mother probably said things like that too! Bloody hell, it wasn't as if I was giving any extremely personal information!"
"God, they're going to think I turned their son into a sap," she mumbled, pressing her hand to her forehead to warn off a stress-induced headache.
"Hermione," Draco said.
She ignored him.
They reached the top of the staircase and, though she didn't know where she was supposed to be going, after looking down both ends, she moved towards and went down the left hallway. Draco quickly moved after her, the trunks bumping against his leg.
"'What happened to you? You used to be a Death Eater!' They're going to say. Bloody hell, they're going to hate me-"
"Hermione," he tried again, but she continued rambling off about how much of an embarrassment he had been and how she might not ever be able to clear the memory of their smirks and Lucius' scowl and how she'd never be able to look at them the same. They'd never look at her the same.
She was so wrapped up in her overdramatic tirade - which she was taking a lot of care to keep quiet despite Draco having a feeling that his father could hear, and that she was only worsening her embarrassment, however small – that she almost screamed when he dropped the cases and pushed her into the nearest room.
He quickly cast Silencing Charms and shut the door behind him. "Shut up, will you?" He said, pressing a hand over her mouth and looking at her imploringly, though his eyes were faintly amused. "Is it really that bad? I'm not that bad, am I?" He moved his hand from her mouth to cup her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. Draco nudged her nose with his and she tried to stop from smiling. "Tell me I'm not that bad, Hermione."
"You're pretty bad," she said. "Pretty embarrassing."
He rolled his eyes and pouted. "I thought you didn't mind my pet names. You've never said anything about it before. I like them; they can be sexy-"
"I know...But your parents-"
"Really, Hermione, it's fine-"
"It's like snogging in front of your family, who I've only just met properly. I'd rather them not have that image in their heads and keep some things between us-"
"Nothing's wrong. If anything, I should be the one embarrassed – not you. I used to be quite the arse, after all, and now I'm coming out with things like 'Little Lioness' and being distracted by your voice and the way you look, and the way you feel..." He rattled off, not fully registering what she had said before him. Draco brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled slowly as he paused and understood what she had been saying.
His hand now moved to cup the back of her neck and pressed his lips to hers, as if he was trying to savour the touch but was too desperate for the taste that it turned quick and bruising. "So I suppose we won't be leaving our room a lot, then," he said huskily when he pulled away. "What a shame..."
Hermione blushed, but put her finger on his lips as he moved forward to kiss her again. She felt him grin. "But no more pet names, please? Promise me."
His lips enclosed around her finger and lightly nipped it. "Anything you want, princess." She pulled her hand away and gently pushed him away, smiling. "Besides, Hermione, did you see the way they looked at us? They like you. I bet that tomorrow they'll want to meet with you. That's good, isn't it?" He said optimistically, grinning at her as he picked up the trunks again. "You were so worried that they weren't."
"I...Well, I suppose so," she said happily, forcing the smile to stay on her face. In truth, she still wasn't convinced that they thought any more of her.
It was as if Draco hadn't even been in the same room as her. Whose face had he seen? When she had been introduced to them at the doorstep as "Hermione Granger, my little lioness" by Draco (to her utter horror), she watched their (Narcissa's, mainly) tightly pressed lips pull into what appeared to look like a forced smirk. Then when Draco had turned his eyes to look appraisingly at her as she shook their offered hands, she saw both of their faces falter as they took her in, slow witted from her sleep, nervous and paranoid about this very moment. Their hands were cold and their grip tight and firm on hers, as if they were trying to see how hard they could squeeze before she was affected.
It was when they moved out of the way to allow them to pass through first, his mother talking excitedly about seeing her son again ("and oh, of course, how could I forget about how long I've spent thinking about your Mate and what she looks like now, Draco darling?") that she caught sight of Lucius' scowl behind her. She doubted that Draco had seen it too with how caught up in polite conversation he was with his mother, but he had pulled her closer to him as he pretended to find a place to set the luggage down with her accompanying him. She had then found herself escorted to a large, black straight-backed chair that Lucius seemed to have been making his way to, but had a change of mind as he glanced quickly in their direction, and smoothly continued walking to sit next to his wife. "Take what you can and give nothing back," Draco had breathed hotly in her ear, so quiet she had barely heard, as he guided her to sit in the chair and then said only a bit louder, "you're a guest." He had then moved around to stand behind her, as if to guard her.
Perhaps he had changed his mind about their actions now, or perhaps he was just lying to ease her mind.
He took her hand and led her out of the room and back into the hallway. "Alright, now we've got to go the long way to our room because of you. Try to remember the way; it can get very complicated if you take a wrong turn.
His nose ghosted along the column of her neck, his tongue tasting her skin at what seemed like random intervals. His legs were on either side of her, and his hands sensually ran from her hipbones, over her thighs, and back again. His chest was pressed against her back, and she felt the deep vibration through her core whenever he spoke or growled. With him pressed so close to her, she was beginning to feel unbearably hot and her mind was beginning to cloud her concentration with the scent of him. And, to top it all off, his ministrations were continuous and incessant – it was becoming hard to ignore him.
He began to nip her neck and Hermione spun around to face him, her hands pressing against his chest in a weak attempt to put distance between them. "This has to stop," she said breathily, but with a firm edge to her voice. He only looked at her as if she was joking and bent his head back down to her neck. She could feel him smile against the skin at her words, and she unconsciously she tilted her head to the side to give him better access to her neck, which he immediately made use of. "We were supposed to go down for dinner ages ago. What will your parents think?"
"It's only been 10 minutes, Granger. We'll have all three meals tomorrow as a family if it makes you feel better. None of us will be late and it'll be filled with nice, mindless chatter." He bit her neck a bit roughly at that point and she moaned slightly at the pain and recoiled. He moved with her and licked the sore patch he had created, trying to soothe the sting. "I'm sorry," he muttered.
"But, really, I think we should go. If only for a little- Malfoy," she groaned as he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, and licked behind her ear. She tried to suppress a shiver.
She didn't hear his growl so much as felt it on her back. He began to gather her up and reposition her so that she was straddling his lap and facing him so that he could place his hot kisses upon her lips. His hands rested on her waist, brushing his thumbs over her hips, though they didn't stay there for long. One of his hands – Hermione couldn't tell; could barely remember what her life was like before he ever came into his Inheritance – knotted itself in her hair, pulling her closer (if it were even possible) towards him. Still, Hermione was able to force words out of her mouth between breaths. "No, stop. Not now." She managed to gain her coherent thought back long enough to pull back and stop him from continuing to attack her bruised lips as he leaned forward again. Her stomach was twisting from not having eaten anything yet, and though Draco was very good at distracting her, this was something that needed to be addressed sooner rather than later.
She was about to tell him that they were going to dinner now, and that if he didn't come with her now she was going to try and free one of his House-Elves again, but he just tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and grinned. He moved her to sit on the bed and crawled off so that he knelt in front of her, giving her some sense of power by being shorter than she was for the moment. Confused, she only stared at him curiously as he looked at her as if he was about to let her in on some big secret.
He rested his hands on his lap and let out a breathy chuckle. "Trust me Granger; I don't want this right now either. I mean, normally I would but – You didn't feel anything, did you?" Hermione's face turned darker as she shook her head, breaking eye contact.
Bloody hell, she thought, is he talking about what I think he is? Oh God no, no.
Hermione was about to tell him that they've already had this conversation, and wondered how he could not remember, but was quickly reminded of the fact that he didn't remember anything that the Veela had said or done. And besides that, Draco had quickly started talking again before she could interrupt his explanation.
"But, of course, that's not to say that I don't want to. Merlin I do, Hermione. It's just..." He searched frantically for a good way to phrase it, and all Hermione wanted to do was stop him and save him from the embarrassment of her telling him that she already knew. However, he still didn't give her enough time to do that, and all but blurted out, "Veela thing. Bonding first and then...bonding later." He winked straight after the second "bonding", which he probably felt was all Hermione needed to tell the difference between the two.
Smirking herself, she reached down and placing her hands on both of his cheeks, said, "I know.
His eyes widened almost comically and he drew back from her a little bit. "You know?" He asked, utterly convinced that he must've heard her incorrectly. "How on earth do you know? There's no possible way that you could. This is common sense to Veelas; there's been no need for it to be written down. It's instinctual. It's instinct – instinct doesn't get written down, that's just a waste. How-"
She laughed at how flustered he was getting and didn't even put up a fight when he pinned her down on the bed and began tickling her, making her laugh even harder. Once she began getting breathless and squealing, however, she began to push and kick at him as best she could, but he barely budged and only continued to ask her how she knew. She didn't answer (or more like couldn't, with how hard she was laughing and whining at him to stop), so he continued until she began to get snappy and decided to stop, and just collapsed on top of her.
After a while of lying there, Hermione said, "I still think we need to go down for dinner."
Draco, with his face still buried in her hair, barely moved his face from where it was as he snapped his fingers and called out for Wispy. He quickly relayed some muffled orders to the House-Elf that had immediately appeared, before Hermione had a chance to start on slavery. "There," he said, curling back into her once the Elf left, "we can eat in here."
Only seconds later, Wispy reappeared with two plates of food, which Draco had to, grudgingly, take from its hands at Hermione's insistence, when all he wanted to do was continue to lie there for a while longer. He dismissed his Elf to bring them some wine, and walked them both over to a small table and chairs that he had in his room and set the plates down. With a wave of his hand, he dimmed the lighting in his room and pulled out her chair to sit on, ordering Wispy to pour them wine as he pushed Hermione's chair in and seated himself.
"Nothing but the absolute best," Draco said proudly, raising his glass and taking a sip.
I can tell, Hermione thought as she stared at the meal set out before her. Every year for her mother's birthday, she remembered, they would go out to her favourite restaurant and eat there, and looking back, the fancy four-star food that was served was the only thing that she could compare to what was sitting in front of her. It wasn't anything that Molly Weasley would probably cook at one of her family get-togethers, though this had easily had hours preparation spent on it and by many House-Elves. "Looks like it," she said, picking up her knife and fork. She looked at Draco who was just staring at her, glass still pressed to his lips, and grinning. "Well, I wouldn't want it to go cold. What are we eating?"
He looked down at his plate and frowned. "I have no fucking idea, but it smells like the House-Elves have tried to cook pork with onion and apple velouté again, which means," he said, pouring himself some more wine and nodding towards her glass, "that we're going to need to be drunk to get through this disaster."
"Oh don't be ridiculous Draco, it smells delicious," Hermione berated him, cutting up some of the food for herself. Draco just scoffed into his glass.
"If you get food poisoning, I get to baby you, and feed you from now on," he said, colour beginning to rise on his pale cheeks.
"If you had everything your way, you'd even breathe for me," she muttered. He gave her an unimpressed look having heard what she said, but she only smiled back.
In the middle of the night she had woken and after slipping out of Draco's grasp that was looser than usual, since he had passed out, drunk, she had wandered his room to discover that he had a balcony.
This was where she was, sitting on said balcony and looking up at the stars that littered the sky, many more that she was used to seeing at her own home in the city. It had been cold out, but that was easily solved by a few warming charms. Draco was still snoring softly, stretched out on his bed, and she smiled at the sight of him. She'd probably go back there at some point, maybe early morning, but she wasn't finished star gazing yet and trying to find out what was making that annoying bird-like noise close to the house.
From her sleep on the train and in the car, she wasn't tired at all. Yet, there was hardly anything that she could do at this time, and in a house that she didn't know and she was bored. It seemed better, after all, just to sleep, where she'd be able to speak with Draco for the rest of the night in their dream landscape.
She stayed out for what felt like a few more hours, before she had to quickly run in from the heavy downpour that had suddenly started. Hermione had closed the doors quietly and sat down by them; looking through the glass and listening to the rain nosily hit the ground, and watched as it began to wash away bits of snow. She didn't know when she had fallen asleep or how long she'd been unconscious, listening to the constant melody of the storm, especially since she hadn't gone to their dream landscape for a reason she could not comprehend at that moment, but she was awoken by a loud roar of her name.
She wasn't entirely aware of what was going on, having only just been pulled out of slumber, but whoever had called her name had sounded very urgent and she awoke with a start, her hand immediately going to where her back pocket of her jeans would be, looking for her wand. Other reflexes left over from the War caused her to jump to her feet and looked around for the person who had shouted her name.
"Hermione! Hermione, where are you?" They called.
Hermione had a flashback to the War environment of everyone calling someone else's name, shouting spells, and warning others from them. Brothers calling out for brothers, sisters for sisters, and other family members running around desperately hoping that they don't see someone they knew in the dead pile of bodies. Was she there now? She couldn't remember, all she knew that someone was trying to find her, wherever she was, before something bad happened. Maybe she was back in that drawing room in the Manor, being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange; she did distinctly remember her name being called in the same panicked manner...
Her hand unconsciously drifted to the mudblood engraving on her forearm.
The room would've been pitch black, if it were not for the moonlight streaming in through the window and illuminating the only other figure in the room, scrambling clumsily off his 4-poster bed and moving quickly towards her.
He was muttering something she couldn't understand, and even as he got closer, she still couldn't make out any definite words, but she easily saw the relief in his face. She watched as he, still drowsy from sleep, stumbled towards her; his eyes, which she saw were now black, glinted in the full moon. His wings, something she had only seen a few times before were outstretched behind him, and were looking whiter than she remembered. Still, Hermione didn't spend a lot of time focusing on only him; she was continuing to sweep the room with her eyes for any sign of disturbance or reason for why her name had been yelled so loudly. She, however, could not find one.
Her heart was beating erratically, her senses still prepared for a fight or flight reaction, and when a sudden flash of light lit up the room, followed by a booming rumble in the sky, she all but threw herself into his waiting arms. Draco wasted no time in pulling her tightly to his chest and encasing her in his wings, making calming noises as she clutched at his bare skin and whimpered. He stroked her hair, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her back to his bed, whispering the whole time, "I'm sorry. Oh Merlin, I'm sorry for scaring you. Hermione, oh Merlin, I'm sorry. Bloody hell, I thought you had vanished, I was so scared."
A/N - Oh God, I want to properly introduce Hermione to Lucius and Narcissa in the next chapter, hopefully. I think I've worked out how I want them to interact with each other...
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