It had been impossible for Hermione to fall back asleep after she had been woken up by Malfoy's night terror. They stayed up together for nearly an hour before the tea had gone cold and he disappeared into his room. When her head hit her pillow, she thought back to the way he called out for her in desperation and held her like she was the only thing anchoring him to this earth.
The next morning, she went to the hotel garden to clear her head. Her hand drifted up to her chest and her fingers skirted over the top of her dress right along the faded scar she had from the Department of Mysteries. She had never seen him as vulnerable and unnerved as he had been when he saw her scar.
Perhaps a part of him still cared for her.
She knew, in spite of everything, that she still cared for him.
A large gust of wind danced through the garden and set off a series of wind chimes that lined the cobblestone pathway. Hermione looked back down at the stack of cards in her hands, filled with talking points for her presentation the following morning.
"Discrimination from employers for the fatigue and stress for the days leading up to and following the full moon," she recited under her breath, staring up at the sky as she paced around. "The involuntary act of transformation—"
"Granger!" Malfoy tore through the garden like a tornado, his wand out and silver eyes ablaze. He still wore his joggers and long-sleeved shirt from his run. "You can't just run off like that! What were you thinking?"
She took in his dishevelled hair and pale countenance with growing remorse. Her nails dug into the thin cards and she grimaced. "I didn't run off; I left you a note on the kitchen countertop that I came to the gardens to practice my speech."
Even though she hadn't done anything wrong—and she had spent the better part of their week trying to evade his protection—after their eventful night, she didn't want to make him worry.
Malfoy ran a hand through his messy hair, pinched his eyelids shut, and sighed. "I must have missed it. I came back from my run and you were just gone."
"I don't exactly have your mobile number," she whispered, feeling a pang in her chest. "I didn't think you'd mind as long as I stayed at the hotel."
"Of course I mind," his voice grew quieter to mirror hers and his expression softened. "I was halfway across the city and wouldn't have been with you in the event of an emergency."
With a sheepish smile, she glanced around the empty garden and said, "I haven't seen anyone else here all morning, if that helps. We were just on the balcony yesterday. How is this any different?"
He tucked his wand away and followed the cobblestone path to her. "First of all, I was there. Second, the balcony has a dozen charms on it. No one—Muggle, wizard, or werewolf—would notice it or be able to hear us on it. We can see them but they can't see us."
"Really?"
"Yes." He walked right up to her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, guiding her backwards until the backs of her knees bumped into the cool metal frame of the white bench behind her.
Words escaped her as he got down on one knee. "Um, Malfoy, uh, w-what are you—"
He lifted her foot and gently flexed it, staring intently at her ankle from multiple angles. "No residual bruising, that's good. Any pain?"
"No, it feels brand new. See?" She wiggled it around just for show. "Enough about me. How are you feeling?"
There was an unspoken question hidden there, one that she wasn't brave enough to ask in the daylight.
His eyes flicked up to her face and he stood up, dusting off his trousers. "I'm feeling much better, thank you for asking. I owe you an apology for keeping you up."
"It's alright. You've already repaid me with that hangover potion. I feel completely recovered and didn't even have to eat a plateful of greasy food to do it."
"I'm happy to hear the potion helped." He beamed with pride. "What did you say you were doing out here?"
"Just practicing my speech for tomorrow. I think my nerves are starting to get to me. I hoped the fresh air would help." She showed him her cards and then tucked them away in her pocket for safekeeping.
As if second nature, Malfoy took her hand in his and helped her rise. Once again, she was at a loss for words; his hand felt softer than she remembered.
"You're nervous?"
She nodded numbly, looking up at him through her lashes.
"The best cure for nerves is to redirect your focus to something else. If you spend your time fixating on it, it'll only make you feel worse. Skip the conference with me and we can find a way for you to relax before your presentation tomorrow," he murmured, the timbre soothing like a warm hug.
The offer was so tempting.
If they went to the conference centre, she would spend the entire day obsessing herself into a ball of anxiety. At least if they explored the city further, she would keep her mind off the impending presentation.
"I didn't think it was possible, but my brain might be full for the week and I wouldn't be able to focus even if we did attend. What did you have in mind?"
The feeling of his thumb sweeping along her hand made her head spin. It was so tender and doting that she wondered if he was even aware he was doing it. After his nightmare, it seemed like he couldn't stop touching her.
"It just so happens that I found something on my run this morning. In the meantime, I'm grievously underdressed compared to you. You look"—his Adam's apple dipped with a swallow as his gaze fell to her dress—"wow."
Hermione followed his line of sight and stared at her simple yellow sundress and white sandals; the dress fell mid-thigh and showed off her sun-kissed shoulders.
"Wow?"
"Wow," he repeated more firmly this time, finally releasing his hold on her.
"It even has pockets." She shoved her hands in the pockets of her sundress and twirled to demonstrate.
His head cocked to the side as he admired her with a glint in his eye. "I haven't forgotten the plight of women and their pockets. Thank Merlin for extension charms."
"Wasn't Merlin," she said matter-of-factly, unable to resist correcting him. "In fact, it was Lucia Thornhart who invented the extension charm."
Malfoy simply smiled.
"Now, onto business." Hermione straightened her posture. "I've never skived off from a work commitment before, so you'll have to show me what to do. I hope you've picked somewhere fun."
"A festival!" Hermione squealed, doing a little stomp in place, unable to contain her sheer excitement. "I haven't been to one of these since I was a child!"
"It's a temporary fair that the city puts on for Bastille Day. I saw the roller coaster and thought of you." He pointed to the massive ferris wheel rotating a dozen carriages through the air.
It took everything in her to hold back a laugh. He looked so pleased with himself to have found a 'roller coaster' that she didn't have the heart to correct him.
The fairground was much larger than it first appeared; it took over a massive park and included several rows of games, assorted rides for children and adults, and performers walking around on stilts.
Hermione eyed the other attendees of the festival, noting that Malfoy was far too dressed up for the occasion. When he stepped out of his hotel room wearing a pair of navy trousers and a white button-up paired with a sharp blazer, she had assumed they were going to some posh restaurant opening or a secret underground club for the elite, not a carnival.
Children giggled and ran past them with balloons in hand, trailing behind them in the wind. Hermione sidestepped around Malfoy, making room for them to pass. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and she realised she had stopped in front of a stand filled with trinkets and stuffed animals.
"Bonjour!" The employee managing the stand greeted them with enthusiasm. "Would you like to play? You could win a prize for your beautiful girlfriend!"
"Why not?" Malfoy asked out loud to no one, and then he pulled out a coin and handed it to the worker in exchange for three rings.
Her pulse leapt. "You have to throw a ring and have it land around the bottleneck," Hermione explained as they approached the game. "It's a bit tricky because they bounce around."
He scoffed with the confidence of an expert. "There are two dozen bottles in there. You're saying all I have to do is get one?"
"Yes. Then you win something, usually a keychain or a small toy."
"Or if you make three in a row, you can win one of these," the employee added with a tantalising wave of his hand towards some of the largest stuffies Hermione had ever seen. "But those are only for the particularly skilled."
"I once caught a Snitch in a dense rainstorm, four and a half minutes into a game. My hand-eye coordination is unmatched." Malfoy balanced the rings in his hand and then extended his arm, releasing a single ring.
Hermione watched as it bounced once, twice, and then fell to the ground. She covered her mouth to hold back a giggle.
Malfoy's eyebrows pulled together and he repeated the motion again; another ring fell onto the grass.
"Now, that isn't right. What is wrong with these rings?" He examined the remaining ring with a critical eye.
"It's to be expected. Not everyone is skilled enough to win," the game owner said with his arms crossed over his chest. "Unless you'd like to try again?"
With a huff, Malfoy slapped a handful of coins on the counter and the man smirked, handing him a bucket of rings.
One bucket of rings later and Hermione was tugging on Malfoy's arm. "It's okay, we can go to another stand."
"No, I'm going to win you something." He gritted his teeth and slapped another stack of coins down. "Again."
The ground was littered with stacks of plastic gold-painted rings.
"Malfoy, it's just a game."
He lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "This Muggle is using some sort of deception, I just know it. If this were a game of catching, I would win."
"I have no doubt that's true," she placated him.
"Do they have any of those here?"
She blinked. "Do they—no, Malfoy. The Muggles have no games where you have to catch a magical flying ball that will recover your pride."
A line began to form behind them.
With a pointed glance over her shoulder, she raised her finger up to Malfoy. "One more attempt and then I'm confiscating your wallet."
He scowled, reached into his blazer pocket, and coughed loudly. A moment later, he handed a single coin to the employee and proceeded to hit a perfect three rings in a row, each landing on their respective bottles with little bounce.
That was suspicious.
The man's eyes were wide as saucers.
"Granger, pick your prize," Malfoy instructed with a nod of his head.
"B-but how did you—" the man stuttered and stared at the collection of rings at his feet.
Without hesitating, she shuffled forward and pointed at the massive green stuffie hanging in the upper right hand corner of the booth. "I want the dragon."
Despite the fact that the stuffie was comically large and nearly the same size as Hermione, it was love at first sight. From the moment he was placed in her arms, she refused to put him down; he went everywhere with them as they weaved through the booths, occasionally stopping to play a game or explore a trinket tent.
Hermione showed Malfoy her strategy for popping balloons with tiny darts, explaining how she threw them with a higher arc than necessary to counteract the weighted tip. She won him a purple monkey with velcro hands, which he placed in his blazer pocket; the torso and head of the monkey stuck out and he informed her that he wanted it to have a view.
"How about we take a break for lunch?"
The smells of sugar and grease wafting on the air woke up her appetite. "Hmm. I am hungry but I can't tell if I want sweet or savoury."
"I have no qualms about buying both sweet and savoury. Would you like to share?"
She grinned and rested her chin on the dragon wrapped up in her arms. "Sounds perfect."
Two stands and three baskets of food later and they were sitting at a picnic table together under the shade of a large tree.
"I can't believe we're in a city full of amazing food and we chose to have carnival food," Hermione laughed, digging into her stack of crepes. She licked her fingertips and chewed slowly, relishing the taste.
"It's worth it for the memory," Malfoy replied, digging out a chip from his basket. He turned and offered it to the dragon stuffie which Hermione had propped up in his own seat. "Chip? No? Oh well, more for me."
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Speaking of, he needs a proper name."
"It has to be something majestic and regal—something that strikes fear in the hearts of men."
"What about Waffles?"
"I—" Malfoy choked up with laughter and stopped short when he caught her frown.
Waffles was a perfectly respectable name for a dragon; It was certainly better than Norbert. "What's wrong with Waffles?"
His mouth opened and then closed and he finally shook his head. "Nothing, it's a beautiful name."
"It is. By the way, I know you cheated by using magic," she added, leaning over to steal one of his chips. Using her fry as a vessel, she scooped up a generous glob of vanilla ice cream.
"What?" Malfoy gasped, feigning ignorance.
She gave him an unimpressed look and bit off the end of the chip.
"Okay, fine. Maybe I did. Do I have to bring up what you did to McLaggen during Quidditch tryouts sixth year? Because I'm not above it."
Sweet and salty, cold and hot mixed on her tongue in perfect balance. "I'm too happy with this food to ruin my mood by responding to you."
Malfoy looked down at the chip in his hand and gave her cup of vanilla soft serve a sidelong glance. "Surely it can't taste good, can it?"
"It can and it does," she said with confidence. "It will forever change your life."
He pressed his lips into a thin line. "But if I enjoy it then you win."
"A small price to pay for the experience of chips and ice cream."
Without further ado, he dipped his chip into the ice cream with a flourish and popped it between his lips. Hermione rested her elbows on the picnic table, leaning in closer to watch his reaction. His face shifted from a half grimace to a puzzled expression and finally ended on a raise of his eyebrows.
"Well?" she prompted, eager to hear his opinion. She had been eating her chips with ice cream for years, and for some reason, she was invested in him enjoying it.
"It shouldn't be good," he argued, but still proceeded to dip a second chip—this time collecting more ice cream.
"I knew you'd enjoy it!" she exclaimed in triumph, throwing up her arms. "It is good, isn't it?"
"Okay, okay, I can admit when I'm wrong. Against all logic, it's delicious." He offered her a chip. "Truce?"
She accepted his humble offering and placed her cup of ice cream between them. "Truce."
Malfoy lit up and pushed his basket of chips closer. "Look at us, two only children who learned how to share in spite of the odds."
It felt like a lifetime ago that she trailed after him in the Hogwarts library and challenged him over a silly school assignment. How much did he remember from those days?
"Whatever happened to those courtships that you spoke of in school?" Hermione blurted out. Smooth transition, she scolded herself internally.
If he was surprised by her question, he didn't show it. "Half the discussions dissolved when my mother passed, and the rest stopped when my father went to Azkaban after it became obvious that I didn't share his views. I was too dark for the light side and too light for the dark side."
"Who were they?" She didn't know why she felt residual jealousy from an unknown faceless witch, but she did. It had bothered her endlessly; she would walk the halls of Hogwarts wondering who was preparing to be betrothed to Malfoy.
"Every eligible witch of means with the right name," he replied, his lips twisting bitterly. "My father wanted to keep the bloodline pure, but my mother always told me if I had the chance at a happy marriage with love to take it."
"And did you?" she asked, dropping all semblance of self-control.
He deflated in front of her, the mood turned somber. "I tried, once."
Her hand drifted up to her necklace and she closed her fist around her pendant.
"What would you like to do next?" he prompted, bringing his hands down to his knees. "I chose the duck game, and in the spirit of fairness, it's your turn to choose."
Hermione made a soft hum under her breath and looked around the unexplored area behind the picnic tables. Just behind a tent full of hand-woven dream catchers, she caught a glimpse of a miniature golf course.
It was perfect.
She hopped up and collected Waffles in her arms. "I'll lead the way!"
Malfoy hurried to toss their containers in the rubbish bin and followed after her. As soon as he realised where she was headed, he gasped. "How dare you."
"You can't blame me for wanting to take advantage of this golden opportunity!"
"I trusted you, and you used that information against me."
She snickered. "Waffles is available to help you with your form, should you require assistance."
"Is Waffles our ball boy? He seems underqualified with the lack of bones."
"He has many talents. Also, he can breathe fire."
"Ah, yes. A critical component to any game of golf."
She nodded seriously.
He laughed and then groaned. "I have a feeling that there's no scenario where I leave this course unscathed. You just want to watch me struggle, don't you?"
Her nose crinkled and she bit her lip to hold back a smile. "I can't say the prospect isn't tempting. You did the same to me once upon a time."
"Touché."
"And you can't cheat with magic this time! I'll be watching." Hermione brought two fingers to her eyes before turning them to him, a silent threat. She stepped to the side behind the wall of a nearby tent and pulled out her wand, shielding it from passersby with her body. When she was sure no one could see her, she whispered, "Reducio."
"Granger!" Malfoy shouted, causing her to jump. "Why did I bother winning you the big one when you were just going to shrink him?"
She covered Waffles' ears with her hands and glared. "Waffles is very insecure about his size, okay? I don't need you making it worse. What if the other dragons tease him?"
"My apologies, Waffles." The corner of his lips lifted. "I didn't mean it."
"Thank you. He accepts your apology."
"You cheated," Malfoy said with a slight pout.
"How?"
"I don't know how, but you cheated."
She let out a bright laugh. "It's not cheating when I beat you with raw skill. As victor, I have one request. You have to go on the ferris wheel with me."
"The what?"
"The roller coaster," she corrected herself, gathering Waffles in the crook of her arm.
He huffed like he was upset but his smile gave him away. "This is revenge for the ride around the Quidditch pitch, isn't it?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny."
"I deserve that."
Her cheeks ached from smiling but she couldn't stop. In fact, she had spent almost the entire day smiling and laughing, a complete opposite to her anxiety-riddled morning. One thing was for certain, she had all but forgotten about the presentation tomorrow.
The gentle sway of the ferris wheel lulled Hermione into a sleepy daze. Between her sleepless night and her excitement-filled day, she was exhausted. It circled around and around, showing off a view of the city around them. When their carriage reached the peak, they had a perfect view of the sunset on the horizon.
"Honestly, I expected this roller coaster to be faster from your description," Malfoy whispered, ducking his head towards her. "I can't imagine why you'd think I would be frightened of this when I fly three times this height on the Quidditch pitch."
"Roller coasters are usually much faster than this. If you'd like, we could go on a quicker one together some day."
His smile reached his eyes. "I'd love that."
The wind rocked their carriage, thrusting it forward. The motion pushed Hermione off balance and she instinctively leaned closer to him and clung to his arm for dear life.
When the compartment stabilised, her cheeks heated with embarrassment, but before she could break the silence, he quietly assured her, "Don't worry, you're safe with me."
Her pulse quickened in her veins. "Thank you, Malfoy. You were right, by the way. I haven't thought about tomorrow at all."
"I think the creaking of the roller coaster overpowered your words. Can you say that again?" he teased.
"You were right," she repeated with a laugh. "It has actually been a while since I've just relaxed and had fun. I went right from the war to focusing on developing this potion and I didn't take the time to decompress in between."
"It was the same for me," he confided. "After the war, I took care of my mother and then the estate. Once she passed, I had my whole life in my hands. It was equally terrifying and exhilarating."
She nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. It was the same for her. So much of her time and energy had been spent on school and in preparation for the war that when it was finally over, she didn't know what to do with herself.
The ride began to slow, and Hermione noticed riders exiting the lower carriages. She tightened her hold on his arm, disappointed that the moment was almost over when it had just begun. "That went by so quickly. I swear I could ride this all night if they let us."
Their carriage was next to unload, but instead of undoing the latch to their door, Malfoy passed the attendant money with his free hand. "We'd like to keep riding for a bit longer, please," he said softly.
Warmth bloomed in her chest and she looked up at him with wide eyes. Their carriage moved once more, and soon the ride began again. Hermione shifted even closer in the small compartment, resting her heavy head on Malfoy's shoulder. He immediately leaned against the top of hers, closing the rest of the space between them, and her stomach erupted in butterflies.
Draco drained the remaining white wine from the bottle, topping off Granger's glass. After the carnival, they laid out a blanket on the patio and pushed the chairs to the side to watch the moon rise.
She raised the wine glass in a cheers motion and took a generous sip. "I really do love this wine. Are you sure you don't mind that we finished the bottle?"
"It's from the vineyard from yesterday." He dismissed her concerns with a flippant wave of his hand. "You can drink as much as you'd like. I can always order more." Watching Granger enjoy the wine brought him more happiness than drinking it ever could.
Granger adjusted her legs and tucked them to the side, angling her body towards him on the small blanket they shared. He was grateful for the warm night air, but would've gladly snuck a heating charm just to stay outside with her a bit longer.
From over the rim of his glass, he caught her watching him with a smirk. "What?"
"What happened to only one glass?"
"Maybe you're just a bad influence on me, Granger." He was blatantly flirting with her, his filter long gone.
"Excuse you! I am the best influence!" She jabbed her index finger against her chest. "I won't entertain slander like that."
"I think you're just used to being the best influence of the bad influences," he informed her with a cock of his head. "You are a Gryffindor, after all."
She sniffed and turned her chin upward. "I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear that. It would ruin what has otherwise been a wonderful night."
Teasing her was an old habit that he couldn't seem to rid himself of. "I'm simply saying that you've always been very selective about which rules pertain to you."
"Such as?"
One by one, he began to lift his fingers. "Brewing Polyjuice potion? Petrifying poor Longbottom?"
"You're just using alliteration to make it sound worse than it was. Also, I've purchased many Butterbeers for Neville to apologise."
"Breaking into Gringotts?"
"For a Horcrux," she added, setting down her glass for dramatic effect. "Important detail, as that saved the Wizarding World. You're welcome, by the way."
"Stealing a dragon and riding it out of Gringotts, as well."
"Okay, these just sound bad back to back. I won't apologise for that one because that dragon deserved freedom!"
"Holding Skeeter hostage as a beetle? That time you lied to Umbridge and lured her into the Centaur Colony? Are you sensing a pattern here? Because I'm running low on fingers."
She made a face. "Alright, perhaps you have a slight point. I've grown since then."
"I think we both have."
The cluster of clouds above them parted and revealed a view of the stars.
"How does it feel to look up at the night sky and see yourself?" Granger asked, her voice quiet and wistful. "Must be nice to be named after a constellation of stars."
He frowned and felt a weight on his chest. "I've never felt connected to the stars, to be honest. It only mattered to me because it mattered to my mother."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise."
"I suppose, if anything, I should've been named after a moon," he murmured, his voice tight. "I spent my time chasing after the sun, in search of light and warmth from her."
"Her?"
The white wine was flowing through his system, fueled by their night together, and he found himself grasping for bravery. "That was you."
"Me?" Her lips parted and she blinked in surprise. "I'm no sun."
His heart thrummed in his chest and he inched his hand closer to hers on the blanket until his pinky overlapped with hers, curling together as if making a silent promise. "Every ounce of light that I had inside me back then was just a reflection of the light that came from you," he whispered into the night air.
"That can't possibly be true," she breathed. Their arms were now pressed against the other with their pinkies still threaded together. "You were what kept me together back then, for all of fifth year, actually. I would've fallen apart without you."
"It was mine, too," Draco blurted out suddenly, as if the words couldn't stay inside him for a moment longer else he might burst. "I never told you, but you were mine too."
Her eyes widened, startled by his outburst. "Your what?"
"My first kiss." He released a shaky exhale, gathering his remaining courage before the moment passed. "That night in the classroom—it was my first kiss, too."
"I was your first kiss?" The words left her in a gasp.
A sharp prickle ran through Draco's body, disrupting his thoughts like a jolt of electricity.
"The ward." He scrambled to a standing position and whipped out his wand. "Someone's triggered the ward."
A moment later, there was a heavy knock on the front door. The sound sobered him up instantly, and he regretted every sip of wine. He made the most basic of mistakes and let his guard down.
"Are you expecting anyone?" he asked, his stomach in knots.
Granger shook her head, blanched white with panic. "No."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain black pen. "This is an emergency Portkey; Click the top twice and it will activate. It will bring you to my safehouse and Blaise will be there within the minute to help you. He has the other half of this set."
She looked frightened but didn't argue when he handed her the pen.
"Stay here."
"I won't leave without you," she said, her voice unwavering. Despite her worry, her inner Gryffindor was showing through.
"Don't worry, I have a Portkey of my own. You'll be safe and I'll be right behind you." The lie slipped off his tongue like oil. He wouldn't let her stay in harm's way for his sake.
Granger held the pen with both hands. "Okay."
Draco tapped her softly on the top of her head with his wand, and she shivered from the sensation as the disillusionment charm took effect. More knocking sounded, and he released a deep breath. He made his way to the door with his wand hand steady. With a flick of his wand, the door became transparent and he could see through to the other side with the intruder none the wiser.
"Fuck," he exhaled, feeling as though he'd been punched in the abdomen.
"What is it?" Granger asked from her hiding spot. Even though he couldn't see her, he knew that she would have her wand drawn, ready to help him fight a werewolf pack.
To be honest, Draco would have preferred a werewolf. He swallowed hard before answering, "It's Weasley."
"Ronald?" she squeaked out, followed by a smattering of footsteps until she stopped on his right.
The last time Draco saw Weasley, he was kissing Granger over the rubble of Hogwarts following the final battle. It had cemented his resolve to step aside and let her move on without him; she deserved that much. Watching the love of his life fall into the arms of another man had been a pain he felt down to his bones. His grip on his wand was so tight that his hand went numb.
They had been in their own little world this week, separated completely from their everyday lives. Draco had almost forgotten about reality waiting for them on the other side.
A feeling of betrayal burned him at his core, though she owed him nothing. "I thought you said you two weren't—"
"We're not," she rushed to correct him.
"Then why—"
His attention had been so hyper-focused on Weasley and the dumb expression on his face that Draco had missed Weasley's sister beside him until she spoke. "Can we come in? I'm tired and I know you felt us come through the first boundary when we stepped off the lift."
As quickly as she had disappeared, Granger reappeared with her wand in hand. Her cheeks were flushed bright red, but Draco couldn't tell if that had happened before or after the Weasleys' appearance.
She looked up at him in a silent plea, and it felt like an entire conversation passed between them in a handful of seconds.
Draco could never deny her anything, not when she gave him those big brown eyes. His forearm muscles twitched but he kept his wand pointed towards the door. "They can come in as long as you ask them questions to verify their identity. We can't risk a Polyjuice situation."
Granger nodded, agreeing to his terms, and he opened the door with his free hand.
"Malfoy?" Weaselette looked more surprised than anything. "Where's Hermione?"
The intrusion was almost worth it to see the look of indignation and horror from Weasley. Instead of responding, Draco simply pushed the door open further until Granger was in view.
Right on cue, Granger exclaimed, "Ginny! Ronald! What are you two doing here?" Her voice was high and screamed her discomfort.
"Bloody hell, Hermione. What do you mean what are we doing here? We came to support you," Weasley replied with a scowl directed at Draco. His anger must have flustered him because he immediately took a step forward and collided with the barrier. The shock stunned him and turned his ears bright red. "What is going on here?"
To Draco's relief, Granger didn't move from his side. "Malfoy came to Paris with me as my protection for the conference. He set up wards so that only we could get through."
While her brother sputtered out his complaints, the youngest Weasley stood to the side and inspected them with a curious expression. Draco watched as she stared first at Granger's dress, then Draco's button up—his blazer long discarded—and last, the state of their lived-in hotel room.
Weasley started to reach for his wand, but before he could, Draco raised his a fraction higher, challenging him.
"Take out your wand and I'll hex you until your future children can feel it," Draco threatened. After all, Granger said she had no visitors coming. Anyone could disguise themself as a Weasley.
"Try it, I dare you. I'll—" Weasley forgot himself and moved forward again, bumping into the barrier once more.
"He's like a fly smacking against a lightbulb," Draco drawled. "Perhaps it truly is Weasley."
Granger jammed her elbow into Draco's ribcage. "Be nice."
"Not until you ask the question."
"Ginny, we went into Ron's room on Christmas Day last year. What did we do there?" Granger prompted, twisting her necklace between her fingers.
Before replying, Weaselette dropped an overnight bag to the ground and her face scrunched in worry. "Just how serious is this threat, Hermione? We haven't done this since the war."
"It's nothing, really. It's only a precaution. Please, just answer the question," Granger pleaded with a touch of desperation in her voice.
"We replaced his Chudley Cannons poster with one from my season on the Holyhead Harpies."
Draco could barely hold back the roll of his eyes. Who cheered for the Chudley Cannons?
"Exactly!" Granger's shoulders sank in relief and she turned to Weasley. "And Ron, what did you do to it after?"
Weasley was too busy shooting daggers at Draco to answer Granger directly. "Charmed devil horns on Ginny's photograph."
"It's them," Granger whispered, gently placing her hand on Draco's forearm, lowering it.
From the look in Granger's eyes, he knew she was silently imploring him to be on his best behaviour for their visitors. Even though it pained him to do so, Draco lowered the barrier and let the pair over the threshold to the suite.
Granger rushed forward to help them gather their bags and welcomed them into the suite while Draco stood off to the side.
"I can't believe you came all the way to Paris to listen to me speak. You've heard my ramblings on this study for years, I thought you were tired of it." Granger let out an awkward laugh, her discomfort palpable.
"Ginny had the idea; she thought you would want some support when speaking in front of a large crowd, and we went to your office to get the information from your manager," Weasley said through gritted teeth. "We had a hell of a time trying to find you between the pseudonym and the new room."
"The new room?" Granger repeated back, lost. She looked to Draco for an answer.
Shit.
Draco rubbed at his neck and mumbled, "It's nothing. I figured you wouldn't be comfortable sharing a two bed hotel room with me so I opted for a slight upgrade."
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes darted around the grand hotel suite. "A slight upgrade? This is the best suite in the hotel. Malfoy, this had to have cost a fortune! I didn't know you did this."
Weasley snorted inelegantly. "How did you not know? The bloke's obviously too spoiled for anything else. Why would he lower himself to live like the peasants?"
The remark rubbed Draco the wrong way.
"Oh! How rude of me. Do either of you want a cuppa?" Granger interjected, overcompensating her cheer to offset the tension in the room.
"Sounds delicious, Hermione. Ron and I would love some tea," Weaselette answered quickly on her brother's behalf.
Granger hurried around the kitchen in a flurry, preparing four cups of tea, two pink, two grey.
The weight of the female Weasley's gaze made Draco uneasy. She seemed more observant than her brother, and Draco even caught her staring at the leftover blanket and wine glasses on the outdoor patio with a smile on her lips.
"Hermione, is this yours?" Weasley had wandered over to the kitchen to watch her work and noticed the green dragon sitting in its own seat at the table. "It has a goofy-looking face."
"Pot, meet kettle. And his name is Waffles," Draco said, personally affronted. "He's much larger than he looks. Granger shrunk him."
Weasley laughed and tossed him back on the table. "Sure he is."
"He is," Draco insisted, his irritation growing.
"Why does it matter?" Granger asked while carrying over the first two cups of tea to the table.
"Because, I didn't win you a pathetic-sized stuffie," he grumbled, accepting the cup of pink tea from her with a huff.
Granger and Weaselette shared a look that he couldn't decipher.
"I think it's a cute name—"
"You also named your bird Pigwidgeon, Gin. You don't have the best track record," Weasley retorted, interrupting his sister.
"You don't need to be so combative, Ronald," Granger said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It wouldn't kill you to be friendly."
Weasley spun around to face her and pointed accusingly at Draco. "Tell that to Malfoy! He's the one who threatened us and held us at wand point. It wasn't exactly a warm welcome."
With a sigh, Granger pushed a cup of earl grey tea into Weasley's hands and he sat down at the kitchen table. "He's sorry about that, right Malfoy?"
He most certainly was not.
Draco bit the inside of his cheek and nodded once.
"See? All is forgiven."
The night had been upended, and if he had a Time-Turner, Draco never would have answered the door. Instead of spending his remaining hours in Paris with Granger and a glass of wine under the stars, he was listening to her recap the entire week to their unexpected visitors—including every lecture.
Draco finished his cup of tea and excused himself to the far end of the kitchen to clear his dish and get a moment away. Part of him wanted to go to his room for the night, but a larger part didn't want to leave her when they had so little time left before going home.
"...And you're stuck with Malfoy," Weasley whispered, but his voice was loud enough to carry.
"Don't be rude, I've actually had a nice week. This side of Paris is beautiful, and we went out sight-seeing almost every night this week."
Draco froze with his hands in the sink, pretending he wasn't listening in.
Weasley snorted. "You've always been too polite for your own good."
"No, really. He's actually quite accomplished in his field. He and Blaise have their own company and he's done a great job so far. I feel safe with him." Draco could hear the smile in Granger's voice and it made his chest feel warm and fuzzy.
"Come on, you don't really believe that?" Weasley asked, his words dripping with skepticism. "It's easy to run a business when you're living off daddy's vault. Who knows if they even make money or just use their family money to play pretend? It must be nice to work when you have nothing at stake."
The cup and platter fell into the sink with a clatter and Draco whirled around to face them. "You know nothing about my family."
Weasley crossed his arms and his lips curled. "Nothing? Have you forgotten that we've had to deal with you lot for years? Your precious father is the reason Ginny was possessed by a Horcrux."
Before he could regain his senses, Draco stormed over to Weasley until they were face-to-face.
"Ron, you can't blame him for his father," the girl Weasley declared.
Her defence of Draco took him aback. "Can't I? Why is he the one assigned to protect Hermione when we all know what side of the war he was on? His father can't help him now, not from Azkaban. After what he did, he's lucky that he isn't in there, too."
"Ronald!" Granger gasped in horror, clutching a hand to her chest.
"It's true!" Weasley doubled down, his eyes narrowing at Draco. "We don't need to drink tea and play pretend like we're old mates catching up."
"We aren't in school anymore. Stop fighting like you're children." In a bid to separate them, Granger tried to push herself between them.
Weasley wrapped his arm around Granger's shoulder and pulled her to him. "In fact, I don't know why you're still here. I have it from here. She'll be in better hands with me, anyway."
Black spots began to form in the corners of Draco's vision. "You'd love that, wouldn't you? I refuse to leave her when she needs me. It's not my fault you already lost her and you'll have to live with that for the rest of your life." He thrust his hand forward and jabbed Weasley in the chest.
"Big words from a Death Eater," Weasley spat.
The air disappeared from the room.
Draco counted to three in his head before he snapped and really did end up in a cell next to his father. His pulse roared in his ears as he walked away. The last thing he wanted was to prove them right on who they thought he was.
A small hand caught his arm just after he reached his room. He looked up to see Granger standing in his doorway with a concerned expression.
"Hermione!" Weasley called out, but she ignored him.
"Ron doesn't mean what he said. He's just being protective of me." Granger's lower lip quivered and her eyes looked glassy.
Draco shook his head, wondering if she was overly optimistic or plain naïve. Their families had hated each other since before either of them were born. "He means it. Why are you defending him?"
"I'm not defending him, I'm just trying to say that he isn't usually like this," she said helplessly, wringing her hands together.
"I find that difficult to believe," Draco scoffed, avoiding the temptation to look over the top of her head at their guests who were most likely watching the interaction.
Granger's arms wrapped around her torso and she shrank into herself. "You just bring out that side of him. You two weren't exactly on the best of terms in school, and he hasn't seen you since the war—"
"Neither have you, and you didn't treat me like that." Draco was being stubborn, and he knew it, but his time with Granger had been stolen out from under him and everything hurt.
Her brown eyes softened. "But I knew you in a way that he never did, and it's hard for him to understand you aren't the same as you were back then. Sixth year was absolute hell for me and I defended you, you know that? Even after you broke my heart into a million pieces, I defended you until I was blue in the face. Harry had all these theories about what you were doing and I told him and Ron that you didn't—that you'd never." She took in a shuddering breath, steadying herself.
An overwhelming sense of nausea took hold of him when he realised what she was referring to. Of all the times to have this conversation, it had to happen now.
No matter what he did, he couldn't escape his past. The world would always view Draco as a monster, as a villain. It was foolish to believe that would ever change.
He only thought she knew him, the real him.
"Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" Draco hissed. His breath came in short as he unclasped his left cufflink and began to roll up his sleeve. Her wide eyes followed the motion. "I'm nothing but a spoiled heir, living off my father's vault—right?" He couldn't stop the shaking in his fingers or his voice as he pulled the fabric up, revealing the faded Mark on his forearm. "I'm nothing but a fucking Death Eater."
At the sight of the harsh black ink, Granger flinched as if she had been slapped and instantly stepped back.
It was everything he'd ever feared staring back at him. She would never love a monster like him. He hung his head and tasted bile rising in his throat.
"Draco, I didn't mean—" She tried to step forward again but he stopped her with a raise of his hand, his eyes fixated on the ground.
"Leave, Granger. Just leave. One more day and we never have to see each other again, I promise," he rasped, unable to lift his head and face her disgust. His palms pressed against the wood as he closed the door between them. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears burning at his eyes, begging to fall.