A/N: Sorry for the delay in this chapter! My WIP and other writing commitments have taken over my free time! I'll be working sans-beta from here on out with Tergeo so all those nasty little errors are wholly mine. Hope it is readable to some extent :D
June 24th, 2003
"You're telling me, that nothing happened between you and Pansy?" Hermione lifted a curious eyebrow at him as she swallowed another giggle.
Draco glowered back at her, his eyes narrowed as he snagged the bottle from her. He'd been avoiding giving an honest answer for several minutes and finally, he cracked. "Alright! Fine. Yes, something happened but I was drunk and it was a dare… and I swear to Merlin's saggy sack – I'll never forgive Goyle as long as I live."
Hermione rolled over in laughter, clawing at her sides while tears ran down her cheeks. "Tell me!"
"What?" he choked, wiping firewhisky from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Not bloody likely!"
"Oh, you have to! Seriously. Don't you know me at all? I'm a curious person… you can't leave me in such agony," she whined, tugging playfully on the sleeve of his shirt.
"You would make the worst Slytherin," Draco offered her a withering snort. "Your skills at persuasion are truly abhorrent." He took another long pull from the firewhisky before tucking it between his knees. "But fine."
Hermione's laughter turned riotous as she gasped for air, snagging the bottle from his lap. "Aha! So actually, I'd be a rather proficient Slytherin."
"Doubtful."
Hermione felt a flutter in her chest when he stared back at her; his brow tugged up and a smirk playing on his lips.
"Tell me!" Hermione whined again.
"It was fourth year during a party. We were playing Pick a Wand."
"Pick a what?"
"Pick a wand."
"What's that?"
Draco rolled his eyes, capturing the bottle which was now nearly two-thirds gone.
"Merlin, you Gryffindorks really are lame. Witches wands in one, wizards in the other. Pick one and spend ten minutes in a broom closet."
"Oh, seven minutes in heaven."
"What's that?" Draco's brow furrowed.
"Nevermind." Hermione waved her hand dismissively, eager for Draco to continue. "Anyway, on with it! If I remember correctly, fourth year was a particularly puss-filled year for Pansy."
Draco rolled his eyes and snagged the bottle from Hermione's hands, taking another pull and then laying back in the grass.
"I always bragged that I was quite the witches-man at only fourteen." Draco's eyes clenched shut as he let out a guttural groan. "Goyle dared me to bring back her knickers or pay him twenty galleons.."
"No!" Hermione covered her mouth, her eyes wide in horror.
"Well, I wasn't coming out of there without them obviously." He snorted. "I've been scarred most of my adult life. And that is how the horrible rumor of me and Pansy started. Not that she didn't help to circulate it herself…"
Hermione erupted in laughter again, patting the earth to help ease the stitch in her side. "I knew you couldn't be dating that pug! I mean… look at you!" She blurted and then slapped a hand over her mouth. "Merlin. I'm drunk… I've not been drunk in a while."
"Granger," Draco purred playfully in the darkness. "I knew you weren't immune to my charms."
"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I just mean that you guys seem on a bit of a different level. Looks wise." Hermione felt her face screw up at her own awkwardness and she groaned. "It's the whisky. I'm not used to these spirits." Hermione smiled nervously, letting the soil slip through her fingers absently.
"Your garden is doing well," Draco said, poking her Valerian with his pointer finger.
"It is," Hermione agreed with a grin. "It's strange. I wouldn't have ever put myself here."
"Here?"
"Sitting a plot of earth that I've tilled with my childhood bully – drunk." Hermione shook her head, her curls bouncing across her shoulders. "I've spent so much time imagining where my life would lead and this just never crossed my mind."
She could feel the heat of his stare on her face and her lips pulled into a drunken grin.
"You owe me." Draco finally broke the silence, amusement lacing his words. "From the Pansy story?"
Hermione's mind spun away from her and her eyes blew wide. "What do you want?"
"Tell me about you and Weasel." He drew runes in the soil, refusing to meet her eye and a strange cocktail of relief and disappointment flooded her system.
"I've told you. I should feel more for him— I don't."
"Why should you feel more?" He shifted just marginally closer to her and her breath hitched.
Her face scrunched up as she searched the sky for her favorite constellations. "Destiny?"
"Bullshite." Draco snorted and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.
Hermione's hands flew up in defense and she laughed. "It seems like everyone has this story written in their heads for me, and I'm meant to fill in the blanks. I don't think I'm that person anymore, though. She died in a forest some time ago."
"You can't honestly believe that."
Hermione sighed, her eyes fluttering closed as she heard the lull of the ocean crashing below. "I know that I'm different now than I was before that night. Something changed and I don't think I can go back. I don't know if I want to."
"You know, that night, the old Draco died too."
Hermione froze, a deep, sobering breath filling her lungs. She felt horribly unprepared for this conversation.
"I think he'd been dying for a while, but I walked up on you, and your back was turned. I should have killed you. Hell, I would have been killed had anyone found out that I didn't. But I couldn't."
Hermione shifted on her hip, staring at the sharp planes of his face as he spoke, lost in memory.
"I thought if I could just leave you there, no one would know. But then being forced to stand by while Rookwood—" Draco drifted off. "I'll never forgive myself for that. I should have fucking killed him. Could have at least let you kill him, since your the least cowardly of the two of us. It changed after that. I changed after that. I contacted the Order days later and asked them to help me get out."
Hermione's slow and slushy brain struggled to filter through the information dump that he'd just laid at her feet and she blurted the first question that came to her mind. "Why didn't you kill me?"
She watched Draco's face crumple. "I am not a murderer."
"Why me?"
Draco pursed his lips, his eyes dragging slowly over the curves of her face and settling on her mouth. "I thought you were clever." He tucked a few curls behind her ears and his palm brushed against her cheek.
"Are you very drunk?" she whispered.
"No." He smirked at her, a laugh playing on his lips. "Are you?"
"Mildly," she allowed, swallowing thickly.
Draco leaned in, a breath away from brushing lips and tangled one hand hair in the curls at the back of her neck.
The moment stretched on in agony and finally, the softest lips touched hers. She felt the kiss in her knees and his arm wrapped tighter around her waist. They moved in perfect synchronization; like it was a dance they had been meant to dance their entire lives.
Hermione's hands slid in his sugar soft hair and she pressed her body into him. When his tongue brushed against his lower lip, he swallowed her moan before plunging into her mouth with her tongue.
She pulled back, catching her breath as he rested his forehead on hers.
Her mind tugged in several directions as a coil of want settled deep in her belly. Hermione placed her bedroom squarely in her mind and they were gone— then there again.
Draco clung to her, even after they had landed and whipped his head around to survey their new surroundings. "Granger." He shook his head purposefully.
"Shhh," she whispered and pulled him down on the bed on top of her, her legs parting to let him lay him between them.
Her hands slid down his back, tugging up on his shirt and he broke their kiss, lifting it over his shoulders and tossing it aside. She took a long lingering look as lean muscles of his abdomen flexed peppered with scars.
Draco lavished a kiss in the hollow of her throat and she froze, hearing a faint pop!
"Draco!" she hissed, "Someone's here!"
"What?" His words muffled against her skin.
"Hide!" Hermione shoved him off her and ignored the confused look on his face as she shoved him in her closet and slammed the door.
"Mione?" She heard the familiar voice stage whisper. Shit. Haphazardly, she pulled her shirt over her head and smoothed her hair, before cracking the door.
"Ron? What on earth are you doing here?"
"Mind if I crash for the night? I've got to talk to Draco in the morning, and the safe house was packed."
"Of course. You can use the room downstairs." She rushed, attempting to close the door before he stayed it with his palm.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
"No!" she blurted and when his sapphire eyes went wide in surprise she attempted to calm her nerves with a deep breath.
"You alright, Hermione?"
"Brilliant. Just exhausted. See you in the morning?" Her words tumbled quickly one after another and her friend studied her with a wary expression.
Ron tentatively agreed, turning to trot down the stairs with a final curious glance over his shoulder.
Hermione pressed the door closed and with a wave of her wand silenced the room.
"Malfoy?" she called quietly, a shameful blush staining her cheeks. He said nothing as he slid through her closet door. "Malfoy?" she repeated with a trembling voice.
The blond retrieved his shirt and pulled it over his head, before leaning in and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek
"Where are you going?" Pain settled in her chest as he moved towards the door.
"I'll see you in the morning." Malfoy smirked but left with nothing more said between them.
Hermione stared at the back of her door, rejection rubbing uncomfortably against her skin. Before long, she crawled under her duvet; a familiar quiver in her throat as she fought off tears.
Sleep didn't find her, not even when the sun began it's slow to peek through the blinds. Her fingers curled through with the stray yarn on her throw blanket, and she sat up straight in her bed as she heard the faint sound of steps and the water being turned on in the shower.
Shaking her head from the invading images, Hermione quickly wrapped her robe around her shoulders and padded down the stairs.
As she passed the room at the bottom of the stairs, she peeked in, finding Ron was belly up and fully clothed, snoring loudly.
Tittering around the kitchen, Hermione set to breakfast: pulling muffins from the cupboard and setting the kettle on the stove. The stairs creaked behind her and tension spread across her shoulders, even the fine hairs of her arms standing at attention.
A low cough signaled his arrival. "Granger."
Her lips pursed unpleasantly. "Morning, Malfoy." There were hurt and embarrassment underneath it all and she couldn't explain why.
Strong hands fell on her shoulders skating down her arms and leaving goosebumps in their wake. She couldn't place the feelings coursing through her; everything about him confused her. He'd left her— breathless and thoroughly snogged — and now he was here, rubbing her arms and embracing her.
"Tea?" she said with a shaky breath.
His voice was husky in her ear and she felt her heart thundering in her chest. "Love some. Thanks."
A tight knot tangled in her throat, and she tried in vain to swallow it away. Summoning all that Gryffindor courage of hers, she turned in his arms and stared up at him with squinted, curious eyes. His gaze left hers, falling on her lips and before she knew it, he captured her in a firm but tender kiss. The night before, her lids would have fluttered closed, but she was so caught by surprise that they shot open wider.
As their lips broke away from each other, his lips pulled up into a smirk.
Hermione's eyes darted over his smug expression and she gulped. "I'm...confused."
"About what?" The smile playing on his curved lips was maddening and Hermione couldn't help but feel that she was in a game that she didn't know the rules to.
"Why you are kissing me?" she asked with a skeptical brow.
Draco's face fell, his jaw falling slightly open as he gaped at her. "Bloody hell, you don't remember? I thought you said you weren't drunk!"
"You idiot, of course, I remember! But you left—"
He chuckled darkly into his chest, "I doubt a hastily cast Silencio would have hidden our activities last night had they continued and I didn't think Weasley needs to be privy to any of that."
Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. "You're not mad?"
Draco reached behind her and snagged the warmed muffin that was meant for her and took a giant bite, shrugging. "Maybe at Weasel— but that's normally the case."
A rustle came from the bedroom and Hermione snapped from her reverie. With a withering grimace, she snatched the muffin from Draco's hand and tucked it between her teeth as she prepared a strong cup of tea.
"Morning," Ron grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "That bed is so much more comfortable than those lumpy fucking cots at the safe houses."
"What is it you want, Weasley?" Draco drawled, snatching the muffin from between Hermione's teeth and moving towards the sitting area.
The feeling in the air shifted, a tight tension coiling between the unlikely trio. Ron's straightened his spine and coughed into the back of his hand. "We can brief in private—" His crystal blue eyes flickered over to Hermione at the counter. "If you want."
Draco waved a dismissive hand towards the witch. "It's fine, she'll just eavesdrop anyway."
Ron's eyes fell on Hermione once more, but with a firm nod, he took the seat across from Draco. "We've got a mission planned— a mission to extract your mum."
Hermione's head snapped to the pair of them, her eyes studying Draco; eager to take in his reaction. He gave nothing away, his gray eyes staring a hole in the floor.
"Where is she?"
Hermione barely recognized the voice that passed Draco's lips: tight and cautious.
"An old fortress in Ireland tucked near Muggles. It's going to be tricky," Ron said, his gaze intent on Draco. "But I promised you I would and I meant it. The team is ready."
"When?"
"Technically, that's classified…"
Draco snorted, rising to his feet and bracing his hands on the mantel above the fireplace. "Just tell me, Weasel."
The silence dragged on for a few long moments and Hermione felt frozen as she watched the pair. There was a time not long ago when this house had been untouched by the horrors of war— it seemed those days were gone.
"Tomorrow. Maybe the next."
Draco cleared his throat and turned back towards Ron, his eyes resting on Hermione briefly. "Lucius?"
Ron gulped, shifting in his seat. "He's demanding to see you. Won't say a word until he does."
Draco massaged the valley between his brows and Hermione found herself desperately wanting to comfort him in some small way.
"I'm going," he said, his eyes flashing at Ron. "On the mission to get my Mother."
"Mate, you know that's not up to me. Madeye wi—"
"If I die, that's on me. I'm not doing anyone any good from here anyway. I'm getting her out. No discussion."
Hermione's heart tightened before slamming against her ribcage like a wild bird in a cage. He talked about his death like no one would care.
It wasn't true.
She would care.
Ron nodded. "I'll talk to him."
Draco stood and walked out the back door, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Hermione felt a wave of rage crash around her, she stomped towards her friend, baring her teeth and wielding wild gestures with her hands. "Why would you tell him that?" she hissed.
Ron's brows fell in bewilderment. "Why wouldn't I? It's his mum, he deserves to know."
"You could have told him after! After she was safe!"
Shooting to his feet, his chest nearly bumped into her and she took a nervous step back. "What if she's not? I don't know why you can't understand this, but what we're doing? They aren't drills, Hermione. She might not be ok. She very well might already be dead. Our only Intel is standing in your backyard... We are working blind and we are doing the best we can." Ron's eyes were narrowed at her. "What if it was your mum? Would you forgive me for not telling you?"
Her jaw clenched together and she felt a weight settle on her chest. "No," she breathed. "No, I wouldn't forgive you. But I won't forgive you if either of you gets yourselves blown up either."
"We're always safe, Mione. Don't worry about us." Ron wrapped her in his arms, pressing his lips to her temple. The guilt overwhelmed her.
Ron left without saying goodbye to Malfoy.
Hermione nestled into the corner of the couch, draping a blanket over her legs and staring at the fire burning away long after the sun had set. Vivid visions of all the men she cared about dying by the hands of masked death eaters kept chewing away at her. Why did all the men in her life have to have giant targets on their backs?
The creak of the door cause Hermione to blink from her thoughts and they fell, thankfully on Draco's exhausted face. Her lips quirked up in a greeting. "Hi," Hermione breathed.
"Weasel gone?" The sharp point in his throat bobbed as he stared at her through lidded eyes.
"Yeah, some time ago now. He's gone to speak with Mad-Eye, hopefully, you'll be able to go." She smiled falsely, closing the book she'd been pretending to read and tossing it on the small table in front of her.
The corners of Draco's eyes tightened and he took a step further into the room."You don't want me to?"
Hermione snorted, rising to her feet and moving towards the kitchen behind her. "Well, that much should be obvious."
"Why?" Something in the way he stared at her, even from across the room stirred a longing deep inside her.
As welcome as those longings might be, Hermione felt they were entirely foreign and bristled under his scrutiny. "I don't want you to get hurt, or worse. You—you're my friend."
"Friend?" Draco's lips pulled up into a familiar smile. "I didn't know I had any of those left."
"Well, at least one," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear. She swallowed thickly and squared her shoulders at him. "Is there any way I can convince you to stay?"
"No."
She nodded firmly in response.
There should have been a fight; Hermione should have argued, reasoned, with him— that's what she excelled at. But where there once was fire, she felt a calm. A wave of courage tidaled over her and in moments she crashed into his arms.
Everything happened in a frenzy: his arms twisted around her lower back and she lunged for his mouth; their lips bruising and nipping at each other until they were panting.
His hands slid from her waist, sliding up her spine and curling in her curls before travelling to her bum and dragging her against him.
Hermione was normally a clumsy sort of witch; she never possessed the natural grace of an athlete and her dance teacher as a child told her she moved with the beauty of a rhinoceros. But in Draco's arms, she delicately tugged him back towards the closest room at the bottom of the stairs, tugging deftly at his shirt until it slid over his head and working the buttons of her own denims.
They toppled on top of each other, her back hitting the mattress as Draco caught himself before crushing her and he stared down at her with a heated glint in his eye.
His hands fell to the hem of her shirt and she sat up to assist him, her curls falling in a waterfall over her bare shoulders. She wished briefly that she didn't love pasta as much… or butter… or chocolate. It seemed a little late for that— so she decided Malfoy would have to do with the body she had currently. He didn't seem to mind.
Until this moment, she had been a lioness: confident and striking. However, with the air kissing her skin, insecurity took over. She hadn't exactly done this before. There had been stuff... but not this.
Should she tell him?
Maybe that would ruin the mood.
Maybe she shouldn't.
During her brief inner turmoil, Draco had successfully slid her denims from her legs. He planted wet kisses along her collarbone, down the valley of her breasts, all while he filled his hands with her.
It was becoming dangerously close to the point of no return, and she had better say something if she was going to at all.
"Um, Malfoy?" She panted over his shoulder, her eyes locked on the ceiling.
"Call me Draco," he purred, his hot breath in her ear sent goosebumps along her skin.
"Oh ok," she gulped shifting under the weight of him. "Draco? I should tell you something—"
Draco froze above her and pulled back to look at her properly, a nervous eyebrow raised high on his forehead.
"I — technically speaking — I'm, well I'm a virgin," she whispered the last word like a secret she didn't want anyone else to know about.
Draco shot up and Hermione almost whimpered as heat stained her cheeks.
"You're what?" Draco gaped down at her.
"Well, it's not a big deal, really. Just never got around to the actual act of it. With the war and my mental breakdown and all— been a little busy." Her shame was shifting to anger and it colored her voice as she spoke.
Draco shook his head, pushing away from her. "I can't take that from you."
Hermione's hands flew up, cradling the sides of his face and letting her thumbs trace a long line along his cheekbones.
Stupid boy. "You wouldn't be." Hermione lifted her trembling fingers to his cheek, cupping his face as he leaned into her touch. "I'm giving it to you. I'm ready, and I choose you."
"Granger. I might be dead tomorrow. You don't want to waste it—"
With an exaggerated groan, Hermione's hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck and she pulled his face down to hers until their lips met in a frenzy of perfectly synchronized movements. Each drag of his tongue caused the walls of her sex to quiver and even though every sensation was new— she wanted him in the most desperate kind of way.
"You'll come back," Hermione managed between kisses— mostly to herself.
Abandoning the rest of their clothing, Draco cupped her mound, poising his fingertips at the pooling wetness of her folds. His thumb swiped at her clit, eliciting a moan that Hermione could confidently say had never left her lips before.
He slipped one finger in, curling it inside her until her knees hitched up. She writhed under his touch for more, rolling her head back as she arched off the mattress. There was an endless longing to be filled and her hips seemed to translate that need into fucking his hand as he slipped another finger inside of her, drawing another moan from her.
Her trembling hands slid from his shoulders to the planes of his torso and when her timid fingers wrapped around the length of him; she reveled in the gasp that escaped his lips.
An unfamiliar pressure began to twist and coil deep in her belly as she rocked her hips against his hand and she knew that if she just kept going— suddenly an unexpected pleasure washed over her, and she froze; coming undone under his expert touch.
Hermione lips fell open as she dug her nails into his skin, twisting and shifting from her orgasm.
"We don't have to—" Her eyes flew open, and Draco was staring at her. His eyes, normally a cool silver, were a stormy gray and his pupils were blown wide.
Her nerves threatened to overtake her. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she shook her head. "I want to."
Draco studied her with careful eyes, and finally rolled on top of her, positioning himself at her entrance.
"Just— tell me if it's too much. I'll stop." He pressed a kiss against her lips before burying his face into the nape of her neck.
She squeezed her eyes shut as he pressed inside her. Gasping, she clenched her eyes shut as he filled her. It was an impossible sensation to describe. She felt impossibly stretched, filled until she was sure she couldn't take any more.
"Are you okay?" Draco's voice was strangled, almost desperate as he held his frame over her.
Hermione's eyes widened in worry as she noticed the tremble in his arms. "Does it hurt?"
"Merlin. How can you even ask that?" He chuckled into her skin, leaving a kiss against her clavicle. "You feel incredible, Hermione."
Hermione. She liked the sound of that…
The cage of his arms shook all around her and when she studied the delicate pull of his features she realized how very hard he was trying not to hurt her as he kept his composure.
"You can go again," she offered, kissing his shoulder and resting her hands on his hips, trying to pull him deeper past her discomfort.
Draco withdrew fractionally and pressed in again, a little groan rumbling in his throat. He moved slowly with her; each thrust gaining a little more momentum and soon Hermione found her knees hitched over his hips. She was sure he was still holding back, but he drove into her faster now, even his breath quickened against her neck.
The pressure faded and Hermione pulled him on top of her until he was almost crushing her, but the sensation shifted as he slid into her at a different angle; pleasure filled her as he rubbed against her clit with each thrust.
His hands froze on the soft flesh of her thigh as he shoved into her one… two… three more times and then collapsed on top of her.
Draco withdrew and rolled to his side, tucking her into his embrace and catching his breath. She fell asleep to the constant trailing of his fingers over her hip and kisses on her shoulder; a smile playing on her lips.
The early morning sun was pouring in through the sheer curtains of the downstairs bedroom. Draco's arm was lazily draped over her middle and Hermione could feel the air against her chest as she fought the tangle of sheets on her legs and kicked violently to free herself.
Pop! Hermione's heart quickened instantaneously at the crack of apparition nearby.
Just as she reached for the edge of the sheet, Draco snapped awake, grabbing his wand and pointing it at the sliver of open door.
She felt a wave of relief. Just Ron.
Hermione's normally sharp mind took too long to understand the angry pull of Ron's features and the way his teeth pulled up in a snarl as he stared at the two of them curled around each other in a nest of bedsheets.
Somewhere deep in her chest— she felt a piece of her shatter. "Ron!" she cried, tears springing from her eyes as she frantically pulled the sheet to cover herself.
The disbelief and anger stewing in Ron's expression left her speechless.
Suddenly a blank expression ghosted over her friends normally happy features. "Malfoy. You've got clearance. Be outside in five minutes."
Ron turned on his heel, leaving the door hanging open and Hermione let out a sob as Draco shot from their bed.
Draco was already halfway dressed before she could make sense of what had just happened. "I'll be back tonight. Don't worry."
Traitorous tears streaked down her cheek and she grabbed for any fabric she could wrap her fingers into, settling for his shirt. "You can't— you can't just leave!"
"Be back soon— promise. Too many of those idiots have tried to put me in the ground, and not one of them have figured it out yet." He brushed a few curls back behind her ear and her fingers tightened on the sheet between them.
Without another word, he grabbed his shirt from the floor and was gone.
A single sound of apparition haunted the air and Hermione was alone.