I'm sorry for the late update, but at least it's only a week late, right? Alpha and Beta loves to mcal because she cheered me through even as I wanted to scrap this. I would never make my monthly deadlines if not for her. In chapter seven we have a lot of snogging, some smut for those of you waiting for it, forced proximity hijinks, cute Scorpius, and a Friends reference. Mostly in that order.
Hermione
In the week after Scorpius returned to Oxford, both of their lives imploded. Draco managed calls, and texts when he could—during a break, which were usually interrupted by Katie saying that they have a patient en route, and he promised that this would die down, and they would make time for the other again—and Hermione sat in her chair while staring at the walls of her office. She didn't like the feeling welling up in the pit of her stomach, twisting on itself over and over again.
She missed him, perhaps too much for something that was technically new, but Charlie had pointed out how they'd been dancing around each other since Valentine's Day. It wasn't new at all, he claimed, and he also said that she ought to just surprise him at his flat with breakfast while he worked overnight shifts.
Tapping her pen against the legal pad in front of her, Hermione drew her lip between her teeth. The weekend had already passed them by, turning into a bitter Monday wrought with rain and cloudy, grey skies that hung outside the window.
There was a rap on the door, and she nearly let her head fall to the desk. "Padma, if it's your article again, we'll need to look at it tomorrow. I'm swamped—"
The door swung open slowly, and Draco stepped inside, holding a coffee and a small bag from the Three Broomsticks. "Uh, Padma told me that you would say you were swamped, but she also told me to ignore you. But if you're really busy, we could see each other tonight."
Hermione sprung out of her seat, hurrying around her desk. "No, no, I can make time. It's no problem at all. I thought you worked tonight though?" She stepped aside as he passed her, setting her drink, and the bag on her desk. "It's only," she glanced down at her watch, "four o'clock."
He tilted her head up with his finger, smirking. "I can lose an hour of sleep, especially if it means seeing you. We've barely had a minute to ourselves this week."
A gentle smile curved her lips. "Thank you." Hermione sipped her drink, eager to have something in her hands before she snogged his where anyone could walk in. "I missed you."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm surprised. I barely gave you time to miss me with how often I call you."
He was exaggerating. "I'll have you know that I enjoyed every single call, and I could have done with a few more if you'd had the time."
Draco plucked the drink from her hands, abandoning it on her desk before cupping her face. He kissed her softly, threading his fingers into her hair while backing her to the edge of her desk.
As his tongue swept across her bottom lip, Hermione was intimately aware of his hand skimming her side, coming to rest on her hip, and the tightening in her belly. "Unless you want us to end up on the couch, I think we shouldn't get too carried away." Hermione whispered, but a low keening noise left her when his fingers dug into her hips, and he nipped her lips.
"You do have the blinds drawn," Draco rasped.
"Padma has been in here no less than six times today. She walks by to see if I'm busy, and if I'm not, she'll storm in. So far, the deterrent has worked."
He laughed. "Do you have time for an early dinner?"
She swallowed. On one hand, yes, she absolutely wanted to soak up as much time with him as she could. On the other, she knew that he was sacrificing sleep. As a grown man, it was his choice, but she couldn't help but feel a little guilty for it. "Are you sure?"
"I slept once I got home this morning," Draco murmured, his lips skimming her jaw. "Not a full eight hours since my mother called at noon, but I can catch up after you leave."
Hermione nodded then, smiling. "Of course. I'll just leave early for today, but would you mind picking me up at my flat? I really don't want to go to dinner wearing this."
At her words, Draco stared at her joggers, and the alumni shirt she wore. "I hadn't noticed what you were wearing, honestly."
Her laugh bubbled up. "I've been here since five this morning. I have not left my office once."
She was certain he was about to ask her why she'd been in the office so early, but her door swung open. "Do you have a second?" Padma asked as she looked from Hermione to Draco. "I've finished, but I'd love a second opinion if you have the time."
"Can you email it to me? I'm actually leaving for the day, but I can read it tonight."
"That'll be perfect," Padma replied, and closed the door with a soft click behind her.
Hermione packed her belongings away in her bag before sliding the strap over her shoulder. As they exited her office, his hand easily found hers, and he threaded their fingers together. "Where would you like to go?" She asked.
As they stepped inside the lift, someone called for them to hold the door. Draco smirked when he didn't oblige.
Her mouth fell open. "You—"
The lift shuddered as it began its descent, and only a few seconds passed before Draco pressed her to the wall, and slammed his hand onto the emergency stop. He silenced her with a kiss that was rougher than the one in her office. Curling his fingers in her hair, his nails scraping her scalp, she slumped between him and the wall.
She whispered his name, letting it fall away as his knee slid between her legs. "We can't take too long. Someone will get suspicious."
The low chuckle that left him sent a chill unfurling down her spine.
Her peers surely already assumed they were snogging in the lift. So did it really matter if she gave into it for a moment? Gasping, Hermione slid her hands up his chest, and fisted his shirt in her hands.
His lips slanted against hers, stealing the breath from her lungs until a buzzer went off above their heads. "We should—" Hermione breathed. "We should probably stop."
Draco pushed her hair away from her face. "Probably."
She forced herself to look up even though she was certain it would only make her was to drag him back to her. "After dinner…?" Hermione mused, pulling his hand away from the button and the lift began to move. "I mean, it's not the weekend."
He righted her shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles as she fixed her hair. "We'll call it an extended weekend."
Hermione laughed. "That's not how it works."
He took her bag from her, and Hermione ignored the curious looks cast by the receptionist as they left the building. He'd parked close to her, swiping an empty spot from Seamus. "Do you want to go to a restaurant, or would you rather I cook?"
Clicking the button of her key fob, she replied, "I think a quiet dinner at yours sounds nice. You don't mind?"
Draco shook her head, opening the passenger door, and setting her bag in the seat. "Not in the least. While you go home, I'll pick up a few things from Sainsbury's."
Caught between her car, and his chest, Hermione peered up at him. There was a slow smile creeping across his face, and she fidgeted with the hem of his thin shirt. "What is it?"
"Your co-workers are staring at us." He laughed, ducking his head down, and pressing his lips to hers. "I'll see you soon?"
Hermione resisted the urge to run her fingers over her lips. "I'll just come to yours after I change? Just let me know whenever you're home." Watching as he opened her door for her, Hermione pecked his cheek. "Also, if you're up to it, Harry and Ron would like to meet you this weekend. We're going out to a pub, so if you have the time…" She trailed off.
Honestly, what had she been thinking? Dropping the request on him out of the blue wasn't going to make it any more likely for him to say yes. Still, he surprised her anyway. "Which day?"
"Friday." She was hyper-aware of his finger trailing the inside of her wrist, tracing the veins of her arm. "You really don't have to come. I don't want you to obligated." Great. Babbling would certainly help.
Seconds passed before his shoulders relaxed. "I'll see what I can do." He told her quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll see you soon."
There was a text message waiting from Ginny when she parked in front of her complex, a simple message that asked her when she would have time to meet over coffee. Hermione thought it odd, but didn't question it. She quickly replied that she would be free later in the week, and they could go whenever worked best for Ginny.
Her keys jingled as she rushed up the steps, careful not to trip over the hem of her joggers, or even worse, completely miss a step. Swiping through her notifications—all forms of social media, her personal email, and the few text messages from a group chat she shared with Harry and Ron—she didn't notice that anything was out of order.
Not until she reached up to unlock her door without looking, and the door creaked open on it's own. She swallowed, her heart lodging in her throat as her eyes snapped up. Right in front of her, her door was already cracked. Through the space, she could see her coffee table overturned.
She sprinted down the steps, pressing the phone to her ear in the same movement.
Draco answered smoothly, within just a moment, which she always appreciated, but she liked it even more at the moment. "I already asked you what you wanted to eat, so if you're calling to change your mind—"
"I think my flat was broken into." Hermione spat out, not angrily, as she attempted to catch her breath. "The door is open, and my furniture is overturned. I was going to look inside myself, but—"
"No," Draco replied, all his playfulness gone from his voice. "That's not safe for you to do."
She nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "No, of course not. I'm on my way to speak with my landlord right now so I can call the police. But I wanted to say that I probably won't make dinner."
On the other end of the line, he spluttered. She could envision him clearly in the middle of the aisle at the grocery, his features contorted in confusion. "That's perfectly fine. Just give me ten minutes, and I'll be right there."
Her eyebrows shot up. "If you want to," Hermione murmured. She quickly ended the phone call, and made her way into the office.
The police responded within ten minutes, and somehow, Draco had still beaten them when it ought to have taken him fifteen minutes. She supposed that said something, but didn't take time to ponder it as she sat on the asphalt. An hour passed with him at her side, and he was silent as she wrote across her portfolio, her pen on the verge of snapping as she pressed too hard.
He'd brought her a sugary drink that he had likely only seen her drink once, and handed it out to her from where he stood. "What did your landlord say?" Draco sat beside her, stretching his legs in front of him. "Hermione?"
She sighed heavily, glancing up at him. "There were other units burglarized today. I was the first to report it, but as more tenants arrived home…" Hermione dragged a hand down her face. "My neighbor—the elderly woman, Mrs Norris, you've met her."
"Unfortunately." He chuckled, no doubt recalling the day he'd mistakenly woken the woman.
Hermione didn't laugh. "She was home today when her flat was broken into. They beat her, rather viciously from what I've heard so far, which isn't much. Her husband discovered her and they're taking her to St Mungos."
Colour drained from his face. She knew what was going through his head without hearing a word. Just next door to her flat. If she'd been unlucky, if she'd come home sooner. "Fuck."
She nodded to that. "Harry and Ginny offered for me to stay with them for a few nights. They're not going to let me into my flat tonight, and I wouldn't want to sleep there anyway."
Rubbing circles in her back, Draco pulled her to him. "You could do that, but if you'd like, my spare is open."
She tensed, turning into him and burying her face in her shoulder. "I'd like that." Hermione admitted, finding his free hand. "I promise not to be a bother."
He laughed quietly, swiping his thumb across her knuckles.
Having been to Draco's flat before, more than once at that, she shouldn't have felt so out of place. But as she sat on the sofa with her legs tucked neatly below her, she felt increasingly out of place. Hermione had only visited before, and granted while the last visit had nearly led to her staying the night, she hadn't expected to actually stay the night. At least not under the current circumstances.
Harry and Ron were worried, rightfully so, and had threatened in no uncertain terms that if anyone tried to break into her flat again, they would sorely regret it. It was true, especially if Hermione had anything to say about it. She'd run through all sorts of scenarios in her head in the hours since Draco had left.
What would she have done had she been home?
If it had been her and not poor Mrs Norris?
She was certain Draco had pondered the exact question, but he had the good nature not to mention it.
If she'd been in the sitting room, the lamp that always set to her right would have made a nice weapon in the moment. It was more than the cane that had been found lying beside her neighbor, If she were in the kitchen, there was a trove of household items she could have used—a knife from the block on the counter, a handled pan if she panicked, which she would have. There was nothing in her bedroom she could have used. The bat Ron had gifted her as a tentative 'present' was buried in the back of her closet.
The telly flickered as a commercial spans the screen, and her mobile vibrated against the table, jarring her from the morbid re-enactment her mind had conjured. She snatched it up, and answered the call, placing it on speaker. "Shouldn't you be saving lives?"
Static crackled as he laughed. "Not at the moment. I'll update you as the situation changes."
"Ah," Hermione replied, picking at her socks while shifting. "Have you run out of emergency personnel to yell at as well?"
"You can't see it, but there's a definite chance that I just rolled my eyes. I thought you should know." Draco said. "No, no one to yell at, which I don't make a habit of anyway."
Her programme resumed, but she was quick to mute it. "How is your shift?"
"It's a quiet night. No—" She assumed he had covered his phone as he spoke to someone else, "you'll find that room on the next floor. Take the lift to level six, and take a right. Sorry, are you busy?"
She looked around the sitting room. There's a half eaten sandwich, and her laptop that is still staring back at her, mocking her to work on the beginning of a project. "Oh, I'm just swamped." Hermione smiled. "No, I'm picking at a project, but I just can't sleep."
There was the sound of him swallowing. "Because of your flat?"
"Partially. I don't sleep well to begin with. Why else would I be in the Three Broomsticks at three in the morning?" Hermione laid her head on the back of the sofa, her shoulders relaxing.
Draco cleared his throat. "There was something I wanted to discuss with you." He let a second pass, and she didn't say a word. "I don't want you to return to your flat until police have arrested the perpetrator."
Hermione paused, staring at the phone. "And you would like me to stay here?" She asked, clearing her throat.
"If you like, the offer is open for as long as you need to. Or if you don't feel comfortable with that, I would understand, but I truly don't think you should—"
"I'll stay." Hermione replied. "Also, I've already started eating your food."
If there was going to be an awkward silence, she'd destroyed it.
Draco burst into laughter. "I have to go." He told her, cutting their conversation short. "Is there a chance you'll tell me what you're working on later?"
She glanced at what she had, which was the characterization of a possible male lead. "I don't think so." Hermione murmured quietly, hoping it would mask her nervousness.
An hour later, Hermione took a picture of herself in the middle of his kitchen, standing in front of his fridge. It was half past four, and every thump inside the flat made her jump.
To Draco, 4:26 A.M.: Eating your food.
Hermione crawled into bed—in the spare bedroom—minutes later. The pillow was soft under her head, and she closed her eyes, only to sit back up as her phone vibrated again.
To Hermione, 4:31 A.M.: Saved it. You're adorable.
A warm feeling coiled in her stomach as she gave a sleepy smile. Another message shortly followed, and a picture popped up across her screen. Draco sat in what she recognised as the cafeteria, smirking into the camera as he lifted his water bottle.
If he said anything about the long string of heart eye emoticons she sent, Hermione would blame it on lack of sleep.
And she saved the photo as well.
Draco
As a result of their custody agreement, he was obligated to inform Astoria of any changes to his living arrangement. Surprisingly, she had taken the news without spewing venom through the phone.
"Someone broke into her flat?" Tori echoed. "God's sake, what side of London is she living in?" She sounded concerned, and Draco would have never associated a warm quality with his ex-wife where Hermione was concerned.
He swallowed his tea as he made his commute home. "Not a bad part of the city, but terrible things can occur anywhere. Her neighbor was found beaten."
"It's lucky that Hermione wasn't there then." She agreed. "That's just terrible. I hope they found the culprit soon. As for Scorpius, it's fine."
Maybe it was the shock that caused him to offer involuntary information. "She's staying in the spare room."
Astoria sighed. "Draco, I don't care, and for future reference, please don't feel like you should tell me when she's sleeping with you."
His grip on the steering wheel tightened.
She continued. "I'm trying to be supportive."
That was—
"And I will likely never like Hermione, given you are my ex-husband, and she is your girlfriend. However, our son adores her. I do think it might be for the best if you have that conversation with him soon, just so he understands."
What in the fuck was going on?
"Are you going to say something, or are you staring into space while you realise that I'm not a witch?"
Astoria hadn't made him laugh in a long time. "I'm shocked is all."
She sighed again. "Don't get used to it." That was more like her. "Scorpius will be over the moon that he can have a sleepover with her. He was put out when he came home last month after you'd told him no."
"I just—"
Astoria cut him off, probably waving him off too. "I know. Before you go, I'd like to tell you that Theo has been helping me. I didn't send him to your party to start another feud. I was ill that morning, and I didn't feel up to presenting myself. I'm sure he made an arse out of himself anyway, but I didn't use him to hurt you."
"Not this time." It slipped out before he thought it through. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is ridiculous. I don't care if you spend time with him. What's done is done, and we should move forward from it. I've done a poor job of it. What were you ill with?"
"Nothing," she replied quickly. "Just a mild cold. A bit of medicine fixed me right up. Sending Theo was tactless, and I should have called you, but I was petty. I apologise."
The morning only grew stranger and stranger. "It's alright. Hermione… She knows about Theo. Suffice to say, the meeting didn't go very well for them."
"Did he deserve it?" She asked, and he could remember the way she used to smile mischievously.
"He did." Draco didn't go into any more details. The truce would be temporary, even though he hoped for the best. "I'll see you next week." Pocketing his mobile, he let himself into his flat.
He found Hermione sitting on the kitchen island, her legs crossed at the ankles. She was dressed for work, a black pencil skirt, and a pretty blouse that he wanted to peel off her as soon as he saw her.
"Good morning," she greeted him cheerfully. There were dark circles under her eyes that made him wonder just how much her insomnia affected her. "I was about to leave, but I thought I'd like to see you before."
Hermione had a tell when she was nervous, and it was often. She nibbled her lower lip, and it only endeared her to him. Gripping the edge of the counter, she tilted her head to the side.
He set his cup down roughly, squeezing it too tightly, and dark liquid escaped from the slot at the top. Draco closed the distance between them, the corner of his mouth lifting, and she reached for him.
As her fingers curled in the material of his shirt, Hermione yanked him forward and pressed her lips to his. Where she had styled her hair, his fingers tangled in it, his touch smoothing a path along the nape of her neck.
She whimpered, slumping into the curve of him, and he had the irresponsible thought of whether it was possible to keep her for the entire day.
Images of fantasies that he'd already had flickered across the front of his mind, his thoughts already taking off quickly to stray.
Her hair would be spread across his sheets, her curls crushed as he pressed into her—
Draco's hands fell from her hair, and skimmed down her sides, brushing against her breasts. Taken by surprise when he noticed that her pupils were dilated, he wanted to pull her from the counter, and wrap her legs around his waist.
"I have to go." Hermione whispered, hooking her leg around the back of his knee. "But I don't want to."
He kissed her neck, and then the hollow of her throat, noting how she mewled when his teeth grazed her skin. "We could have lunch together." Draco suggested.
She panted, her nails biting into his shoulders. "Are we going to actually eat?"
He pondered it for a moment. "I doubt it, unless you really want to spend your lunch that way."
"Oh," Hermione rolled her eyes. "God forbid I eat instead of spending my break snogging you." Her sarcasm never went amiss. Lowering her gaze, she quietly admitted, "I'd like to have lunch."
"Is that a euphemism for—"
"Shut up!"
Hermione
They did eat lunch that afternoon, but she'd also conveniently drawn the blinds in her office hours before his arrival. And spent the better part of an hour snogging him while jumping at every wayward sound outside of her office. The week passed quickly as they settled into a pattern while she stayed with him. Hermione still worried she was a bother, and he was quick to reassure her, but it struck her in silent moments while Draco was asleep down the corridor.
That was the other thing.
They were dancing around a ridiculous amount of sexual tension—she knew it wasn't just her who wanted to tear his clothes off—and something had to give. In his effort to always be a gentleman, Hermione thought she would have to make the first move soon. Not that it bothered her either.
"How is it? Staying with him, I mean," Ginny asked over the phone. "Charlie started a pool about when the two of you will shag."
Hermione balanced her mobile between her ear and her shoulder. "Oh, you're joking. Who bet on it?"
Ginny's laugh was breezy. "Everyone in the family, but Bill and Percy so far. Even Mum and Dad decided to test their luck."
She winced as she reached for her water bottle. "I didn't need to know that Molly and Arthur are betting on my sex life."
"I know, it's a little horrifying. But honestly, the last Sunday dinner was a riot. There's a whole 'will they, won't they' conversation going on. Of course, I said you definitely would."
Draco stepped into the kitchen, his pajama bottoms slung low on his waist, and her mouth dried.
"You would say that." Hermione replied, brushing her bangs from her sweaty forehead. "Well, I'm sure you'll be the third person to know when that happens."
"If you could," there was a crash in the background, "possibly fall into one another's arms sometime between the fifteenth and the seventeenth…"
Draco stepped behind her, settling his hands on her hips while pushing her shirt up. His fingers skimmed the bare skin there, and her voice caught in her throat. Hermione swallowed hard. "I actually think today would be better. Possibly right now?"
The elastic of her leggings snapped against her skin as he tugged on it. Draco pressed open mouthed kissed down her neck, and shoulder, and she could feel the smirk curving his lips. "Important conversation?" He rasped.
Ginny screeched, "Hermione, no! You can hold on, it's three hundred pounds. If you were my friend—"
She laughed breathlessly. "Three hundred?'
"I'll even split it with you." Ginny said in a hurry. "You can't let Harry win. He'll never let me forget it."
While that was true, Draco's fingers dancing along her waistband wasn't helping her conviction. "I'll let you know." Hermione murmured, hanging up, and cutting Ginny off mid-sentence as her voice shot up several octaves. "You're home early." It sounded so domestic, she almost wished she hadn't said it.
It sounded bold, as if she thought this was home, and that was ridiculous. Obviously. She had only thought too much into it. Given their close proximity, sharing the bathroom attached to the master bedroom because she couldn't deny that it was so much nicer than the one in the corridor, it should have been expected.
"Drove like mad to beat the traffic," Draco said, pressing his fingers into her hips and dragging his lips down her throat. "You always leave early, and I wanted to see you."
Her heartbeat was erratic. "It's Saturday." Hermione giggled, reaching up to sink her fingers into his hair. "I don't go into work on the weekends."
He paused. "Oh."
"I think you need to sleep. You have no idea what day of the week it is." Hermione turned to face him, cupping his cheeks and pulling him closer.
The edge of the counter dug into her back, sharp and solid, reminding her just where she was. His arms circled her middle tightly, lifting her onto the counter as he often did, and all thoughts of teasing him left her.
A low groan tumbled from him lips as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into his back and urging him closer.
Hermione reached for the hem of his shirt, bundling it in her grip as she tugged it. "Off. Now," she panted. Holding onto the counter, she watched as he tugged it over his head, discarding it in the kitchen floor. There was a long scar stretching across his chest, from one pectoral all the way down to the other side just over his ribcage.
It was something she could ask about later.
He lifted her shirt over her head, tearing his mouth from hers, and she whimpered at the loss. Draco paused, his gaze raking over her, and he picked her up from the counter.
Hermione squeaked, clinging to him as he carried her down the corridor. "What are you doing?"
"Is it not obvious?" Draco kicked open the door leading into his bedroom, her back brushing the wood as he stepped inside.
Her voice caught in her throat, and Hermione swallowed as he set her at the foot of the bed.
Draco dropped to his knees in front of her. "You're beautiful." He kissed the inside of her wrists, and pulled her forward by her hips.
Her breathing was ragged as he peppered kisses across her collarbone, his tongue darting out to slide against the sensitive skin. She focused on the way his hands slid up her sides, his thumbs brushing against the fabric beneath her breasts. If she'd thought—expected—this would happen so suddenly, a sports bra wouldn't have been her first choice.
But he didn't seem to mind it.
"I can—" Hermione began as he reached to pull it over her head. "It's kind of a pain to get off." She admitted with a laugh.
Draco's eyes darkened as he looked over her, his thumbs hooking in the waistband of her leggings. "Yes, you should do that immediately." And then the shrill ringtone of his mobile pierced the air, and her hands fell away from her chest. "Wait, just hold that thought." Draco said. "It's my mother; I'll call her later."
Hermione shook her head. "The moment is already… Go ahead and answer it. What if it's important?"
He sighed.
It turned out that it had been important, and it had actually been Scorpius on the other end of the phone, and not Narcissa. Hermione leaned against the washer, now wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top while her hair was piled loosely on top of her hair as it dried, listening as Draco reassured his son that it had only been a bad dream.
Draco hunched over the island, staring at his phone where it was propped up against a pile of books he'd left there the night before. From where Hermione stood, she could see the patch of bare skin where his shirt rode up.
"Is 'Mione there?"
Draco glanced at her, nodding for her to come over. "She is. Would you like to say hello?"
Hermione crossed the space between them, climbing into the stool beside Draco. "Morning, Scorpius." She grinned, reaching over to turn the mobile toward her. "I heard you had a bad dream. Are you okay?"
His lower lip wobbled, and he blinked rapidly. "Daddy says it was just a dream." Scorpius said, taking the mobile in his hands and running down the corridor.
There was a distant, "Scorpius, no running in the corridors!" that Hermione assumed was Lucius. It was of little matter considering Scorpius ignored him and carried on.
Draco sniggered, dragging his hand down his face.
Scorpius lifted his hand from the camera, and she recognised his bedroom that he'd shown her before. "Why are you at Daddy's?"
She froze. Hermione hadn't considered that question, and she certainly had no idea how she could answer it.
The man at her side recovered instantly. "Hermione's home was broken into. It's not safe for her to stay there, so she's staying with me for a while."
His son nodded. "Are you scared?"
Hermione's lips twitched. "I'm alright."
"Cause if you get scared, there's a stuffed dragon in my room you can sleep with." Scorpius fidgeted with the bedspread, and there was a large dragon plush to the right of him. "You can borrow him."
"That's very kind of you." Hermione rested her cheek on her knuckles, bracing her elbow against the counter. "Tell me about your week."
Scorpius told her about Ms McGonagall, a classmate named Lucy that he didn't like very much, and how he wanted to read through naptime, and he hadn't been allowed to. There was a movie he wanted to watch at the cinema, but Astoria hadn't felt well, so they hadn't gone.
"Could the three of us go?" Scorpius asked, picking under his nails.
Draco looked at her, seeking an answer, and she nodded. "That sounds fun." Hermione easily agreed.
Draco
After Scorpius' morning phone call, they hadn't gotten that moment back. Hermione met each of his looks with a smug smile—as if she knew just what he was thinking, imagining even—over the course of the morning.
She'd reminded him that they were meeting her friends at a pub. He hadn't forgotten, but Draco found himself pondering ways to possibly reschedule it so he could have her to himself.
It didn't go that way at all.
Settled into the soda with one arm slung around her shoulders, Draco couldn't focus on the documentary she'd picked. She consistently asked if he minded watching it, spouting some nonsense that no one ever liked to watch them with her, and he cocked his head to the side.
"Hermione, I could watch you do anything all day long." His fingers brushed the nape of her neck, and he didn't miss the small shiver that ran through her. "Your previous partners didn't care to watch them then?"
She shook her head.
He thought that was a shame. Each time a new piece of information was introduced—this particular programme was about whales in captivity, and she was furious—her eyes lit up.
He dragged his finger down her throat before running it down her collarbone. Wondering what the divuts of her spine would feel like while she were under him—
"You're distracting." Hermione chewed her lower lip, her eyes wide, but she still had the presence of mind to pause the telly.
The corner of his mouth twitched as she caught his hand, her small fingers wrapping around his. "I like to be distracting."
Her eyebrows lifted. "Oh?" Hermione laughed. "I couldn't tell." Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him.
"You like when I'm distracting." Draco pointed out, his voice a low rumble from his chest. "Don't you, Hermione?"
Her breath caught, and then she was in his lap, confidently crawling into his lap while her thighs hugged the outside of his. "Maybe." Her tongue darted out, sliding along the seam of her lips.
Inviting.
"Just maybe?" Draco lifted his head as her hands slid over his shoulders, her palms warm through the thin material while her nails cut into his skin. He found her hips, inching her oversized shirt up, circling the soft skin there.
"Perhaps not just a maybe." She breathed. Her mouth was on his, her thighs tightening around him while she straddled him. "We'll be late if we start this."
He didn't comment that they had an hour before they had to be there. There was the fact that she would change, or do her makeup, and the drive was only ten minutes. A snogging session, or more, didn't have any place—she was fucking talking, and he wasn't listening.
Hermione pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as she drew away. "They'll absolutely know what we were doing, or they'll assume they know."
Swallowing, he held her hair tightly, drawing her back to him. "You could make yourself presentable on the way."
Her laugh bubbled up, and Hermione twisted them, tugging him down on top of her. "Come here."
His shirt went first, and she rolled him onto his side to scoot down the sofa. Kissing the scar she'd been eyeing earlier in the day, Draco's eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck!"
Hermione cupped him through his trousers, stroking him through the fabric. She let him pin her to the cushions, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as he moved over her.
Draco pushed her shirt up her stomach, and watched her throw it over the armrest. He didn't notice that she'd changed out of her previous bra until she mentioned she'd hoped something like this would happen, and he swallowed roughly. "Bloody fucking hell." Pulling the cups of her bra down, her breasts spilled from the fabric, and his lips closed around her nipple.
Wiggling under him, gasping what he presumed was his name broken into more syllables than it was worth. Tugging strands of his hair, and pushing her hips against his, Hermione's back arched. "Oh, that's—"
His teeth grazed the pert tip, and her voice broke.
She kicked her leggings off, heavily breathing while meeting his eyes. "What?" She grinned. "I know what I want."
To prevent himself from embarrassing himself, Draco focused on rendering her unable to speak. Her stomach was flat below his lips, toned from the regimen she took seriously every morning when he heard her door creak open.
Like he expected—she second guessed most things, and he was going to be sure to do what he could to change that, another time—Hermione tensed and attempted to close her thighs as his tongue slid against the seam of her knickers.
Pretty. Lace.
Rippable.
Of course, he wouldn't do that, but Draco considered it.
"Trust me?" He asked quietly, peering up at her. "Do you not like it?"
"No! I mean, I don't dislike it. I just—" Hermione broke off, and shook her head. "It's nothing."
He didn't particularly believe that at all. It was something, and it seemed to bother her, but it could be discussed later. Draco grinned when she parted her legs, and allowed him to hook his fingers into either side of her knickers to tug them down. They landed under the coffee table, and he pressed her leg against the cushions beside her, kneeling before her.
Her eyes were dark as she watched him, and she shuddered as his fingers inched up her inner thighs. "Please." She groaned, wetting her lips. "Draco, please,"
Leaning forward, Draco flattened his tongue against the small bundle of nerves, slowly sliding one finger inside her tight folds.
She rocked above him, her knees closing as her back arched. "That's... oh—" Hermione gripped his hair tightly, pressing herself closer.
Two fingers, slowly thrusting into her, and curling in tempo with her moans. The pace quickened as she moaned breathily, "More, Draco, I—"
Watching her, hearing her, fall apart just below his mouth was one of the most gorgeous things he'd ever experienced.
Hermione
Climbing off the couch, mostly nude, Hermione had dashed into the spare room to change. The pub was one she and her friends frequented—the same pub she had picked Ron up in April when everything suddenly fell apart, and fell back together in a different way—so she dressed casually. A fitted pair of jeans that hugged her arse, and she delighted in the way Draco's eyes lingered, and darkened a fraction.
Her shirt wasn't anything to write home about, just a nicer blouse that she didn't wear to work since it showed her cleavage a smidge more than she needed Dean to see.
But, Draco seemed to like it as he eyed her appreciatively. "You look beautiful." Dipping his head down, he kissed her slowly, letting his fingers twine in her hair. "I should stop or we won't get out the door."
"I like these jeans." Hermione pinched his bum and hurried out the door with a laugh. Looking behind her, she saw him step over a puddle while grumbling.
Hermione had told him it would Harry and Ron. She'd mentioned that Charlie might tag along, since he'd become a close friend since moving back to London. But when they pulled into the parking lot, the sun steadily setting, Hermione recognised the vehicles of an entire slew of Weasleys, plus Harry.
Burying her face in her hands, she muttered, "We don't have to go in. They're honestly overwhelming. Don't look at me that way."
He wasn't laughing, but the amusement reached his eyes. "They're your friends, love. I would have met them anyway."
"I know that."
"Then what's the problem?"
Thing was, Hermione didn't know. There was no reason to be so nervous with someone who she knew as well as she did, who had seen her bare in more ways than one, but the moment they stepped into the pub, Hermione understood they were under scrutiny. Even though her makeshift family meant well while her own parents were normally absent, meeting them together made everything real.
A step she was completely, absolutely—pick any synonym, she thought—ready for.
But she didn't want the little things.
Charlie: enter older brother type, who was burly and terrifying, but was an actual teddy bear.
Ron: ex, which was nothing, but he tried to grill her dates, and his worst flaw was to be overbearing.
Harry: would actually give the "If you hurt her…" speech despite her not needing it one bit.
Ginny: fuck, Ginny—
"Your nose twitches when you panic," Draco mused, his grip loose on the steering wheel. "Do you want to talk about why you're more nervous than I would normally expect?"
Hermione wasn't surprised by the observation, but she answered with, "My nose twitches?"
"Incredibly endearing too. You look like a mouse."
Any of the mice she'd seen were anything she wanted to look like. "A mouse?" Hermione repeated.
Draco seemed to catch where her mind went. "A very cute mouse." He stretched an arm across the centre console. "Can I ask you something? If you don't answer, I won't be upset, but I think it's about to come up anyway."
She bit her bottom lip. "Shoot."
"In your previous relationships, did you second guess yourself much?" He rubbed her knuckles as she clammed up. "I've noticed it, more so lately rather than when we kept bumping into one another, but I'd like to say that I'm not going to brush off any concerns you have."
Swallowing, Hermione peered out of the car, her eyes darting to the sunset and then to the door that swung open and there was a flash of Weasley brand red. "Sometimes, but it's always over the most ridiculous things."
He shook his head. "It's not. If it worries you, then it worries me." Draco shifted in his seat. "What worries me is that you might be afraid to be honest with me."
Tension concentrated the air, and her stomach churned. "I'd rather not air the worst parts about myself, but I've never had a relationship go very well. So, I suppose," Hermione breathed. "I'm a little worried that once you meet everyone, this goes wrong. It's a juvenile fear, and I'll be twenty-eight next month, but…"
His smile wasn't forced, and her shoulders relaxed. "Say no more. I understand."
"You do?"
He nodded. "Did you know that I was worried you wouldn't be interested once you learned I had a son?"
"But I met Scorpius before we ever,"
"Well, yes. It's more apt to say I was worried that the novelty of my cute son would wear off, and once you realised he was non-negotiable, that a divorced parent of one wouldn't be your speed."
"There's a joke to be said about whether you're my speed, but I'll let that go. It wasn't that funny anyway. Scorpius isn't a novelty. I would never think that about you or him."
He smiled, and it was the same one from the day the two of them went grocery shopping, and she'd been starstruck. "Watching you give my son attention, and being so thrilled to do so is more than I could have hoped for. You met my ex-wife without batting an eye, and you were quick to my defence. I think that you're wonderful, and I can't reassure you that this will never end when we don't know what the future will hold."
"I'm not asking you to promise—"
Draco looked like he wanted to kiss her. "But I have a good feeling about it. Call it instinct."
Her mouth dried.
"And I expect that your friends will realise exactly that because I am utterly besotted with you."
It did not matter that they were in his car, with albeit heavily tinted windows, while there was still daylight. What did it matter if anyone saw them?
Hermione lunged across the console, kissing him wildly as he held her in his lap. "I think they're outside." He murmured against her lips.
"Are they staring?"
"Yes." He chuckled.
"Should we give them something to stare at?"
While being sure to not break any actual laws beyond the ones of societal norms, Draco had done exactly that. Warmth had coiled in the pit of her stomach, and she didn't pull her hand from his as they sat in a large booth with everyone.
As her own insecurity, and it didn't come up often, Hermione didn't discuss her anxiety. It had reared its ugly head, and Draco had reassured her unlike anyone else ever had, and she was left to contemplate his words—turning them around and upside down—while he fetched drinks with Charlie.
"So, did I win the bet?" Harry asked, tipping his beer to his lips while smirking. "Looks like I won it while you in the parking lot."
Draco's hands had strayed, but nowhere indecent. His fingers skimmed the sides of her breasts, and he'd dragged his thumbs across her stiff nipples through her shirt, but they hadn't shagged in public like degenerates.
Hermione sighed. "You did not, but how dare you bet on my sex life."
Ron spit up at her side, choking on a laugh that had literally bubbled up while taking a long drink.
"But," she continued. "That depends on the constraints of the bet. Does it have to be actual intercourse? There are plenty of other things one can do."
Plugging his ear while apologising, Ron shut out the conversation.
Harry's eyes narrowed while Ginny threw her fist into the air. "Actual sex, 'Mione."
She clicked her tongue. "Then, no. You didn't win at all." Hermione ended the conversation before Draco could return. As open as he was, she didn't want to introduce the entirety of her friends' antics before he'd known them for an hour. But I did, Hermione thought with a quiet laugh.
Draco slid into the booth at her side, laying an arm on the booth around her shoulders. He was still laughing with Charlie, and Charlie's face was bright red to match his hair.
"I like him." Charlie declared simply.
It was easy, not like falling, but like wading as she smiled at the man beside her. "What did you say to him?" Hermione asked.
"I'll tell you later." Draco replied, reaching for his drink.
Over the course of the first hour, the things that Hermione could catalogue in the 'boring' category were put away. Professions first: Fred and George owned a joke shop. Charlie was working with an animal preserve, and opted to not discuss it or he would never stop. Harry was a policeman, and Ron admitted he'd done the same before deciding it wasn't for him. Ginny worked with coaching sports for a secondary school.
And Draco said from behind his glass that he was a trauma surgeon.
"Yeah, you know me and Ron really bloody well." Fred said with a laugh.
At some point, each of them were engrossed by the gross medical stories Draco could tell.
But Hermione paid more attention to the way he rubbed her thigh beneath the table.
Contrary to what Hermione might have hoped for, Draco didn't lead her into the bedroom after that night out. Only after she had gotten blissfully pissed, so much that he gave her a piggyback ride to his car, and up the stairs to his flat, had Draco undressed her.
She'd tried to guide his hand between her legs, drunkenly professing to 'take her', which was mortifying the next morning.
He'd dressed her in pajamas, and left water with aspirin on the bedside table for her.
Three days later, there was another break-in at her complex, and she started looking for a new flat. She couldn't stay with Draco forever, afterall, as nice as it was. She was an adult, and they weren't living together. There was a promising one that she'd schedule a tour with, but only after asking what the crime was like in the area.
In the interest of being completely transparent, Hermione was wary of living alone because of all the ways things could have been different. If she'd been home, and it had been her flat rather than Mrs Norris'.
Two days later, and still several days before she could tour the prospect flat, Draco's washer and dryer broke. Hermione was certain it was her fault, considering the knob had come off, but she managed to put it back on.
Draco explained that was the least of their problems, but the real problem lay behind the washer, where a tube was no longer connected. Water flooded the room. Connecting the tube as it had been didn't fix the problem, which didn't make any sense to her. But considering she wasn't the one lying on the floor, with their shirt soaked all the way through—and the sleeves rolled up halfway—she didn't have much to say. Though she did enjoy watching as Draco flailed to look like he knew what to do.
He didn't.
He muttered about fucking arteries and fucking collapsed lungs until Hermione slowly backed away to ring maintenance.
There was a laundry mat not far from his flat, and after joking that she'd waited as long as humanly possible to do laundry—approximately nine o'clock at night—Draco went with her.
He held up a pair of lace knickers, smirking, before tossing them in with the rest of her clothes. "There's so much." Draco groaned. He slumped in one of the plastic chairs, folding his hands in his lap. "We're going to be here for a while."
So said four loads of laundry that needed to dry cycles.
"I brought snacks." Hermione said, taking the seat next to him. She opened her purse and tilted it toward him. "And I nicked two bottles of water from your fridge."
Grinning, he took one of the granola bars. "So," he swallowed the first bite. "How was your day?"
Work had been boring, that much was true, except for the end of the day, she explained. "But," Hermione popped a fruit gummy into her mouth. "I got a really interesting email at the end of the day as I was walking to the car park."
"Oh? All I got was the most irritating, and vapid intern I've ever met."
She snorted. "Does she shadow you, or…?"
He shook his head. "She was lost. Lost. She's meandering around in an empty OR while making a cell phone call to her friend who is also apparently lost?" Draco muttered. "I still have no idea where she was meant to be. I dropped her off at the front desk where they give directions and left her."
Hermione made a mock sound of sympathy. "Oh, don't be too hard on her. I'm sure she's nervous."
He gave her a look of disbelief.
"I admit that I would still be worried." Hermione giggled, offering him a gum in her open palm. "Anything else interesting?"
"Nothing. Tell me more about the email?"
Behind them, headlights of passing cars flashing against the window, momentarily blinding Hermione when she looked for a second too long. Fishing her mobile from her pocket, she said quietly, "Equilibrium is a magazine that caters toward writers, and was made by authors, some best selling."
He stared at her in silence, the sort that said more than words, while his hand was halfway to his mouth. Draco's hand curled into a fist. "I've heard of it. Go on?"
"I submitted a story last month." She breathed, and his face split in two with a wide smile that she'd never seen before. "They were getting back to me."
The gummy fell to the floor. "And?" Draco asked eagerly. "Did they accept it?"
Her chest threatened to burst. "Accepted with eagerness, I'd say."
He snatched her out of her chair before she could blink, springing to his feet and pulling her with him. Draco swung her around, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "That's amazing. I'm so proud of you."
Wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her jumper, she nodded. "I'm proud of me too."
They sat together, her legs swung over his lap while he read the story she'd submitted on the small screen of his phone that he swore he would upgrade. He just wasn't fond of change, Draco told her with a laugh.
After using one of the laundry carts to change from the washer to the dryer, she'd absently commented that she'd always wanted to ride in one.
There was little doubt the owners would see them. There were various signs around the twenty-four hour laundry mat reminding them that they were on camera.
But while Draco pulled her around the room, spinning her faster than she could stomach, she felt they were much younger than they truly were.
He kissed her while her head was still spinning, sinking to his knees in front of the cart while cradling her face.
Draco
It was both fortunate and unfortunate that Hermione found a new flat. At least there wouldn't be any extra explanation to Scorpius that his girlfriend was staying with him temporarily, but they weren't living together.
It also meant that she wasn't just down the corridor. It meant that he couldn't sit her on the kitchen island, and make her thighs shake before she went to work. Those were selfish reasons, but he realised her mind likely strayed to the same thoughts.
Hermione missed their coffee date toward the end of the month, and it was unlike her. She'd texted him an hour previously, eager at the news that Scorpius would now be joining them since his mother had arrived early.
And then she hadn't shown up. Scorpius sat glumly in his car seat while looking at his toes as they drove toward Hermione's flat. "Do you think she's okay?" Scorpius asked.
"I'm sure she's fine, buddy." Truthfully, Draco was sure of that, but he couldn't help the swirling in the pit of his stomach. The new flat she'd moved into had a very low crime rate, and it was incredibly unlikely that anything had happened.
But it was so unlike her to not call if she wasn't going to make it.
Scorpius held his hand while they climbed the steps, and Draco knelt down to pull the spare key from under the mat.
"That's where everyone looks." Scorpius said.
Draco laughed. "You should tell her that. Wait right here, okay? Don't touch anything." While his son waited by the front door, rocking backward on his heels, Draco made his way through her flat.
Her bedroom door was cracked, and Draco almost snorted.
Hermione laid across her bed, her arm flung out, and her hair was a mess. On the table beside her was a box of cold medicine, and a half empty glass of water. "Hermione," he nudged her.
She stirred. "Hello?" As she cracked one eye open barely, both of them immediately flew open. "Oh, my God. I fell asleep." She covered her mouth with both hands.
"You did." He chuckled. "How long have you been sick?"
"I don't know. I didn't feel well yesterday, but I just felt like death this morning. I thought if I took some medicine, I would be fine to meet you, but I was clearly wrong." She wrapped herself in her blanket.
"Are you cold?"
"Freezing," she muttered.
He grimaced. "Well, it's boiling in here, sweetheart. You need to see a doctor."
She shook her head. "I turned up the thermostat, but I think it's busted."
"No, it's definitely not." He tugged at his collar. "Come on, I'll take you to the doctor."
Hermione rolled away from him, telling him no. "I haven't been to a doctor in years." She shrieked, but was unable to swat him away since she'd wrapped herself up. "Draco, put me down!"
"Absolutely not. I'm taking you to the hospital and that's that." As he entered her living room, he found Scorpius turning a snow globe from the shelf upside down. "I thought I told you not to touch anything."
Scorpius' eyes widened. "What's wrong with 'Mione?"
"She's sick and she doesn't want to go to the doctor." He stepped out of the door as his son opened it. "So, we're going to take her while she can't get away.
"Draco Malfoy, I swear to God—"
Scorpius reached up to rub Hermione's arm through the blanket. "You're pasty."
She snorted. "Thanks."
"Was that rude?" Scorpius looked at Draco. "I'm sorry. Are you afraid of the doctor?"
"No, but this will pass in a few days." Hermione insisted, more to Draco than Scorpius. "Considering I have no choice in the matter, I'll go, but can you please unwrap me?"
"Like a present." Draco winked.
Hermione laid her cheek against the cool glass for the duration of the ride to the hospital, wincing in pain when she thought he wasn't looking. While Scorpius waited patiently in the staff room, entertained by Katie, Draco ran the tests himself.
"Are you supposed to be doing this?" Hermione asked. "You're a surgeon, and I don't need a surgeon."
He arched a pale brow. "You wound me." Snapping his glove against his wrist, he said, "Technically, no. But this is an ER, and Dr Boot isn't going to force me out. I'm capable of running the tests so we'll know what you've come down with." Placing the stethoscope to her chest, he murmured, "Breathe in."
She did.
"Slightly irregular heartbeat."
Hermione's face flushed, and she hissed, "Shut up! It is not."
She was right. It hadn't been, but as he moved instructed her to breathe in once more, it was much faster.
"Thank you." She whispered when they left.
Draco and Scorpius brought her soup, and stopped in at least three times a day. She wasn't contagious by the time Scorpius forced his way onto her bed to read a book to her until she fell asleep, but it was still a worry that crossed her mind.
Hermione laid her head in the crook of Draco's neck while his arm was wrapped around her."Goodnight, Hermione." Draco's lips were cool against her forehead.
"Once upon a time, there lived a dragon with blue scales named Draco…" Scorpius began, embellishing the story while his small voice lulled her to sleep.
I will do my best to have the September update out on time, but life is still pretty terrible so it may be late again. But it will come. (As will Hermione. Okay, sorry I'm done.) I'd love to read what you thought of this chapter.