All of her family was gone. The thought pushed through his mind again and again. No cousins, no great aunts with an over abundance of yarn, no family left at all. Antonin Dolohov had destroyed her entire family tree.
Draco opened his eyes and stared up at the darkness. The guest room drapes were made of a dark velvet and no light managed to infiltrate the room. It was fitting.
He hated the boy he'd been. Putting the past behind him had never come easily. So, he'd been raised to hatred. So, he'd an overindulged popinjay. So, he'd been blind and stupid and cruel. He had been all those things and so much worse.
He'd sat at a dinner table with the man that had slaughtered his wife's family. There had been times when he admired the man's quick mind. Antonin had a debonair and rakish flare when he wanted. Draco had admired it. His father and mother had often been amused by the dark wizard's repartee. He hadn't seemed the thug. He'd admired a man that hunted a family to near extinction for amusement.
Hermione was the only survivor.
She'd survived Dolohov's curse at the Department of Mysteries, so the bastard had hunted her family to extinction.
He pushed against the mattress and sat up. The urge to vomit came in waves. It would do no good. He couldn't undo the idiocy of his youth. How could she stand it? How could she be in the same room with him?
He'd kissed his wife goodnight at the door to the master suite. She'd stroked the sides of his face gently afterwards. There was no loathing in her gaze. She was everything that was good and wholesome, and he was trash.
His door slammed open and his wife stood there. The torch light revealed her in all her angry glory. Her hair was crackling with excess magic. Her jaw was clenched tightly. Gods and Goddesses, she was breathtaking. Even dressed in flannel pajamas that were decorated with the images of yarn balls and kittens, she was the most lovely creature he had ever seen.
She stepped into the room and closed the door. The darkness closed around him once more, but he could hear her stumbling towards the bed. She moved like a drunken hippogriff. He couldn't help but smile.
"We can do this courting thing." Hermione climbed into the bed next to him. "I think it might be good for us. Using some time to get to know each other as something other than rivals makes good sense."
"I sense a rather large objection coming." He lifted his arm and wrapped it around her as she settled next to him.
"You can't torture yourself." Hermione huffed out a warm breath and set her wild hair dancing against his bare chest.
"I was merely thinking." Draco cringed inwardly at his snooty response.
"You were brooding." Hermione pushed him onto his back on to the bed and settled next to him. "I recognize the idiocy even when I don't have an up close and personal link to it, so don't bother with your lies."
"I'm not lying." Draco shifted and brought her head to his chest.
"And I'm a unicorn." Hermione snorted. "You are not the same arsehole that I went to school with."
"How can you be so sure?" He held his breath as he waited for her answer.
"You were the one that approached me at the bar." Hermione giggled and turned her body so her chin rested on his chest. It wouldn't do her any good on this darkness, but he smiled. "You married me. You're courting me and giving us time to grow together. Those are not the acts of the boy you were. Those are the acts of the man you are."
"You hardly know me." Draco stroked his hand down her soft, flannel covered side. "The boy I was died during the war. I'm not sure how to define the man."
"I know you didn't move back to the manor. I know you've funded some of the rebuilding effort." She rubbed her hand along his collarbone. "Greg Goyle works at Hogwarts with me. He put in a new terraced garden for Professor Sprout. Neville helped him with the plants."
"So, Goyle talked about me. Lovely." Draco took a deep breath and expelled it slowly.
"He wanted me to know that my efforts on behalf of his friends were appreciated." He felt her shrug. "He's really rather sweet."
"He never understood the war. He did what he was told. It never occurred to him to question anything." Draco swallowed and turned his face into her hair. "He would have been better off with your lot in the golden tower."
"You were children. We all were." Hermione curled into him. "Most days, I curse Dumbledore's name. We all lost so much because he never looked for another way. He destroyed lives easily. His shows of regret never rang true."
"You argued for us. The rest of the Order was happy to let us rot. The rest of our society was happy to see the back of us." Draco curled one hand into her hair. She was real. She was in his bed and in his arms. "It couldn't have been easy."
"You deserved a chance." Hermione muttered. "You also deserve a break. Stop dwelling in the past. Stop torturing yourself."
"I don't deserve this." He wanted to untangle their limbs and stalk around in the darkness. He wanted to pull away from her so badly, but he felt the splash of her tears on his chest and froze.
"You are my husband." She pressed her hand against his heart. "What do I deserve? Why do we have to deserve it? Why can't we just want things? Why can't we just learn about each other? Love one another?"
Draco waved his hand and the heavy velvet opened. The moonlight bathed the room in silvers and grays. Her wet cheeks and glassy eyes caught the light.
"You are so beautiful." He pulled her into his chest and rested his chin on the crown of her head.
"I'm not the pretty one in this relationship." Hermione yawned. "I think we should sleep together. I mean just sleep. You think too much when you're alone."
