Draco stepped into the bustling pub in Diagon Alley much later than he would have liked. He hadn't thought about it the first time they met at the Leaky Cauldron, but it probably seemed rather odd, them being together. That time, he had been too focused on the favor he had to ask of her— and on her, if he were to be completely honest— to notice any side glances, or whispers that may have occurred.

Afterall, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger weren't exactly your average citizens of the Wizarding World, and Draco certainly didn't get out much.

Perhaps he should have expected it.

He scanned the room and noticed several weary glances before he saw Hermione waving him over. He tried to zone out the surprised faces but it was difficult.

"You know who that is, don't you?" One voice said, and Draco wondered if they were even trying to keep him from hearing.

There was more being said, but he ignored it.

She stood, and they did their awkward dance again where they weren't sure how to greet each other again.

"Hi," she said, finally, laughing at herself and settling on kissing him on the cheek.

His face warmed and he stood stunned for a moment, before recovering with, "H-Have you ordered anything yet?"

"No, I was waiting for you."


They started with a few pleasantries, talking about their day, Hermione obviously very interested in any new updates regarding Keely.

When their orders, fish and chips with a butterbeer each, arrived, they reached a lull in their conversation.

Hermione picked up a chip and asked him comically, "What's your favorite color?"

He sucked on his teeth before answering, "Green."

She snorted and popped the chip in her mouth.

"And yours?" He asked.

"Violet," she said, and a blush formed across her cheeks.

"Mm," Draco said, chewing his fish.

She pulled her eyes from her basket of food and gazed at him for several moments, causing him to eventually ask, "What?" when a playful smile began forming on her lips.

"I…. was just wondering…" she started and he saw a familiar glint in her eyes as she shifted in her chair.

"Yes?" He said, grabbing his mug and lifting it to his mouth.

"Was I your… first?"

He choked on his drink and looked at her incredulously.

She laughed, "Not….." Hermione leaned in, biting her lip to control her glee, "I mean first… Muggle-born… that you've been with?"

The look on her face was smug, yet curious.

That's one way to ease the tension, Granger . He thought and he squinted his eyes at her darkly.

He placed his mug down in a deliberate motion, not breaking eye contact and leaned back in his chair. He said nothing, sucking on his teeth again to stifle his own smirk.

She leaned forward even more and he didn't hide the glance he made to her cleavage, her movement just exposing the peaks of her chest.

He released the hold his tongue had on his teeth with a terse " thup ."

"I knew it." She said falling back into her own chair, but he cocked his head towards her before saying, "As much as I enjoy your look of conquest, I must not tell lies, Granger."

Her eye brows raised in shock as he said "And I'm sorry to one up you like this, I know how you enjoy being an insufferable know-it-all," he leaned forward this time as he said the last part, "But as it so happens, I have, in fact, shagged a Muggle ."

Her mouth dropped and he raised his glass again, this time in salute before cheekily drinking from it… watching her from over the rim.

She shook her head, and her gaping mouth turned back into a smile.

"Tell me everything," she said, hungrily.


About two and a half years ago, Draco found himself at the apparition point outside muggle London. He'd known it was there because that was where he and his mother had stood, however many years ago when the Death Eaters collapsed the muggle bridge during the war. He could see the new one now—rebuilt— a testament of muggle resilience, and a taunt to those who thought them weak.

The evening sun was setting in the distance, and the air outside was perfect for walking. So that's what he did; he just started walking. Draco hadn't meant to go anywhere in particular, he had just needed to do something to occupy his mind and body since his mind healer had been discouraging him from relying on his usual routine of moping and drinking. And considering he still didn't exactly feel comfortable in Wizarding London at the moment, Muggle London it was.

He walked past restaurants with laughing and dining muggles, then past a ballet studio of young muggles in tutus. He wondered if a class was going the day the bridge fell, and how the children inside must have screamed. He passed by a family pushing a new baby in a stroller, and they smiled at him. He then later stopped by a fountain and observed the coins at the bottom for a considerable amount of time.

The wizard had never seen Muggle money before.

Draco walked and walked, and he was eventually calmed by the clicking of his heels, the sounds of the streets, and people he passed.

He didn't know why he walked in that particular pub when he did, just that he felt a drawing to it. After all, some types of magic couldn't always be explained, of course.

Draco went straight for the bar, a little overwhelmed by the bright lights and strange people. He shook his head when the bartender asked for his order.

Perhaps he should have nicked some coins from that fountain, he thought, but no matter.

He sat there for some time, watching the patrons, occasionally being distracted by the glowing portrait on the wall across from him.

It burned his eyes. In fact, there were several glowing things in this place that burned his eyes.

Regardless, it was a nice enough establishment, most of the Muggles were dressed in what Draco assumed to be professional clothing, and Draco thought this might be a place for Muggles to go after the work day.

"You waiting on someone?" The bartender asked again.

"Y-yes." He said, hoping that would appease the man to let him sit there a little longer.

He continued to watch them, their movements, their conversations, he tried to figure out what could possibly be so different about them.

Nothing , he settled. Fuck all, nothing.

There were tall ones, plump ones, mean ones, tipsy ones, and pretty ones. Just like in any magical pub he'd been inside.

Pretty one s, He thought.

One pretty one that Draco kept finding himself looking at, even catching her eye a few times.

She was petite, with short hair that looked the color of caramel, and she sat at a table with several others, laughing, taking shots, and telling stories with wild gestures. After about the 10th time of catching each other's eye, neither looked away. Her face contorted in curiosity and before he knew it, she had risen from her seat.

His heart thumped in his chest and he looked away, finding the patterns of the tiled floor particularly interesting.

Surely she wasn't coming over here, he'd thought. Maybe he'd frightened her and she was telling on him… getting some grunt employee of the place to throw his loitering arse out.

That would be something, wouldn't it?

The Malfoy heir thrown out of a Muggle pub.

Perhaps the Daily Prophet would even get word.

"Hi," a voice to his right said.

He looked up and it was her.

Shit . He thought.

"Hello," he said, digging deep into the wells of himself for some of his old confidence.

She was on the shorter side, even in the black heels she wore. Additionally, the tight black fitted dress she wore hugged her body, and despite her petite frame she had curves. Draco couldn't help but notice her full chest, and he also could not help the parting of his lips as she spoke again.

"Do I know you? You… so look familiar," she asked, "Did you go to Oxford?"

He didn't know what that was, but he thought it best to err on caution.

He also wondered if he really did look familiar to her or if she was making an excuse to talk to him. The thought emboldened him a little, and when he thought about the instance later on, he wondered if the universe hadn't put them both under some sort of spell.

That was the only explanation for the drawing he felt towards her. She must have felt it too, after what happened next.

"No, ah— I shouldn't think so, I'm… just visiting."

"Business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure." He said, closing his eyes slightly then correcting, "I mean, I'm here to… sightsee."

"Ah," she said, and she put a manicured nail to pull at her bottom lip and look over his shoulder.

She mouthed the word 'two,' and he watched as her hand moved from her mouth to put up two fingers. He looked over his shoulder a moment later to see the bartender sliding two shots of coppery liquid on the counter beside him.

She crossed to the glasses, and her hip brushed against his leg.

Draco swiveled his chair to face her, and she rested one of her elbows on the bar and handed him a glass. She didn't hide the lean she made when looking at his left hand, no doubt checking for a ring.

He took the shot from her and, satisfied, Draco presumed, she said, "My brother owns this bar. My coworkers and I come in every now and then after a long day because…" she clinked her glass to his slowly, "he lets me drink for free."

They maintain eye contact as they both downed the shot, only breaking it when Draco winced as it went down.

Muggle liquor was horrid.

She laughed, "Not high brow enough for you?" She gave him a once over. "You look like a fancy executive. Or someone with a lot of daddy's money."

He wrinkled his nose and said, "You caught me."

Throughout the next couple of hours, Draco found out she worked as a lawyer, and she particularly liked when he traced his finger around his mouth, and acted impressed over a tidbit of information she shared.

It wasn't an act, she was an interesting person, even if he didn't half understand some of the things she was saying. He seemed to be doing ok at fooling her though, because after several more shots she eventually put her hand on his leg and let him talk very close to her ear even though the music wasn't even that loud.

"Do you want to see the barrels in the back? Where they cure the whiskey?" She asked him eventually, the flush in her face traveled all the way down to her chest.

He feigned consideration then nodded, lifting his eyes up to her in a lazy motion.

In reality, going anywhere with her right now was the most obvious thing in the world he could think of.

She jumped off the stool like a little fairy, and he followed her to the back.


There was no one else around as they weaved through the rows of barrels and she dithered on about aging processes, and normally Draco might be interested in what she was saying, but he was slightly drunk and every movement she made entranced him.

"This is his oldest batch" she said, leading him down the very last row, tucked away in a corner. She trailed a hand against the wood and knocked on it twice before turning around, finding him probably a little too close.

She looked up at him biting her lip, her blue eyes shining. He stood there for several beats, towering over her before he realized he should probably say something

"Fascinating," Draco finally drawled.

He watched her look up at him through her eyelashes and tongue her cheek before she pressed herself against the adjacent wall. He knew what she was about to do before she did it, but it didn't stop him from gasping as she grabbed his tie and pulled him to her mouth. The dreadful Muggle whiskey tasted much better coming from her tongue as it slid against his, and he wouldn't mind having a bottle of it just to remind him of this.

He kissed her back, sloppily, albeit, the difference in their height making it difficult, so he eventually resorted to hoisting her up and onto the barrel of 'the oldest batch.'

Her legs wrapped around him and she pressed herself into him. He greedily put a hand up her shirt with one hand and slid his hand up her thigh.

When his hand made it under her bra to touch her bare breast her breath hitched and she said, "I never do this."

He didn't care if she did or not. She was pretty, and nice, and she had no idea who he was or what he had done, and she smelled really damn good.

His mouth fell from hers to her neck.

"Neither do I," he said to the column of her throat, a reassurance, and he stopped himself from saying seriously, you have no idea.

He pressed himself more in between her open legs until he felt her begin to grind against him. Draco then pulled his mouth off her to look at her again, her face flush and eyes practically black with want. Maintaining eye contact, and as smugly as he could in his current state, he maneuvered his hands to fumble with his belt and pants.

She smiled at him, knotting her fingers in his hair and pulling his mouth on hers again, arching slightly in anticipation.

"Don't worry," she said, "I take the pill."

Draco didn't know what that meant exactly, but he could read between the lines.

He made quick work of freeing himself from his pants, pushing aside her knickers, and pushing himself inside just a bit before pulling out and sliding in deeper.

She moaned, a delicious hum that rang in his ears probably longer than normal if he wasn't quite so sozzled.

He gave her a second to adjust to him, as he gripped her hips and bit his lip, watching. He pushed and pulled himself out slowly again until the undulation of her hips told him she couldn't take more.

For the first time in a really long time he only thought about what was right in front of him: full breasts, bated breaths, little moans, and it was the best he'd felt in a while.

He dropped his arms to either side of her, gripping the barrel until his knuckles turned white. He rested his head on her shoulder so he could angle it to allow him to watch himself glide in and out of her a few more times.

The rest was hard and fast, and he stifled his groans in her neck as she ground against him harder. She threw her head back, and he regretted not having the foresight to take her shirt off because that would have been a lovely sight to see.

A whining noise escaped her throat, and Draco let out a choked laugh when he felt her come around him, not because his own release came seconds later, but because he hoped his fucking father was rolling in his goddamned grave.


Draco had been rather fond of that memory, calling upon it late at night sometimes when he was alone, which, as it were, was very often until his thoughts had recently been hijacked by another. Even better than that, Draco thought, was Hermione's reaction to his tale.

Her gaze was somewhere between shock and awe.

"You liked her," she said, finally.

"I did."

"Did you ever see her again?" She asked.

"No. I wanted to, but I thought it best to leave it. A bit to explain to that lot, isn't it."

She gave him an amused scoff, shaking her head in surprise.

He leaned forward again, beckoning her to do the same with his fingers and said, "Would you believe me if I told you I sometimes imagine going back? Starting over with her, or some other Muggle girl and… leaving it all behind."

"Yes," She breathed out and he knew she'd thought the same.

He pushed back into his chair with a sigh, "But alas, here we are."

"Here we are," she said, propping her hand up on the table, and resting her head in it.

She looked off to nowhere in particular, a dreamy look settled into her eyes.

"Like that story, did you Granger?" Draco said.

The corner of her mouth quirked up in response.

"Well, don't be too jealous, there is plenty more of me to go around yet."

Her eyes flitted up to him.

"And you?" He asked, "Have you ever been with one?"

She shook her head, eyes twinkling.

He clicked his tongue at her, "Well, who's the blood purist now, Granger?"


She excused herself to the loo and he felt like he'd been pulled from a black hole, in the best way. Being around her was consuming, the way she incited his desire, exasperation, and dare he think it, his hopes .

It was a tempest of emotions to be sure.

He fumbled with his leftover chips, now cold from sitting out.

I wonder if Granger shags on the first date? He thought with a smirk, and an image of her in his lap as his back rested on the winged headboard flew into his mind. He could almost feel her perfect breasts pressing into his face.

"Oi, Malfoy!" A voice said as he felt a hand smack him on the back, shaking Draco from his thoughts.

He recognized the wizard as a fellow Slytherin from Hogwarts, a few years older than him, as well as a former beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Alright there… Bole?" Draco said, recalling his name just in time. The man leaned on the table close to Draco's face, and he could smell the strong scent of mead on the wizard's breath.

"Haven't seen you since school," the man said, slapping a hand on the table. He sniggered in a way that confused Draco, as if they had some sort of knowledge between them that Draco could not recall. But there was no telling really. Draco had had a lot of people follow him around and bear witness to his antics over his years at Hogwarts.

Draco took a bit of comfort in the thought that Bole would have been gone when he was… commissioned as a Death Eater, though Draco doubted this information was not common knowledge to most Hogwarts Alumni, at least in part.

As a result, he couldn't think of why Bole was acting so friendly towards him now, having certainly not heard or seen anything of the man since about 4th year.

Perhaps he wanted money.

Bole went to speak again, but something behind Draco's shoulder caught his attention and caused him to narrow them. Bole's eyes then widened and Draco realized why, as Hermione made her way back around the table.

She smiled politely as she approached, and Bole watched her, following Hermione with his head until she sat back down.

"Uh, Bole, do you remember Miss Granger? She was in my year, but in Gryffindor house… Hermione— Bole here was a few years ahead of us. We played together on the Slytherin Quidditch team for a bit," Draco said, flicking his eyes to Hermione, then back to Bole with suspicion.

Bole's jaw had slacked, and then he suddenly turned his head back to Draco again, away from Hermione. Draco thought their noses might touch from the movement, so he leaned his head back a little, if not only to spare himself from the man's proximity.

Draco realized this was a mistake too late, as the man took offense to him moving away.

"Disgust you, do I Malfoy?" Bole said, giving Draco an exaggerated look of revulsion as he pushed himself from the table.

Bole looked to Hermione again and let out a cruel laugh before saying to Draco, "I guess if you can't beat them, join them, yeah?"

"Please leave," Hermione stated sharply.

Before, Draco had been shocked at Bole's audacity, but a prickle of fear creeped up on him at Hermione's burning anger.

Bole scoffed and stumbled away from them mumbling under his breath, and, with difficulty, out of the pub.

Draco hadn't realized he had been gripping the side of the table until he felt her hand on his. He looked up at her and felt his body soften as she rolled her eyes as if the incident were no matter.

"That shit still happen to you?" Draco said through gritted teeth.

She rolled her lips through her teeth before answering, "Not as much as in school. Though some continue to be… un-evolved…"

Fuck , he thought.

She continued, "You know how you mentioned sometimes… wanting to leave it all?"

"Yeah," Draco said, eyeing the door Bole had exited from. He could feel the muscle in his jaw jumping.

"You were born into this," she said, and he looked back at her. "Magic is your culture, your birthright, something you were entitled to. For me, it has always been a gift."

She rubbed her fingers against his knuckles as if to calm him and continued, "A gift I did nothing to deserve, it just was. It's a part of me, even if I tried to pretend it wasn't."

"I know that," Draco said, turning the hand she was stroking to take her fingers into his palm. He did know it. He could feel magic rippling from her constantly, it was like a magnet that drew him in.

"I was born magical, yet my parents never knew… why I was so different until a letter showed up inviting me to a magical school. Sure, McGonagall came and spoke to my family about it, instructed them how to get me where I needed to go, but don't you think Hogwarts, or the Ministry or someone could have thought of a way to make that transition easier? Or maybe that just shows how.. little people like me are valued or… understood."

Hermione lifted her hand from his and carded it through her hair. He stared at his empty hand as if it were missing something vital, and she continued, "When I found out I was a witch I was so pleased. I finally felt like I could belong somewhere, not be abnormal. Then I came and that wasn't the case at all. I was considered… low class, a Muggle-born . Not special, in fact, some people thought I was undeserving of my gifts," her eyes met his and he felt like the air had been knocked out of him.

Draco only listened. He had said plenty in the past to contribute to how she was feeling now. It was her turn to speak.

"And none of that should matter. Even if I was lousy at magic, it would not change the fact that I belong here in this world, just as much as anyone. I don't belong in the Muggle world, and I only half way belong in this one…" she sighed as if to emphasize what she said next. "It's exhausting ."

Draco nodded, encouraging her to continue, so she did. "I have always had to work twice as hard to be seen as… worthy . There will always be this separation between me and my family now because of what I am… not to mention the things I had to do during the war to keep them safe…." She shook her head a few times and looked away from him, lowering the hand that had been fumbling with her hair back to the table.

Dracop took it, and she spoke some more, "I could probably live a… comfortable life away from the Wizarding World, but that would be selfish, wouldn't it?"

She looked at him again, "How could I not use this gift to help others?" Hermione finished quietly.

Draco closed his fingers around hers, he squeezed her hand, letting her know he understood what she was saying. In the few short months he has been in her presence his life had changed spectacularly, further, Hermione Granger was a force he didn't want to… couldn't be away from.

"Things have changed on an individual level since the war, but the systems that created these problems remain… much the same," she said. "I had to be good at magic. I had to be the best to try and prove that I was worthy of being a part of this world, but I shouldn't have had to. I deserve to be a part of this world simply because I am. Not because I come from centuries of magic, and not because I am the brightest witch of our age, but because magic runs through my veins and I must be. I know I can't change entire systems alone… Most people in our world just want things to stay the same. I just don't want there to be another war… it's… it's why I do what I do at the Ministry…" she trailed off.

"You mean the elves," Draco said, "You relate to them."

She looked back at him, and his focus narrowed in on her again as he lost himself in her depths, seeing, hearing, feeling nothing but what she would give him.

"Do you ever think about that? What if you were born a Muggle, or a House-Elf, or…" Hermione continued, there was no stopping her now, and Draco only hoped she saw his silence as reverence and not thoughtlessness.

"…Ceely and Risly want to be House-Elves… and maybe that is what's best for them, maybe that is their dream, but what other options have they ever been given?"

Draco had spent much of his life thinking he had but few options. In fact, most of his life had been planned out for him and schemed without his participation in a dark room with evil intentions. Years later he continued to spend so much of his life doing what he felt he had to do to protect himself and his family. But as he sat here today, he couldn't ignore the way his privilege— money, power, influence, and family name— had benefited him.

This was what Rivington was always trying to tell him. He had options. He may have lived a life that afforded him little in the past, but today, in the here and now, he had them. And like Hermione cannot help herself but to share her gift of magic, how could he not use his own assets to do the same? Not just for himself, but others.

Hermione continued, "Over the centuries, House-Elves haven't had choices to do anything else … but Keely does. He's…. a blank slate, so to speak. I can not… set all the elves free… I can't unbind them from wizards, or change everyone's mind sets or opinions… but I at least want elves to have the choice… the opportunity, to follow other desires if they have them."

"What would you need? To accomplish those things?" Draco asked, but he already knew how these things worked.

She'd need money, power, and influence. She'd need him .

"I-ah," she was caught off guard, and her look of surprise set a flame inside him. Draco quite liked being Hermione's remedy, and he didn't want to stop now.

"Like I've said before," she said, "Work like this involves a bit of… animosity. It's expected for people to fight back," she looked at him wearily, he was surprising her again, and he liked it.

"I can take it," Draco said, "People don't like me anyway, regardless of what 'side I'm on,' Draco said, referring to their recent interruption.

"These are just thoughts I have had, it'd take time to actually come up with concrete initiatives to lobby… and it's all rather… ambitious… a shot in the dark to think that some of these ideas could even get enough traction…" Hermione said.

"I like what happens when I take shots in the dark with you," Draco said and the weight of his words fell on them.

He eased the moment with a characteristic cocky grin, "besides, like I told you before, I'm… technically a philanthropist."

Hermione gave him an amused scoff, "You also said you steered clear of politics these days. Besides, you're a trust fund baby with staff that pushes your money around for you. This would be involved, it would require… a lot of publicity. Not just investing…"

Draco leaned forward again. He had to convince her he was serious, had to show her he wanted, needed to be more than what was determined for him long ago.

"Sometimes," he said, "I'd rather just… disappear… so I'm not responsible for any more pain. But every second I am with you, it feels like I can actually… do anything… Help you, help my mother, help my elves. I want… I need my life to be more. I need something to apply myself to, or I will self-destruct and go mad. I trust you, Hermione. And, don't be too shocked by this, but I agree with you."

She stared at him for a couple moments before stating, "You could be the face of… magical human rights?" She gave him a disbelieving look.

It sounded silly when she said it, but he didn't care.

"Something wrong with my face Granger?" He smirked at her, not like a Black, not like a Malfoy, but like Draco, who was sitting in front of a woman he very much wanted to give everything to.

"I rather thought you liked it?" He finished.

She rolled her eyes at him, but they both knew.

They could accomplish great things together.