"Congratulations!"
Draco stared at the glistening diamond resting on her ring finger. It was a marvellous stone he had to admit, the soon to be groom had good taste. Flutes of champagne made their way around the room as they lifted them up for a toast. Draco caught a glimpse of curls of brown through the bubbles and the glass, and he smiled. They drank the pale gold liquid and socialized. People were laughing, the air in the room felt light.
"Yes, Congratulations on your engagement to this sod," Draco joked.
Ginny Weasley laughed and looked to her betrothed. They shared a look and everyone in the room could see they were very much in love. Draco knew cause he's seen that look before. He's seen it on a reflection in a glaze of honey, and he swore, that look was mirrored back.
Hermione stepped away from Draco and embraced the redhead. It wasn't long before they whisked themselves a way to admire the rock on Ginny's finger. A group of ladies gathered in the corner, all admiring the sparkling gem.
Potter remained, sipping his champagne from its flute. "Might be the two of you soon."
Draco looked at him, pondering the not so far off reality. He hoped, at least. "I'd be on bended knee the moment she's ready."
He really wasn't sure why he told him that, they weren't buddies or anything. They've been a couple steps above cordial. Their partners are best friends after all and they've spent quite some time together. At any case, it was the truth.
Harry's green eyes widened, "I was joking! It's only been a few months, after all," he paused, "but you're serious, you've really thought about it."
Draco smirked, "I'd be a fool to let her slip from me. Tell me she's not the most extraordinary woman you've ever met, Potter."
"Well," Potter chuckled, "I'm inclined to say my fiancé is just as extraordinary."
"Then you're a fool in love."
He gave a small laugh, and let his eyes meet Draco's again, "so are you, Malfoy."
Draco thought for a second and whispered, "I guess I am."
He didn't know if Potter heard that last bit. He hoped he didn't. He wanted her to know before anyone else. He'd been dying to tell her, he's felt the feeling bubble up one day. He's kept his mouth shut, scared of it not being reciprocated but a part of him needed to tell her. And he needed for her to say it back.
Hermione gushed over Ginny's ring. She never was a materialistic girl but a small part of her loved the idea of an engagement ring. A physical embodiment of the red string of fate tying your life to your partner.
Harry had given Ginny a 2 carat brilliant cut diamond on a plain yellow gold band. It sparkled as she moved and looked amazing on Ginny's finger. The gold band was a good choice on Harry's part, her skin flew with it and she's always only worn gold jewelry. How Gryffindor, she thought, but it suited her well.
They had started to talk about the wedding and she couldn't help but picture what hers would be like one day. She wanted it outdoors, somewhere by the water in spring, summer or fall. It was a pretty wide range but she just wanted to be able to see the beauty of the water before it iced over. She wanted light coloured roses, and an intimate gathering, just close friends and family. And the groom, well, she would never let herself admit it but in her head it was Draco. His pale blonde hair warmed by the sunlight, his silver eyes looking opalescent as he looked at her in her wedding dress. She sighed at the dream and returned her full attention to Ginny.
Hermione was to be the maid of honour, Pansy, Fleur, and Luna are bridesmaids. They had begun to talk about dresses and debated what the colour scheme should be. They finally decided on a champagne colour. Everyone agreed on it and set to planning on other details of the wedding. Ginny wanted a summer wedding, and they had decided to set the date next year, only six months away. She said it was ok, she didn't want an overly grand wedding and just wanted to be married to the love of her life.
They had proceeded into the dinner portion of the evening. Draco sat in between Hermione and Pansy. All the Weasleys were present, even Ron, who kept a wide berth between him and Hermione . He mostly kept to himself and sulked in some corner. Everyone else was cordial to Draco, although Molly still expressed her disappointment.
The night ended with no issues for the most part, save for when Ron whispered "snake" as she and Draco passed by. They had ignored him and pretended to have heard nothing. There wasn't anything he could say that would make Hermione retaliate. Not today, at least. This was about Harry and Ginny, their happy moment. She was disappointed in Ron for not having the self control to keep his insults to himself. Overall, it didn't really matter. The night definitely went better than what Hermione expected, and she was grateful.
When the night had ended, Draco took her to his apartment and pulled out pyjamas from the Granger Drawer. She was at his place so often that it didn't take long for Draco to assign her a drawer for her things. He even went out to buy her some essentials. In typical Malfoy fashion, they were excessive. He got silk pyjamas for the summer when it would be hot, soft pyjamas with cashmere woven into the fabric for winter, and high end toiletries that Hermione didn't even buy for herself. He also got her some books she hadn't yet read to keep on the shelf in his bedroom, for when she got bored. Not that it happened often, Draco was very good at keeping her occupied. Hermione went into his bathroom and proceeded to remove the make up she wore and changed into something more comfortable. She then hopped in to the bed next to Draco who was reading from a book. His arm lounged atop of a pillow, and Hermione found her place next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder as his arm snaked around her with his hand resting on her stomach.
"What are we reading tonight?" asked Hermione as she peered into the pages.
"The myth of Daedalus and Icarus, the boy who flew too close to the sun," replied Draco.
"I know that one, he had warned him not to but he did anyway."
"Hm," he hummed, pensive.
When he had finished, he shut the book and looked to Hermione, "my parents are inviting us to France in the spring."
She was mildly shocked but knew the day would come where they would have spend time with his parents. "That's nice of them, did you accept?"
"I want to. My mom's health hasn't been the same and I've missed her. I won't take you if you feel uncomfortable with it."
She thought for a moment. Narcissa had been nothing but gracious to her, they had actually gotten into the habit of sending letters once a month, mostly talking about Draco. She had found out about his childhood that way. Overall, she seemed like a wonderful lady, minus the Death Eater and pure blood propaganda she had been associated with. But then again, Draco fell under those same associations, and here she was wrapped around his arm, lounging on his soft feather bed. "No, I'd like to come. France is beautiful and I've always wanted to see it."
He smiled, "you'll love it. The beaches are wonderful and the desserts are incomparable."
"That sounds like it would be more for your benefit," she chuckled.
"Yes but you'll be there to share it with me."
"Be real, Draco. Your dragon claws come out when I try to eat your dessert," she laughed.
"That's why I get you your own!" he pouted.
"I like to try yours, it tastes better."
"They're the exact same!" he defended.
"Still."
He laughed and they talked until they felt sleep creep into the bed and overtake their consciousness. They would wake in the middle of the night and snuggle into each other. Most times the snuggles turned into heated pants and moans and when they'd wake in the morning, they'd do it all over again. They just couldn't get enough of each other. And tonight, their lovemaking did its job all too well. When Draco thought Hermione had gone to sleep again, he brushed his fingers on her cheekbone and her hair. He whispered the three words Hermione did not know she'd been waiting to hear.
"I love you."
Every waking moment Draco spent with her, he wanted to scream it. They could be doing nothing and he would feel it creep from his chest, up his throat, and to the tip of its tongue, desperately trying to wrench his jaw open. It longed for escape.
I love you.
She brought her lips to her coffee.
I love you.
She danced to her muggle music, scream singing the words to the song.
I love you.
Her hair flying in the winter wind, a rumpled nest on her head.
I love you.
Her fingers flipping through the parchment, ink staining her hands.
I love you.
Her gentle touch setting ablaze to his being. Her lips dancing with his own.
I love you.
And now, she stood before him, in a long champagne bridesmaid dress she tried on in his bedroom. A conjured bouquet of flowers in her hands. She was saying something to him, but he couldn't hear her. He's lost all senses but his sigh. He could only see her wild hair, and her honey eyes sparkling. Just for a second they weren't in his bedroom anymore. They were on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the gentle wind blowing those curls, the scent of apples and honey wafting in the air. There were English roses everywhere, the sunlight getting caught on the rings on their finger. Light filled Draco's eyes, blinding him. Then it escaped.
"I love you."
Her honey eyes widened and she froze. So did he. He didn't regret it, but felt paralyzed. It was fear. What would he do if she didn't say it back, if she never did.
"Draco I-,"
More fear. His heart was pounding, his brain fuzzy, it was begging him to relieve the anxiety. He wanted to know, but the fear was stronger.
"Stop, you don't have to say it back, not if you don't mean it."
Her hands found his, then honey dipped into silver. His anxiety and fear melted away with her touch. He had found the answer in her eyes.
"Draco Malfoy, I love you too."
He seized her into his arms, and their lips battled in passion. His heart fluttered and beat against his chest. He couldn't hear anything else but her words replaying in his ears. He smiled against her lips. She loved him. He loved her.
"Say it again," he whispered.
"I love you."
A kiss on her neck.
"I love you."
Champagne in a spilt heap on his bedroom floor.
"I love you."
Moans filling the air.
"I love you Draco Malfoy."
A final moan, exhausted pants.
"I love you Hermione Granger."
And god did he ever. He needed her like he needed water. She was air to his lungs, the very breath he takes is her. Apples and honey. She fed his soul with embers and he embraced the sparks as his soul crackled and lit ablaze. He had never felt like a dragon until he met her. And now here he was, wielding the flames she had woken his soul with and breathed out fire. She let it consume her too. They were two stars that collided and now burst into light, shattering the universe around them. They were each other's ardent love. He was convinced no one else in the world felt this way. It was theirs.
The next few months, Hermione had gotten to know Draco more and more, surprising her with each turn.
She actually had a specific Draco Notebook, not that she needed to write it down. Hermione's memory was perfect. She knew that Draco preferred his coffee dark roast and black, but when he was tired he would have it with two shots of espresso. He liked earl grey tea with a splash of cream and a bit of honey when he wanted to feel calm. He favoured fire whiskey when he was angry and he drank old fashioned leisurely. He liked his eggs soft poached and sourdough toast with butter and hollandaise. His favourite meal was truffle gnocchi with pine nuts. He loved his desserts, and he was a sucker for a mille feuille, but he was highly critical of it. His favourite season is the fall, and he felt calm when it rained. He had a thing for the way it smelled after the skies had wept. He really did have an appreciation for muggle culture, some of his favourite books were muggle. A particular one that he doted on was Pride and Prejudice. He was a student of history, both muggle and wizard. And he was an absolute phenomenal artist. She would find sketches of her on his desk. He was now working on his next collection, he had called it Astronomy. He refused to let Hermione see it and sequestered the paintings in his studio, although Hermione had gotten a quick glimpse. It mostly consisted of hues of brown and grey. Definitely not what she expected, she thought more purple and blues for the stars, but she'd need a better look of the collection. He told her of his childhood in many nights where they were tangled in each other's arms. Equally, she told him about hers. He'd spend a great deal of his time hanging about her office, being the billionaire Malfoy heir afforded him a lot of control over his comings and goings in the office. For the most part, he'd just be working on his own paperwork, just content to have her around. The other times, he'd be up to his Draco Malfoy annoyingness. He'd fly paper airplanes into her hair, or stare at her until she'd ask what he wanted. Other times, he'd pester he with his witty sarcasm and she'd tell him to get out unless he can behave himself. This led to silencing charms and her rickety desk fighting for its life after he would have succeeded in seducing her. Draco Malfoy was not a person she expected to have around in her life all the time, but here he was, a welcome presence, granted he was still an annoying sarcastic prat, but she loved him all the same. Every little quirk he had, Hermione had found endearing. It was not possible to not be sick of someone, she had thought. Ron definitely drove her crazy and bored at times, but never Draco. The electricity in her veins felt as alive if not more so as the day she had first reencountered him. She must have been bewitched, she considered at one point, or one very strong dose of Amortentia.
She was positive Draco felt the same way. He was not a soppy sort of man and did not often announce every emotion he had felt, but at times he did. He proclaimed his revery for Hermione in whispered worship. She loved when he did that. Her favourite, however, was when he wrote it to her. Hermione had been a sucker for a good old fashioned love letter, and when Draco would owl her to remind her of her beauty, and her wildly humbling intellect, her pure heart that bled for people, animals, and house elves alike, her heart would bleed even more. She would hold up the parchment to her chest, and keep it until she would put it with all the other letters from him. She had enough to keep a big box, recently she'd had magically increased its size to host the growing stacks of parchment. A part of her soften up some more when he would compose short lines of poetry for her. Ever the artist, she thought.
