Golden Girl and Malfoy Heir:
An Exclusive Look into Their Love After Loss
Unless you've been living under a rock, you will have noticed the maelstrom surrounding the recent reveal of the relationship between Hermione Granger (20), one-third of the Golden Trio and do-gooder extraordinaire, and one Draco Malfoy (19), reformed Death Eater and sole Malfoy heir. The two were seen holding hands at St. Mungo's Hospital while visiting the Malfoy patriarch Lucius Malfoy (see page 5 for update following his 'accident' in Azkaban) and the rumors began. There were those who decried Mr. Malfoy's crimes during the war, going so far as to proclaim Miss Granger a traitor for her love life. Some called into question her mental health while others insinuations were of a more insidious nature, accusing the Malfoy heir of a range of crimes, alluding to his history with the use of the Imperius Curse. However, the two, in a special interview only for their friends at The Daily Prophet, spoke candidly about their relationship, giving the inside scoop about love, loss, and legacy.
The two began their relationship only recently, so any rumors hinting toward a secret romance hidden on opposing sides of the Second Wizarding War are completely false, though Draco Malfoy, did admit to harboring hidden feelings for the Gryffindor Princess as far back as their Third Year at Hogwarts. "I was quite taken with her. Who wouldn't be, really? She was incredible, fiery and beautiful. Not to mention, forbidden fruit," he stated, speaking about her Muggle-born lineage, Miss Granger swooning openly, her eyes filled with undeniable love and affection.
Hermione curled her fist around the newspaper, crunching it right down the center. "You did not say that, and I was not swooning openly," she said,cursing herself for her own ridiculous mistake at thinking she could control the vile woman's 'creative liberties.' As she dropped the paper onto the table in front of her, she couldn't help but visualize a lovely terrarium adorning the nightstand beside her bed… with nothing but a stupid beetle inside of it.
"I don't know, your eyes were certainly filled with undeniable love and affection," Draco said, ignoring her glare as he smoothed the paper back down, continuing to read through the article that she herself had already reread a dozen times in anger. "She is right, though. If you want anyone to read what you have to say, you're going to have to get their attention, and as asinine as it is, this drivel is what will get their attention. This is the groundwork we need whether we like it or not."
Hermione stopped her irritated pacing and sat back down beside him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I refuse to believe that the Wizarding community at large is this juvenile. By the end of it, we don't even have separate names!"
Draco flipped the page, his eyes quickly scanning back and forth over the last section of the article before he barked out a laugh, unable to contain himself at the ridiculous title they'd been given. "Dramione? That's—"
"Absurd, I know. I'm going to kill her." She stood again, continuing her pacing as she mumbled under her breath all the ways that she wanted to exterminate Rita like the abominable insect that she was. "This was meant to be positive, but she makes me out to be a simpering tart just—just mooning over you."
Draco's slight smirk morphed into a look of acquiescence as he shrugged. "Well… I mean you—"
"If you finish that sentence, I'll put you in a jar right beside her."
Draco crumpled the paper up again, tossing it across the room and into the rubbish bin with a grin. "It was positive. Completely vapid, but positive nonetheless," he said, taking her hand, and tugging her back down onto the settee in one of the Manor's many tearooms.
The paper had been hand delivered to her this morning over breakfast by Alys, and the way the witch had been trying—and failing—to hide her grin told Hermione that she'd already read the article printed across the front page. Thankfully, Rita had been at least partially true to her word, and the picture of them gracing the top of the page was not the one of Draco slipping his hand into Hermione's back pocket, gripping a handful of her bum in the process, but instead was much more flattering—and less risqué. The photographer had caught them just as they stepped out of the alleyway; Draco was glancing at her, his lips turning up into an adorable smile—the real one, the one that put small creases along the outside edges of his eyes—and a few stray curls were dancing across Hermione's face as she looked up at him while they walked. Not that she would ever in a million years admit it to anyone, but in the photograph, she absolutely was staring up at him with love and affection as he dropped a sweet kiss across her temple.
Hermione's shoulders sagged as she released her clenched fists. He was right. Rita was right, though Hermione was loath to admit it. Right now, it was necessary to clear the air, to try to tell the truth about their relationship, despite the fact that it was no one's business whatsoever. If she wanted people to listen to her, she could wait around until people realized that there was still work to be done in the Wizarding world, or she could play the game a bit and get their attention first.
"How are you so okay with this?" she asked. "This isn't anyone's business at all."
Draco sighed before answering her, dropping his arm across the back of the couch behind him. "As much as I hate it, my future was always meant to be in the public eye like this. And, at least now, it is mostly pleasant. The things she's saying"—he nodded toward the paper—"aren't nearly as bad as some of the other articles I've read about myself or my family." He shrugged again. "This is just part of the Pureblood circus." He slid his fingers through hers and continued, "She did go on to talk about The Willows, so it wasn't entirely about us. It's a small piece of the puzzle, but at least people will know about it."
"By not talking about mental health, we add to the stigma around it, whether intentionally or not, and that contributes to lack of understanding both from ourselves and from our loved ones. It isn't normal, no," she'd told Rita, and thankfully, she'd published it almost verbatim, "but we need to make it the new normal in order to talk about it."
It was the groundwork she needed to get the word out on The Willows, so that much had been done, or at least begun anyway. The Wizarding community could read about the work they were doing there and how much they'd helped those who had attended so far. She left the others' names off, allowing them the opportunity to discuss their own mental health if and when the time came at their own discretion—unlike whoever L was, who'd shared her own secret without consulting her first. To be fair, it really didn't matter who it was at this point; they may have actually done her a favor, given her the push she needed to get out there and speak about the work she was doing in her own life before trying to help others with theirs.
Hermione exhaled through her mouth, blowing a stray curl out of her face in the process and relaxing into him. "You're right. I just hate playing into all of it. It's no one's business whatsoever, but I feel like I have to explain myself in order to shut people up. And then at the same time, it's infuriating that I even want to explain myself because…"
"It's no one's business," Draco said, finishing her thoughts with a soft smile. "No, it isn't. But eventually people will find something else to be obsessed with, and they'll move on."
"Gods, I can't wait for the day when the war or blood-status is no longer the topic of conversation."
"I think the tides are turning on that. My parents' generation and the ones prior to it made all of that important, and with ours, we have the perfect opportunity to change it."
Hermione sat up, grabbing the notepad and pen she'd brought with her off the table. "Ooh, you need to say that at the next interview. That's perfect!" She looked down as she started taking notes on their conversation, mouthing the words to herself as she wrote.
"I'm sure if we add in some moony-eyes and more swooning…"
Hermione couldn't hold in her growl. "Well you can be the one swooning next time. I don't want to swoon," she said with huff.
"No?" Draco asked, his eyes wide and, well, moony. "I feel like I'm failing miserably if it's been, what, two months? And you no longer swoon."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her with a smirk as he leaned over her, one arm wrapped behind her lower back and the other catching himself as he lowered her to the fluffy cushion beneath them. As he brought his lips to hers, she forgot where they were for a moment, kissing him back with, at first, a tentative slowness that began to quickly grow. Wrapping his hand behind her knee, he pulled her thigh up around his waist, and deepened the kiss, making her toes curl as his hips connected with hers.
But just as quickly, reality came crashing back around her, and she yanked her leg out of his grasp and sat up, pushing him up in the process and cutting her eyes quickly to the door leading out of the tearoom.
"Your mother is just across the hall," Hermione said in a whisper, as if the woman could hear them all of a sudden.
"Father's physical therapy will last another hour. No one is watching." His eyes turned devious as he tried to kiss her again, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.
"And Winny could be—"
"Winny is here!" The little elf popped into view directly in front of them, eliciting a squeak from Hermione and a soft groan from Draco.
Clearly, Winny had been waiting for someone to say her name, and the second Hermione had let it slip, she'd been eager to show up, her blue eyes wide and her wispy white hair pulled into two tiny tufts just above her ears.
"Does Miss need anything?"
"No, thank you, Winny. I was just—"
"Tea? Coffee? Scone?" Her eyes flickered toward Draco's hand still dangerously high on Hermione's thigh. "Contraceptive potion?" Winny smiled wide, all of her tiny little teeth showing, like she'd just won the lottery. She knew exactly what she was doing.
"Oh gods," Hermione muttered, pushing Draco's hand away and scooting as far from him as the small settee would allow.
Draco's unamused expression aimed at the elf did nothing whatsoever to stop the look of excitement painted across her features. If anything, Winny's smile seemed to grow at the obvious discomfort she was causing. Draco cleared his throat, but Winny just climbed up onto the chair opposite them, snapping her little fingers to summon a cup of tea that must have already been waiting wherever she'd been before butting in.
When it became painfully clear that Winny wasn't going anywhere, Hermione began jotting notes again, talking to Draco about their plans moving forward.
"Any thoughts on a name?" Draco asked after a few moments of Hermione nervously writing and refusing to look up and meet Winny's obnoxious smile.
"Not yet. I was actually planning to ask you the same thing." She turned around to face him, kicking off her trainers and tucking her feet beneath her. "Any ideas?"
"Well, I've considered a few. What do you think about Magical Advocacy for Indigent Mortals?"
Hermione tapped her lips with the pen in her hand as she contemplated. "I think it's certainly a possibility." She scribbled the words onto the paper beneath the heading "NAME SUGGESTIONS." "But I'm not sure if it really gets the idea across of what we're going for."
"What about Creature Rights and Persons?" Winny asked, and Draco's lips gave a slight twitch on one side. Winny sat down her teacup and began swinging her legs playfully, her tiny little feet hanging well above the floor. Winny's Machiavellian smile had faded, thankfully, but the twinkle remained in her eyes.
"I like that better actually. Good idea, Winny." Hermione hadn't at all been expecting the little elf to help, but there was something incredibly fitting about it. She actually chastised herself for having not considered asking Winny to begin with.
"How about Society for Creatures of Underserved Means?"
"What does that even mean though?" Hermione asked. When she turned to look at Draco, she tilted her head, confused by his pinched smirk. "What? Why are you—" She glanced down at her notes, rereading the names she'd written there.
Magical Advocacy for Indigent Mortals…Creature Rights and Persons…Society for Creatures of Underserved Means…The easy smile immediately fell from her face as she put it all together.
"Really? Scum? Crap? Ma—"
"It's M.A.I.M. not maim, thank you very much," Draco said with a serious expression. "Or Beast Advocates for Rights and Freedoms… or—"
"Barf, yes I get it. Ha ha." Both Winny and Draco dissolved into laughter, and Hermione said, "I expected this from him, Winny, but you're better than this, you know. He put you up to it, didn't he?" When Winny nodded her head so profusely that her ears flapped against the side of her face, Hermione crumbled the list up and tossed it at Draco's head, and she couldn't help but join in on their laughter. "You two are the worst."
"What's so funny?"
All three of them turned to see Narcissa walking in, delicate white robes rippling softly behind her. She wore a hesitant smile, as if she were worried she was interrupting a moment that she couldn't be a part of. The relationship between her and Draco still seemed slightly tense, though arguably not nearly as tense as the one between her son and her husband. The latter walked in behind her, leaning heavily on the cane that had once been used strictly for aesthetic purposes, flanked on either side by the same two Azkaban guards from the hospital.
They stood stone-faced a few feet behind Lucius's chair, their eyes straight ahead and unmoving, and for a second, conversation halted, everyone pretending that there weren't prison guards in the room. But, after being cleared to spend the next few weeks at home, Hermione assumed that it was certainly better than returning to Azkaban before his complete recovery—or returning at all for that matter—or being stuck in the single room at St. Mungo's.
The privileges of having money.
Lucius looked much better than the last time Hermione had seen him; his cheeks had filled out further, and the bruising along his face had faded until it was almost gone entirely, with just a faint tinge of green along one cheekbone. His hair, though still only reaching his shoulders, had returned to its previous luster, no longer hanging limp across his scalp.
Still no one had spoken as both Narcissa and Lucius sat, and Hermione swallowed uncomfortably. Lucius blinked, clearly regretting his decision to walk into this room entirely, and Hermione felt her heart start to race at being in the middle of yet another awkward situation. With a furtive glance around, her eyes found Draco's and found him sitting stiff in his seat, unblinking. The slight purse of his lips was enough for her to know that he was feeling just as uncomfortable as everyone else.
The silence stretched on around them, and Lucius cleared his throat. As he started to stand, his face tight, Hermione sighed, cursing them all for being so hardheaded, and then took it upon herself to try and alleviate the tension in the room yet again.
"They're making fun of me," she said, pushing through her discomfort to try and help ease them all into some sort of new normal for them, one that entailed time spent together once again without the threat of war, death, or hatred hanging over them like a shroud. She forced a smile, hoping it came across easier than it felt as it stretched across her face, and said, "Getting a good laugh at my early attempts to right the world's wrongs." Her eyes met Lucius's for only a second, and she thought if only for a second that she'd see a sneer, a contemptuous look, or some sort of indication that prejudice remained, but she found none. His face was completely devoid of emotion, but not blank as if he was Occluding, more as if he wasn't quite sure yet how to take her.
Regardless of how Lucius felt about her being in his home to begin with or about her reference toward house-elf liberation, her comment seemed enough to make Draco breathe a bit easier at least.
"You make it too easy." Draco's voice was still a bit strained, but he pushed through as well, a testament to his desire to move past everything, to be a part of the change taking place in his household. He lifted her hand, but she pulled it out of his grasp before his lips could touch her. When she lifted an eyebrow at him, Draco said, "We were laughing with you, not at you."
Hermione said under her breath, "Keep talking," and lifted her eyebrow at him.
His smirk said he knew exactly what her threats were hinting at, but he seemed unable to resist himself as he said, "I'm not scared of you."
"I think Miss means—" Winny began, only for Draco to cut her off quickly. Hermione wasn't entirely sure if Winny had known what she was insinuating, but based on the Cheshire grin on the little elf's face, it certainly wasn't going to be anything good.
"Winny, can you get more tea?" Draco asked, glaring daggers at the little elf, who promptly departed, the innocent smile she was wearing not fooling anyone at all, and Hermione regretted having tried to ease the situation for anyone earlier. She should have just made a bee-line for the closest floo the moment Draco's parents walked in the room.
Hermione didn't for a moment think that neither Narcissa nor Lucius cared whatsoever about her desire to better the lives of the repressed, but her overpowering unease during uncomfortable situations got the better of her. After having fought it so successfully less than two minutes prior only to be immediately thrust into the fray yet again, not to mention having her sex life alluded to while in the midst of not one but both of Draco's parents, Hermione couldn't hold back her need to speak to fill the crushing silence. "We're trying to think of names for our new venture."
She wanted to keep her eyes trained on Narcissa, worried that Lucius wouldn't be able to hold in his distaste for all the things that Hermione felt the urge to change, but she didn't. Instead, she thought she'd take the bull by the horns and push through her uncertainty, training her gaze directly on Lucius and silently daring him to be bothered by it. If he wanted to make this change in his son's life, to earn back his trust, then now was the perfect place to start.
"I want to start an advocacy group for the rights of beings and humans alike." Outside of the slight narrowing of his eyes, Lucius gave no indication of his feelings on her statement, and Hermione wasn't entirely sure if that slight microaggression was due to her boldness in staring him down as she said it or if it was because of the topic itself. Regardless, she doubled down, her eyes still trained on his.
"I want to improve living and working conditions for werewolves and make sure that house-elves have the proper protection." While she was still testing the waters with Lucius, she wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to alert him to the ideas she had in store for overhauling Azkaban, so she skipped over that part. But, not showing his own unease at her desires to change the world didn't really mean much.
It was important to her, and to Draco, to know whether or not Lucius would try to intervene when it was his son joining in to lead the charge. "And there's the whole mental health aspect as well. You all have already donated so much to the Willows and all the mental health work that they're doing there, but Draco and I both want to help them get the program fully funded by the Ministry or St. Mungo's if we can."
Narcissa Malfoy may have changed quite a bit during the war; she may have been battered and abused, pushed to her breaking point on multiple occasions, but the one thing that hadn't seemed to have shifted at all was that nothing got past her. Hermione broke Lucius's gaze as Narcissa spoke up, clearly having caught on to Hermione's test on her husband, and rather than being bothered by it, if anything, the woman looked… impressed.
Her lips were pursed slightly, drawn to one side as she bit back a smile.Her eyes flickered only briefly toward Lucius before she turned her ice-blue gaze back to Hermione and Winny popped back into the room, tea-tray balanced in her tiny hands.
"I think that's admirable, Miss Granger. You'll have your work cut out for you. The Wizengamot isn't likely to be swayed."
"You're right," Hermione said. "I know it won't be easy." She didn't expect them to just roll over; she was totally banking on a long and arduous fight. Hermione sighed, knowing she had to start somewhere. Alys had told her that the more she shared of herself, the easier it would become.
She lifted her chin, meeting Narcissa's eyes again. The smirk she'd been wearing seconds before when Hermione had stared down Lucius was gone. Instead, she looked only contemplative, her face questioning.
"It's been awhile since I wanted to fight for anything," Hermione said. "To be honest, I thought that part of me died with the war." In Narcissa's gaze, Hermione saw a tenderness she hadn't been anticipating at all, a softness in her eyes, similar to the few moments they'd shared in the waiting room following Lucius's injury, and it brought a soft smile to her face. "I'm excited for the first time in over a year, and"—she chuckled—"I'd be lying if I said a part of me wasn't looking forward to the challenge."
Their last week at The Willows meant that they had a lot of time to fill, most of which was worked into the schedule so that everyone could use that time to work out housing if need be. Parvati was moving into Seamus's flat off Diagon Alley, Dennis was staying with his parents for the time being, and Nicola was going back to her home. Hermione, despite her attempts to move out, was staying in Grimmauld upon Harry and Ginny's urging—"This place is massive, 'Mi. Don't be silly. We have plenty of room."—and Draco had finished the final paperwork on his flat last week, which, much to his dismay, just so happened to be only one street over from Seamus and Parvati's place.
"It's like we're almost roomies, mate," Seamus said when they found out how close they'd be living to one another, completely by happenstance.
"Oh, joy," Draco replied, his face every bit as excited as his voice.
They only had two group sessions left for the week, and their next outing wasn't until Wednesday, which left them all sitting around the fireplace together on Monday afternoon killing time.
"Should this be so itchy? I really feel like it shouldn't be so itchy."
"Well, don't scratch it, you dolt." Parvati slapped Dennis's hand away from his back. He was dancing from foot to foot trying to reach his shoulder blade.
Hermione dropped the book she'd been reading onto the table beside her and stood up. "Here, I've been using this, and it helps." She pulled her wand from her back pocket and twisted her finger in the air to get Dennis to turn around.
When he complied, she lifted his shirt and aimed her wand at the black etching of a golden retriever tattooed across Dennis's back. The edges were slightly red, presumably from his scratching, but otherwise, it looked no different from her own. As she cast the cooling charm, Dennis's shuffling from side to side stopped, and his shoulders sank in relief.
"Thank you so much," he said, dropping his t-shirt and turning back toward her.
"The guy said it was normal while it was healing," Hermione said as she sat back down, draping her legs across Draco's on the couch. She lifted the sleeve of her jumper, running her fingers across the ink now covering her skin, replacing the awful reminder of war that she'd carried for far too long.
She thought, after all the attempts at removing it following the war, that she'd be stuck with it forever. She knew her skin would never again be that of the unblemished child who'd started at Hogwarts a decade ago, but this had been the hardest one to accept. But when Seamus had suggested this during their free time on Saturday morning, Hermione had been shocked that she'd never considered it before.
Hermione sat sipping tea and filling the last few pages of the journal they'd gotten when they first arrived, feeling more than a little hungover from the night before and their wild night of karaoke. Her sleeves were rolled up; she'd long since given up on glamouring her scars, so the MUDBLOOD painted across her skin was on full display.
"I've been thinking," Seamus said, as he plopped down beside her.
"Dangerous, that," she interrupted him with a grin, but he charged on.
"If you ever want to get rid of this"—he tapped her wrist, just above the M—"I know a guy."
He'd lifted his shirt to show her his own tattoos, which she'd seen a few times at this point but had certainly never really taken a closer look at. Upon further inspection, she could see the faint scars beneath a few of them—jagged and slightly faded beneath the phoenix across his ribs and a thin line just barely visible under the rosary and flowing script of E nomini patri, et Fili e spiritu sancti across his chest.
"For my grandmother," he said. "She was a devout Catholic, as all respectable Irish women should be," he added sarcastically. "Anyway, I didn't mean to overstep, so if you aren't bothered by it, then—"
"I'd love that," she said quickly. She really hadn't ever thought she'd be rid of it, and now, at the prospect of covering it up, permanently and without magic, her heart danced in her chest. She actually felt a bit stupid to have not ever considered something so simple before.
Immediately the others had joined them, everyone considering the things they'd like permanently engraved on their bodies as Seamus got in touch with the Muggle tattoo artist that he used.
Draco had surprised her actually. She wasn't sure why, but she really didn't expect him to get one; maybe it was just latent expectations of his Pureblood upbringing, but as they all discussed it, Parvati and Dennis changing their minds at least a half dozen times, Draco had remained silent.
"What about my Patronus?" Parvati said. It'd only taken her another week for her own Patronus, a blackbird, to join the others in flying around the room. "Oooh oooh, what about all of ours actually." She looked around at the rest of them, her eyes wide in excitement. "We could all get our Patronuses, and it would be kind of like a memento from being here too." She made a pout and added, "Is that stupid? Too hokey?"
"No," Hermione said, considering the idea. "No, I really like that. I think that's brilliant."
As the others discussed their ideas further, Hermione scooted closer to Draco. "What do you think?"
He looked up as if just noticing she was sitting there and draped his arm across her shoulder. "I think—"
"You joining in, mate?" Seamus cut in. "You could get yours complete with Gryffindor red and gold."
Draco chuckled. "Maybe I'll get a green and silver one actually."
"Now that's just ridiculous," Seamus said.
Draco never said more than that on the subject, though it was obvious he was considering it just as much as the rest of them.
Sunday afternoon, as she sat in the big black leather chair and a beautiful dark-skinned woman with a septum ring tattooed on her arm, Hermione could see how people became addicted to this sort of thing. Really, it did hurt, particularly when the needle ran over the actual lines of her scar, but it was soothing somehow as well. She'd learned over the past few months how to Occlude to some degree and how to meditate; really, they were almost the same thing. But this was different, her mind didn't even attempt to wander as it did when she was trying to focus on her breathing. Instead, it was as if her mind was already so fixated on the stinging across her skin that nothing else could penetrate through it. But it wasn't unpleasant at all. It was more a hyper fixation, a guided meditation all its own.
She'd been expecting the woman to ask about her scar, to inquire about its meaning if not about the event itself that led to the marring of her skin, but she didn't, thankfully. She took one look at the word, her cold hands surprisingly soft as they slid across the rippled flesh. Her eyes lifted to meet Hermione's gaze, and she must've read something there, some indication of the secret that lie beneath her skin, and simply said, "Yep, I can do that."
It didn't take nearly as long as she'd expected it to, but when she walked out of the room, admiring the silhouetted forest that now stood in place of the ugly word that she never thought she'd be free of, Hermionesmiled to herself. The only color was the bright blue of the moth that flew from the top. The others were already sitting in the lobby waiting for her, except for Draco.
"Let me see!" Parvati said, jumping from her chair before Hermione had even made it across the room to her. "That's beautiful!"
"What did you get?" Hermione asked as she re-covered her arm with the bandage the tattoo artist had put across her forearm.
Parvati lifted her shirt and deftly peeled the tape from her ribs revealing a flock of blackbirds. They were flying above lyrics, words that Hermione introduced her to shortly after Parvati had produced her first Patronus: You were only waiting for this moment to be free. Blackbird, fly.
"That's perfect," Hermione said, returning Parvati's beaming smile as the others crowded round to share their new artwork—Dennis's gold retriever, Nicola's watercolor orca worked into the floral design across her hip, and a ram on Seamus's chest opposite his grandmother's rosary.
Footsteps behind them made them all turn to see Draco walking out to join them, his own forearm wrapped in gauze and tape that matched all of theirs. However, Hermione was surprised to see that the bandage he wore covered not his left arm, but his right.
They hadn't talked about it, of course, but she'd just assumed that he'd be covering his Dark Mark just as she was covering her own remnant of that same darkness. But he hadn't. His sleeves were rolled up on both sides, and the snake and skull were on full display.
He'd done this more and more often lately, but only ever at The Willows. While visiting his father in the hospital or both of his parents after they'd returned to the Manor for Lucius's physical therapy, he'd always kept it fully covered, and certainly when they'd been out, his sleeves had always remained buttoned.
This was the first time they'd been in public when he'd allowed it to see the light of day.
She looked at him, unable to control her curious expression.
"I didn't want to cover it."
Parvati and Dennis both looked just as confused for a moment before Draco clarified, staring furrow-browed down at the faded Mark across his skin. "I hate it. But I don't want to forget it. Or hide it." His eyes lifted to meet Hermione's once again as he spoke the same words she'd said to him during their first Occlumency lesson months ago. "It isn't who I am, but it's a part of me whether I try to cover it with something else or not."
The intensity of his gaze held her focus and for a moment she forgot there were others in the room at all until Seamus said, "Dude, that was… fucking profound."
Nicola rolled her eyes, and Parvati pushed Seamus's shoulder, mumbling under her breath, "Stupid."
"Seriously," he continued, dropping his chin onto Hermione's shoulder, "if you don't kiss him, I'm going to."
Hermione shrugged him off with a laugh as she stepped closer to Draco, kissing him despite the audience.
"You're not my type, mate," Draco said afterward, smirking at him.
"So, what did you get then?" Hermione asked.
Draco's arm draped across her legs, his hand massaging her thigh as he read, unfazed by the conversations going on around him. He lifted his hand to turn the page, and the green-eyed lion that covered his arm from elbow to wrist looked back at her. If she thought him sexy before—and she did—that was nothing compared to the way he looked now, reading Oscar Wilde beside her with both arms now covered in ink.
She wondered absentmindedly if he'd be opposed to getting more as she trailed her fingers up the design on his skin. He smirked, but his eyes never left the page.
"Hermione," a voice said, and she and Draco both twisted on the couch to see Walt behind them. "You have a visitor."
There had been no visits on Sunday since they'd all spent Saturday evening at a karaoke bar with their normal visitors. Though it had been fun just to be out and with friends, the night wasn't nearly the success that Alys had hoped for.
"I'm sorry, Alys. Even without the years of baggage, my ass isn't getting on that stage," Parvati had said, and the rest of them had wholeheartedly agreed, Hermione telling them all that as close as she'd get to being a star was her off-key singing in the shower.
With all of that in mind, Hermione couldn't fathom who would be visiting. "Who is it?" Hermione asked as she stood, straightening her jumper a bit, but Walt didn't answer. His eyes traveled around the room, to the rest of the group, before finding hers again. "Maybe you'd rather speak in private."
"That's not cryptic at all," Seamus said from where he sat playing poker with Dennis.
Hermione cut her eyes toward Draco before following Walt toward the door. He looked wary, brows drawn in consternation, but he said nothing as she left the room.
Just as they stepped into the hallway, Walt turned to face her. "Mr. Weasley is here to see you." Before Hermione could interject with the words that had already begun to form on her lips—Are you kidding me—he continued, his palm raised placatingly. "He has sent me no less than a dozen owls since I turned him away on Halloween, all requesting to visit you. You and Draco, to be exact."
She actually took a step back in shock, her eyes wide.
"Me and Draco?"
"He seems to think that he owes you both an apology. A real one, as he put it in his letters." Walt smiled kindly, but his face remained serious. "But I wanted to speak with you first to see if you had any interest whatsoever in speaking to him. He does seem sincere, but you're here as a guest, so that decision remains with you. I've made the wrong call before, and that put you in danger. I won't make that mistake again."
They hadn't spoken of the boggart accident since the first group meeting after it happened, wherein Walt offered to leave. They had all moved past it, but it was obvious that it was still something that bothered him.
"I don't think he's dangerous at all," she said.
"Still, this is your call."
She did take a moment to think about it. Did she want to see him? She certainly wanted the situation to be over, but she was tired of fighting. The fact that Ron had been the one to tell Pansy about Theo, despite knowing he hadn't done so maliciously, had wounded her far more than she thought possible for him. But she'd been willing to forgive him for it… until he'd behaved the way he did toward Draco. And his half-assed apology at the coffee shop a few weeks ago had just proven to her that he hadn't grown nearly as much as she thought he had since the war ended.
But that wasn't entirely fair. Ron had become the rock of his family following Fred's death in the war. He'd been the one to start working with George, not just because he wasn't enjoying being an Auror, but because he knew that George needed someone there with him. Ron had been the one to continuously reach out to Percy, refusing to allow him to blame himself for Fred's death.
And she remembered the way he'd held her in her office on the day that they'd "broken up," if a person could even call it that. Despite how hard their "relationship" had been from the very beginning, despite how hurt he'd felt at times thinking that he'd somehow been the problem, he'd come to her to comfort her, even if he didn't understand entirely what was wrong.
And now, he'd actually written to Walt. Many times, apparently.
No, Ron had grown. He still had quite a bit more to do, but then again, didn't she?
"Yes, I would like to see him," she said.
Walt smiled again. "Okay," he said, patting her shoulder.
A few moments later, after Walt asked Draco the same questions—"I'd really rather not talk to him at all, but that's probably not the right answer," he'd said—he and Hermione walked together toward Walt's office to meet Ron.
Before entering, she stopped him. "If you were serious about not wanting to speak to him, you know you have that option, right? I mean, of course, I'd much prefer he apologize to you and us all to be able to move past all of this, but I can understand if that isn't something that you're—"
"Granger," Draco said, seriously, "you're rambling." He smirked and dropped a kiss to her forehead as she took a heavy breath.
Despite thinking that Ron wasn't here to start a fight, she couldn't stop the way her pulse had continued to spike the closer they got to this door. The prospect of yet another altercation had her sweating and apparently rambling as well.
"I don't really care, to be honest," Draco said. "But I know that you do. I know he's important to you, as loathe as I am to admit it. If he can be uncomfortable, then I suppose I can too."
She couldn't help but smile at him. "Thank you," she said, lacing her fingers through his and reaching for the doorknob.
Ron stood by the floo and turned to face them as they walked in. He shuffled one foot against the carpet, his brow furrowed and his jaw set. "I was starting to worry that you weren't going to come," he said, giving a nervous chuckle before immediately dropping the tense smile from his face when she didn't laugh with him.
"Right," Ron said, dropping his gaze to the floor. He heaved a heavy sigh then took a step closer toward them. His hands, no longer wringing, were shoved into his pockets, and the toe of his shoe wasn't scuffing the floor any longer.
When he looked up again, Hermione was surprised to see that he wasn't looking at her; his eyes were focused on Draco's. After another deep breath, he said, "I'm—I'm sorry for the things I said to you. I—I didn't know the whole story, and I shouldn't have acted the way that I did. You were right," he said, his eyes shifting to meet Hermione's. "Neither of you owe me an explanation."
His words were a bit monotonous, much more rehearsed than his normal speech, but she'd take it. It was certainly a start. But when he spoke again, they lacked the mechanical tone of a practiced apology. "I—I can't lose you, 'Mi. I won't, and if that means that I have to accept him, then that's what I'll do." She opened her mouth, but he beat her to it, adding quickly, "Not that you need my permission. That's not what I mean. I just… I trust that you're capable of making your own decisions."
Hermione stood stunned for a moment. She really hadn't expected that much from him; she'd been perfectly willing to accept the pseudo-scripted one if that meant it was a step in the right direction, but this sounded completely genuine. Ron was a lot of things, but an appeaser wasn't one of them.
Ron looked at each of them, his eyes cutting back and forth, clearly expecting some sort of reaction. His face fell slightly as the silence continued, and that brought Hermione out of her stupor enough to say, "Thank you, Ron." She appreciated the gesture, she really did. And she was eager to get all of this under the bridge so they could move past it, but the wound was still too fresh, like the sting removing a bandage, when the air hits the skin for the first time. You know it's healthy, it needs to breathe, but it's still too raw to ignore just yet.
He reached up to absently rub the back of his neck, his tell that he was nervous. The same one he'd had for as long as she could remember, and Hermione felt herself thaw at seeing his obvious discomfort. He looked so much like the Ron from school, the fourteen-year-old boy that she thought she'd loved. His awkward stance reminded her who he was, who he still was. Ron, her Ron, though not in the same sense she'd thought back then. He was still just him, impulsive and rash, but often regretful of his poor, hasty decisions. And even though he'd hurt her, he'd never before made much of an effort to make it right. Just this much, this obvious uneasiness was so reminiscent of the moment when he'd shown back up in the Forest of Dean that she couldn't help but forgive him. He'd made mistakes, a lot of them, but here he was, back again and striving to right his wrongs.
Ron swallowed. "Thank you, as well, for… for what you did that day, for sending Dobby. We—we probably wouldn't have made it out of there alive, especially not Hermione. So, thank you." He stretched his hand out, offering it to Draco, and Hermione held her breath again.She could feel herself already forgiving Ron, that fresh wound stinging a bit less at the sincerity in his voice, but she certainly couldn't make Draco acceptit. Apologizing to Draco was necessary, a stipulation to her forgiveness and definitely a requirement for them to ever move past this, but it wasn't her place to forgive him for the things he'd said to Draco.
Through his hardened expression, Draco's eyes dropped to Ron's outstretched hand and back up to his face. The seconds drew out as they waited for Draco to respond, and with each passing one, she felt the tension in her start to resurface. After what felt like an eternity, Draco lifted his hand and returned the handshake.
As Draco dropped his hand, Ron glanced at her, still a bit unsure of himself, but she offered him a tentative smile before wrapping her arms around his neck. She knew she'd missed him; she'd missed their easy conversation from before they'd attempted to date. She'd missed the solidity he'd always brought to her life as much as she'd missed just having him around. But she didn't realize exactly how much until that moment, as the pressure fell away around them along with her exhale.
Ron's humbled expression met hers as he said, "I really am sorry, 'Mi. I shouldn't have—"
She shook her head, cutting him off. "I forgive you," she said with a nod, and left it at that. The smile he gave her was uncertain, but it was at least a start to bridge the chasm between them.
"Thank you." He gave another nervous laugh, shuffling again. "Now to convince Pansy as well. I feel like that one will be even harder."
Hermione tilted her head as she leveled her gaze at him. "Did you just come here to appease Pansy?"
"No!" Ron said indignantly. "Of course not."
When she lifted one eyebrow at him, he winced. "Okay, she did tell me to come, but that's not why. I had already tried to come on Halloween before I even spoke to her again."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well good luck with that. Pansy doesn't strike me as the type who's quick to forgive. She's told me that much herself actually."
She and Pansy certainly weren't friends, despite their moment together weeks ago when Pansy had confided in her about her past. At best, they'd developed a shaky sort of tolerance for one another. But regardless, Hermione couldn't help but respect the woman's tenacity. And Ron would certainly need that sort of resolve to balance his hotheadedness.
"I've tried flowers and candy. Letter after letter. I've about killed my poor owl, actually."
"You need to leave her alone."
Both Hermione and Ron immediately turned their attention toward Draco, each of them just as shocked at the other at Draco's bold statement. Ron's brows furrowed again. All at once the tension in the room returned, the unsteady rapport they'd gotten back beginning to crumble beneath her feet.
"Pansy doesn't care at all about extravagant gestures," Draco said, his expression almost bored. "And she won't respect you whatsoever if you keep blubbering after her."
This was somehow even more surprising than her original misinterpretation of what Draco meant. He was actually offering Ron advice? Advice to get Pansy back?
One glance toward Ron said he was just as shocked as she was. "So… what? I just leave her alone, then? Stop trying?"
"No," Draco spoke as if he were speaking to a toddler. "You send her one letter, telling her that you're sorry and that you won't bother her anymore, and then you leave her alone."
"And then she'll forgive me?"
Draco shrugged. "It's possible. But, she definitely won't if you keep pestering her."
Ron looked contemplative for a moment before his eyes leveled at Draco as if he suspected he was trying to sabotage everything, but just as quickly he seemed to make up his mind. "Alright, then," Ron said with a shrug. "I'll try that."
As soon as Ron departed, the green flames barely having dissolved into dust, Draco tugged her toward him. His eyes searching her face, he asked, "You okay?"
She nodded. "I'm fine." That hadn't always been true when she said it, but more and more over the last few months, she'd realized she actually meant it. She smiled as she lay her head against his chest and added, "Great, actually."