In the days that followed, Hermione buried herself in her studies in Draco's flat. After her trip to St Mungo's, she called herself in sick for the rest of her shifts for the week at the tea shop in order to recover. She kept her books from the manor in one careful stack and a pile of selections from his own shelves in another. And as though attempting to minimise the way she hadn't sought to return home in days―other than a side-along Apparition trip to retrieve some of her clothes―she largely kept to herself.
After Draco explained some basics of brewing potions, she had spent much of her time in the extra bedroom with his brewing kit. Every so often she emerged to ask him a question, but otherwise he left her to her solitary learning.
It almost felt a little like being back at Hogwarts.
Except for the way she cuddled into his side at night, her heart pulsing in rhythm with his own.
In many ways, it was serendipitous that he still wasn't working, because while she hadn't expressed it out loud, Draco suspected she was glad not to spend the days alone.
More than once, Hermione had insisted on cooking, but after several attempts wherein his kitchen was lacking in all the amenities she was accustomed to, she had settled on preparing a pot of tea numerous times each day―although Draco soon realised it was an effort to show off the warming charm she had just learned.
Draco had never had a flatmate share his space beyond his time at Hogwarts, and truthfully he had never wanted one because he valued his time and space alone. But Hermione's presence was soothing and unobtrusive enough that he started to consider that he might not mind having her around all the time.
For his part, Draco used the time to practice his spell casting as Robards had suggested. While it wasn't the same without a responsive partner, he certainly wasn't about to ask Hermione to duel with him. One evening, Theo and Potter arrived, and Draco and Potter nearly destroyed half the kitchen in a duel while Hermione and Theo gossiped on the sofa.
On Friday morning, Hermione had her first treatment session with Healer Huxley, and he could feel the nervous energy emanating from her. As Apparition was too advanced for her to learn now and Draco feared she might splinch herself―and he didn't want her to take the underground―he Apparated her to the hospital for her appointment.
When he picked her up two hours later, she had been fatigued but happy, clutching a booklet of mental exercises to help clear her mind before and after her treatment sessions. But Draco could see the spark of something brighter and deeper in her eye, and she drew close into his hold when they returned to his flat.
And at least for now, he could allow himself to believe that some things were okay.
Draco had anticipated the letters. He'd received plenty of their ilk after the war, and even more still after his own trial. Self-righteous and indignant members of the community, outraged that his acquittal had cited duress in response to many of the charges against him―and that the others provided leniency.
He had grown used to the attacks against his character, his family, his house.
But it was a different matter altogether when he wasn't the only one involved.
When the letters arrived for him, Draco carefully kept them apart from the owls that still arrived with steady consistency for Hermione, even days after her overnight stay at St Mungo's. He couldn't blame them for wanting to know the truth; wanting to know she was safe.
The letters that came for him, however, carried a far different tone.
Death Eater scum.
Rot in Azkaban.
You should have died in the war.
It hadn't taken the public long―spurred on by journalists―to look deeper into the scenario in which he had arrived at the hospital, Hermione halfway passed out in his arms and raw desperation in his voice. Most of it was speculation, of course, but some of it contained grains of truth.
Draco certainly hadn't kidnapped her, nor was she being kept under the Imperius curse. He hadn't spent the last five years dosing her with Amortentia and keeping her locked in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.
Until Hermione was ready, however, he wasn't willing to speak on her behalf. So as each angry letter arrived for him, Draco carefully read them, ignoring the bitter churning of bile in the back of his throat, and burned them.
As he read one, however, filled with particularly profane and repulsive language, he hadn't noticed Hermione looking until it was too late. She sucked in a sharp breath, fixing him with wide eyes, and asked, "Who sent you that?"
"It doesn't matter," Draco muttered, folding the letter in half twice, and tossed it into the grate. With a quick spell, flames engulfed the parchment and it crumbled to ash. "No one I know."
"Why have you received such horrendous mail?" she gasped, her voice oddly high pitched.
In his best effort to brush off the subject, he snickered. "Apparently, I've been keeping you locked away in the dungeons."
"Draco, that's atrocious," she whispered, her brows knitting.
"That," he drawled, "is what our world thinks of me. I did warn you."
Hermione frowned at him, as though she couldn't make sense of the situation, and he wondered whether she perhaps hadn't registered the truth of it all. It would have been difficult, he thought, when she didn't have any measure of context on the matter. It was one thing for him to tell her about the war and the fact that he had once been a Death Eater, but another entirely for her to see the hatred firsthand.
"It's dreadful," she whispered. "You're an Auror."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Not everyone cares about that sort of thing. The wizarding world as a whole is rather close-minded; I know that better than anyone. Most people don't believe that a person can change and grow into someone other than who they were as a child."
"You went through a war." Her eyes were glassy. "How could you not?"
His mind screamed the same sentiment―had been doing so for years―but he only pulled her hand into his and planted a kiss on her palm. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
"They just don't see the man I see." Her stare drifted to land on his, soft yet intense, and his heart stuttered a beat. "Or they would never say those sorts of things to you."
Sliding a hand into her curls, Draco pressed a kiss to her lips. "I don't deserve you," he murmured against her mouth. "But I'm selfish and I don't want to give you up."
As she deepened the kiss, her tongue grazing his lips and stoking heat within him, another owl clawed at the window and Draco groaned as he drew back. He met her eye for a moment with a brusque, "Hold that thought," before rising. But he recognised the bird as Potter's, and the tension fell from his countenance as he retrieved its letter.
Malfoy
Theo and I are going to Andromeda's for dinner tonight. You and Hermione should join us―I know it would mean a lot to Andromeda. Five o'clock.
HP
Draco's brow wrinkled as he reread the letter, feeling the curiosity of Hermione's gaze on him, before he handed it to her. "Who's Andromeda? Five o'clock is only an hour from now."
He huffed a sigh, feeling a flicker of irritation. "Because Potter knew I wouldn't have time to reject the invitation." Then he settled beside her once more and pursed his lips. "Andromeda's my aunt―my mother's sister. But they've been estranged since before I was born. She sees Potter because he's her grandson's godfather―my cousin―and Teddy lives with her. His parents didn't survive the war."
"Oh," Hermione breathed, clapping a hand to her mouth. "How terrible." She hesitated for a moment and added, "I have to assume this isn't the mad aunt?"
"No!" The word fell from his lips instantly and he grimaced. "No, she's dead."
"Okay."
Nervous tension settled within his entire body as he considered the idea. "I scarcely know the woman, and I've never met Teddy."
Hermione pulled his hand into hers. "Maybe today's the day for it?" The words were gentle and he could feel the reassurance; she would go with him if he wanted to―but she was leaving the decision to him.
After his conversation about it with Theo the night Hermione was in the hospital, he had given the idea some thought.
The thought of having Theo there―and to a certain extent, he had come to trust Potter as well even if they weren't entirely friends―helped to tame some of his reticence on the matter.
"We should go," he said at last. "If you want to."
The soft curve to her lips suggested it was the decision she would have made, too. "Okay," she said, capturing his lips in another kiss. "I'll get ready."
Draco swallowed, a frisson of anxiety swelling with him, but he did his best to suppress it. If he was honest, it might be nice to get to know the woman. And like Theo said―she was family, and the rest of his family hadn't been particularly well-adjusted for a long time. He nodded as Hermione left the room, sinking a little deeper into the sofa.
Although he didn't know the appropriate sort of attire to wear for Sunday dinner with long-estranged family, Draco had always been taught to dress a step above for any occasion. In that vein of thought, he donned a crisp shirt and tie, and eyed a pair of crystal cufflinks before deciding better of it.
He also didn't know what the occasion called for as his mother had never spoken of Andromeda and he couldn't imagine what sort of dinner they'd be attending.
"You look sharp," Hermione said, coming up behind him in the room. She laced her arms around his middle from behind, resting her face against his back. "I didn't know it was a formal dinner."
"Too much?" Draco asked, wincing.
"Draco." He could hear the reprobation in her voice but she sighed. "I don't remember if I ever met your aunt, but I can only imagine she doesn't expect you to wear a tie to dinner with a young child."
He wrinkled the bridge of his nose. "Good point." He dropped his hand onto hers and turned to face her. "I imagine you would have met her. She was with the Order of the Phoenix during the war." He snickered, glancing away. "She might be more excited to see you than me, to be honest."
"I'm not her nephew," she reminded him. Reaching up, she loosened his tie and pulled the silk free from his throat, her expression softening. She plucked open the top two buttons of his shirt. "She wouldn't have invited you if she didn't want to see you."
Draco took the tie from her, pulling her flush against him. She had still been taking certain potions prescribed by Healer Huxley after the strain of her episode earlier in the week, and he had been cautious in their physical interactions until her health was fully restored. But the feel of her pressed against him awoke the same heat he always felt around her, rising and coursing in his veins.
He only pressed a brief kiss to her lips. "Thank you."
Hermione snaked a hand up into his hair and drew his mouth firmer against hers, delving between his lips with her tongue. After she pulled back, she breathed, "I'm not going to break if you touch me, you know."
Draco swallowed. "Noted."
"As much as I appreciate that you're trying to be respectful," she teased, smoothing one hand down the fabric of his shirt, "it's unnecessary."
Against his will, he felt his body responding to her words and glanced at the clock even as he toyed with the waistband of her skirt. "We have to leave in fifteen minutes."
She nipped his bottom lip. Releasing the clasp of his belt, she tugged his shirt tail free. "Then I might suggest we stop talking about this."
A heavy breath fell from his lips, and when her fingers grazed his hardening member, he groaned. Bunching the fabric of her skirt around her arse, he backed her into the wall as he ducked in to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. He fumbled with the closure of his trousers, pushing them from his hips while he tugged at her knickers with his other hand.
Hermione made quick work of the row of buttons on his shirt then toed her knickers the rest of the way free.
"You're going to be the death of me," Draco muttered when he slipped two fingers between her folds to discover her already wet and ready for him.
She flashed him a grin as she palmed his cock, and the feel of it chased through a jolt of arousal through him. "Not a bad way to go at least."
He released a laugh and removed his pants. Meeting her stare for a moment, he smirked and hoisted her up by her arse; she wound her legs around his hips as he wrapped an arm around her back and pressed her against the wall.
Her wetness grazed the tip of his cock when she shifted, and he groaned when he slid into her tight heat. Dragging her mouth to his, her tongue tangled with his as he set a quick pace, swallowing her cries.
Sliding her hands into his hair and mussing his careful styling, she breathed his name, her pupils blown wide with desire.
Draco felt warmth flush his skin, adrenaline rushing through him at the feel of her as she eased onto him with each thrust. And he drove into her harder, faster, chasing his own release, lost in her.
She clung to his shoulders, burying her face in his throat, and her moans tickled his ears as her breathing quickened.
He reached down between them, seeking her clitoris with the pad of his thumb, and she came with a scream of his name, her walls tightening with a flutter around his cock. Climax swelled and broke within him, waves of pleasure washing over him as a groan fell from his lips.
His eyes slid open to find hers, her face flushed and shoulders falling with rapid breaths. Hermione smiled, carefully separating herself, and dropped to the floor.
As he came down from his orgasm, he cracked a lazy grin.
"Not nervous anymore?" she asked, eyes crinkling.
Draco nipped the tip of her nose with his teeth. "Witch." But he pulled her against him, released a breath, and added, "My witch."
Her arms wound around his back for a moment; she felt small and comforting in his arms. Collecting her knickers from the floor, she made for the loo, but stopped in the doorway and shot him her swottiest look. "You really ought to get ready, Draco. We're going to be late."
He bit down hard on his knuckle as he watched her go.
They were ten minutes late.
He hadn't had time to properly fix his hair, and Hermione eyed him with a sparkle in her eye on the front step after he rapped sharply on the door. She held a bottle of wine Draco had found for the occasion.
To his surprise, a small boy of around four or five opened the door, and Draco's heart jolted in his chest to see the boy had bright turquoise hair with matching eyebrows. His grey eyes―a match to Draco's own―widened in delight upon seeing them.
"Are you Draco?" the boy asked, gaping his mouth open.
"I am," Draco returned, clearing his throat. "You must be Teddy?"
"My name is Edward Lupin," he said, lifting his chin, "but you can call me Teddy."
"Teddy! Sorry about that. He knows better than to answer the door―he's just excited." Andromeda bustled into the entrance, looking harried, but a genuine smile spread across her face as she turned to Draco, and a sort of peace spread about her countenance. The woman wore a thin summer dress, and he was glad he had forgone the tie. "Draco, Hermione. Thank you for coming. Come in, of course."
Draco's chest tightened at the reception as they entered the home, emotion he hadn't anticipated creeping in, and he proffered a hand. "Andromeda. Thank you for having us."
His aunt stared at the hand for a moment, flitted her gaze to Hermione, then snorted. Before Draco could make sense of the interaction, Andromeda stepped forward and pulled him into an embrace.
His throat tightened, warmth clawing up his neck, and after a stilted moment, he wrapped his arms around the woman's smaller form. She was so alike his mother but the opposite in so many ways, from her dark hair to her easy smile. At last she pulled back, wiping at her eyes, and shared a brief hug with Hermione as well.
"I apologise," Andromeda said, her eyes a little glossy. "It's just―welcome."
Draco pursed his lips, furrowing his brow at the unexpected ambush welling within him. "Thank you."
"It's our pleasure," Hermione said but gnawed on her lip for a moment, brandishing the bottle of wine. "I'm not sure whether Harry's informed you―"
"Thank you. He has," Andromeda returned as she accepted the gift, an apologetic tilt to her mouth. "And you are, of course, welcome as ever. You're both family, and that will never change."
Shamed throbbed within him as he thought of his reticence to accept a simple dinner invitation, and Draco vowed silently to make an effort at further reconciliation with Andromeda and Teddy. As it was, the small boy trailed along after him, his hair shifting into a pale blond to match Draco's, and an unexpected bark of laughter fell from his lips.
"About time," Theo drawled when they entered the sitting room, and Draco felt a smile form unbidden. He caught Hermione's eye in his periphery and felt content in a way he hadn't expected.
Dinner was altogether nothing like Draco had suspected. He knew Andromeda had been singed from the Black family tapestry when she married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks―and the situation carried heavy irony―but he hadn't anticipated her joy. Especially considering all she had lost only a handful of years ago in the war; her husband and her only daughter within months of one another.
In the depth of her eyes, Draco could see the sadness that he knew well enough.
But the woman appeared genuinely happy to have company, and Draco found himself surprised with the way he released so much of his guard in the small group.
Teddy had insisted upon sitting to one side of him with Hermione on the other, and the boy's hair remained a platinum match to his own. At one point, Draco glanced over to see the boy had grown a beak, and a startled laugh slipped from his lips.
The casual freedom of the family meal was foreign, when Draco had grown up in the quiet and formal setting of Malfoy Manor.
A steady string of conversation flowed between the group, from Theo's early days in his Potions apprenticeship, to Hermione's first mind therapy session, to Teddy's fall from his broom the week before.
Draco felt a stinging undercurrent through it all. Shame, regret, and a niggling sort of hopefulness.
He had been so caught up in his own concerns―his mother's illness, his father's trial, and his issues at work―that he had blinded himself to the fact that he had other people who still cared enough to humble him.
It was the gathering he hadn't realised until that moment that he needed.
After dinner, the group gathered in the sitting room with dishes of ice cream―at Teddy's insistence―and the boy wedged himself onto the end of the sofa at Draco's side.
"Harry says you played Quidditch at Hogwarts," he said, turning bright grey eyes on Draco. He bounced in his seat, kicking his heels into the front of the sofa. "What did you play?"
Draco snickered, shifting closer towards Hermione to make room for his small cousin. "We both played Seeker against one another."
"Wow!" Teddy exclaimed, his mouth falling open. "Did you catch the Golden Snitch?"
Draco could feel Potter's amusement on him from across the room where he sat with Theo. "Sometimes," Draco said with a nod. "Though I must admit, Potter usually bested me. Whether the plays were always legal is a different matter."
"Hey," Potter retorted, "there's nothing in the rules to say you can't catch the Snitch with your mouth."
At that, Teddy dissolved into peals of laughter, clutching his stomach.
Hermione nudged Draco in the side, a soft smile on her face.
Teddy grabbed hold of Draco's forearm with his small hand. "Look at this!" And his hair shifted from blond to turquoise and back again, colours streaking through it for a moment before it settled on turquoise. "Can you do that, Draco?"
"I cannot, I'm afraid," he replied in a somber tone. "Only really special people can change their hair like that on command. It's a great colour, though."
Giggling, Teddy began to bounce in his seat again. "It's my favourite!"
"I can, however," Draco went on, drawing his wand, "do this." He cast a spell at Potter, turning the man's scruffy hair into a shade of fluorescent pink. At the irritation that flickered through Potter's brow, Teddy was lost again to an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
In retaliation, Potter cast a spell to turn Draco's own hair lime green.
Snickering, Draco shook his head and asked Teddy, "Is this a good colour for me?"
"Yes," Teddy choked between laughs as he slapped his own thigh. "It's very green!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco found Andromeda watching him quietly as she sipped a cup of tea. He offered a thin smile, some of the playfulness fading at the significance in her stare.
"It's nearly your bedtime, Teddy," she said quietly, eliciting a groan from the boy. "But perhaps, Draco, you'll indulge me for a few minutes."
Hermione's hand landed on his for a brief moment as Draco nodded. "Of course."
He walked with the woman from the house into the welcoming gardens, and while he stood several inches taller, he could feel the same presence to her that his mother often carried. Or had, prior to falling ill.
"It means a lot that you accepted my invitation tonight," Andromeda said softly, breaking the slight tension between them. "Both you and Hermione. I confess, I frequently ask Harry about your wellbeing as I know the pair of you work together." She turned doleful grey eyes on him. "It may not be my place to say, but I'm proud of you, Draco."
The words both surprised and disarmed him, and Draco stared at her for a long moment before he nodded. "I appreciate that. It hasn't been easy, but it was my desire to make something of myself after the war. Something more than the role I fell into during school."
"I can see that," she said quietly. "You're very good with Teddy. I know he'll be raving about you all week."
Draco, who hadn't had much experience around children, cracked a grin. "He's great fun. I can tell you've done well in raising him." Sobering, he glanced away. "I know it's long belated, but I am sorry. For your losses―I can't imagine what you must have gone through in losing both Ted and Nymphadora."
He didn't know whether it was his place to say that either, but he couldn't withhold the sentiment.
Andromeda simply nodded, clasping her hands at her front. "It was tremendously difficult, and oftentimes it still is. But Teddy keeps me present, and I see so much of Dora in him. I often have to remind myself that she and Remus died so that little Teddy could grow up in happiness and freedom."
Draco felt a fluttering of shame in the pit of his stomach. But before he could come up with anything remotely proper to say, she pressed on.
"I know how hard you're trying, Draco," she murmured. "Just as I know it isn't easy to turn on your upbringing. As much as I knew I loved Ted, it wasn't easy to walk away and allow myself to be removed from the family. I respect you for your decisions."
"Thank you." He slipped his hands into his pockets as they walked on. "Fortunately, I'm no longer bothered over such things, but there are so few Blacks remaining, and my mother has neither the authority nor the wherewithal to remove me. Of course, she doesn't know of Hermione yet." He cast Andromeda a brief glance. "I imagine you've heard of her condition."
"I have," she acquiesced with a nod. "I was sorry to hear―and of your father's impending trial. You're certainly getting it from all sides."
Draco released a sigh. "Yes."
"I considered reaching out to your mother," Andromeda went on after silence hung for a moment. "Though I have no idea how I would be received. It might be too late for any chance at reconciliation between us."
"Honestly?" Draco lifted a brow. "She's very proud, but I think she would be happier for it. She's been so alone since my father went to Azkaban, and especially now." He forced a thick swallow. "Her healers don't suppose she'll recover."
Andromeda grimaced, shaking her head slowly. "I'm sorry, Draco."
"Reach out to her," Draco pressed softly. "If it's your desire. Or better yet, I'll alter the wards so you can visit and she can't refuse." They shared a grin before he sighed. "I don't think my father's trial will be an easy time for her."
Eyeing him for a moment, she nodded at last. "I think I will. Thank you, Draco―and thank you for coming tonight. It'll mean a lot to Teddy to know you, and it means a lot to me as well. Harry visits frequently, and now with Theo as well. You and Hermione are always welcome."
"I appreciate that." They walked in silence for another moment, Draco falling into introspection. "I'll be happy to come by more often. I'd love to get to know you both better."
"Teddy will be thrilled," Andromeda said. "As much as I do my best, he needs male figures in his life too. And I don't have the energy to keep up with him like I used to."
When they returned to the house, Draco could feel Hermione's gaze lingering on him, and he offered a smile. Teddy sat half-collapsed against her, his eyes glassy as he stifled a yawn, and Andromeda scooped him up.
Potter chuckled as he rose. "Thanks for dinner, Andie. We'll see ourselves out." He pressed a kiss to her cheek before making towards the entrance and the rest of them followed.
Teddy flopped against Andromeda's shoulder, spent, as she flashed the group a smile. "Thank you all for coming. See you soon," she said, already retreating towards the upper level.
Making to leave, Draco caught Hermione's eye, inordinate warmth swelling within him. But Potter wrapped a hand around his shoulder and dragged him into the kitchen, his face stern. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news," he said gruffly by way of explanation, "but Robards asked me to let you know. The trial's been scheduled. Two weeks from tomorrow."
Draco felt his heart drop into his stomach like a stone.
Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Your comments always make me smile, and I hope you liked the chapter!
Generic non-spoiler/reminder for some point in future chapters that this fic contains heavy angst.
Thanks to Kyonomiko and FaeOrabel for all their help with this story xo
