Hermione had pretty much given up hope of ever finishing the move by New Year's. Visions of blissfully quiet years locked away in a library of libraries were fading into the distance with each passing day.
The amount of useless crap stored away in the Archive was insurmountable by a single person, even when that person possessed a unique talent for magic. Of course, the handful of wizards that had actually responded to her help wanted ad possessed the cumulative brain capacity of a flobberworm. A swarm of Cornish Pixies would probably be more help than the moronic oafs she'd interviewed, most of who were looking for some quick, easy money. All she had wanted was a quiet, librarian type like herself. Maybe an older Hogwarts student on holiday. Instead she'd gotten Wilbur the Magnificent with a penchant for smashing delicate items with the club he kept at his side.
Knowing her job was on the line, Hermione had succumbed to living at the Archive. The commute from her flat to work was time that could be spent packaging and cataloguing earmuffs. So, she'd given up the comfort of her bed for a cot in her office. Definitely not ideal, but she wasn't about to sacrifice her livelihood for a good night's sleep.
She'd worked her way up to the G's and as she seriously considered simply destroying the Gnarled-back Pigglywink Detectors because they kept going off and that awful noise was enough to drive anyone completely bonkers, the front desk buzzer sounded sharply over the cacophony of noise. Thankful for the excuse, Hermione jammed the detectors back into their box and quickly exited the stacks.
Hermione had expected a delivery man, a Ministry worker, or even Ginny. Anyone than who actually waited for her. When she saw the person standing at the front desk, Hermione skidded to a halt in her trainers, stale Archive dust floating around her.
She would have guessed a Gnarled-back Pigglywink waited for her before she guessed that Draco Malfoy had walked into the Archive. Yet there he stood, in a set of worn, but clean brown robes, looking considerably better than he had the last time she had seen him. At their last meeting over two years ago he had been clad in the standard Azkaban uniform of rags, dirt, and a scowl.
Malfoy looked just as shocked as she felt. The dark circles under his eyes stood out against his pale skin as he blinked in surprise. Hermione wondered if he was replaying their last meeting as she was. Or maybe he was remembering the time before that, which had been even more of a disaster.
Hermione had been pouring over some intercepted owl transmissions, trying to calculate their validity, when she'd sensed his presence. He hadn't made a noise as he entered the small, candlelit room. So, she had no idea how long he had stood, leaning against the wall as she worked diligently. Only a slight shiver of something up her back caused her to finally turn.
Chewing absent-mindedly on her quill, Hermione twisted around in her chair. A quiet squeak of surprise escaped her mouth at the sight of a figure lurking in the shadows of the room. There stood Draco Malfoy, watching her intently, grey eyes nearly non-existent in the dark. Her surprise quickly melted away.
"Malfoy," she grinned. "Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to sneak up on people?" she added as she draped her right arm across the top of the chair.
"I'm sure you did at some point," he replied sourly.
"Rough day at the office, Draco?" Hermione cocked her head to the side and twisted her quill around in her fingers. She heard him scoff and watched him cross his black-clad arms. Really, he'd been spending far too much time with Snape. Hermione wished he'd at least try on the blue shirt she'd bought him for his birthday.
"Where's Potter and Weasley?" he asked as he looked around the room.
"I think Harry's checking out a lead in Birmingham and Ron's at Headquarters. Why? Do you have news?" Realization suddenly clicked in Hermione's brain and she could barely contain her excitement. Her hands clenched the back pole of the chair as she continued. "Do you know where Voldemort is hiding? Oh Draco, you should have gone straight to-."
"Belt up, Granger," he snarled and then pushed himself off the wall. "It's nothing to do with that."
"Is everything okay?" Hermione's eyebrows came together as she watched him in concern. She set the quill down and rose to face the tall, blonde wizard who stood unmoving as he looked down at her. An ugly scowl had carved itself onto his face and it made Hermione worry. "I've missed you," she smiled sweetly and placed her hand gently on his cheek. She only managed to brush her lips across his before he gruffly pulled away. His grey eyes and the face around them were hard as he regarded her with ill-hidden contempt. "What's wrong, Draco? What's happened?"
The muscles in his jaw worked viciously as he breathed heavily out of his nose. "Narcissa is dead."
"What? No. She's safe," Hermione shook her head and stepped towards the angry wizard. She could feel her pulse start to increase even as she tried to deny it. "We're protecting her."
"Well done then, given she's dead," he sneered.
"I haven't heard anything," she said softly. "I would have heard something."
"Oh, well, maybe your owl got lost," he replied with patronizing concern. "Because, everyone in Voldemort's camp knows."
"Draco," Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes and she reached for the mourning wizard. Her entire face burned with anger and sorrow for Narcissa and Draco, both of whom had gone through so much. "I'm so sorry." She saw something flash in his eyes before his hands clamped down on her arms.
"Sorry? You're sorry?" he spat out. Hermione's eyes narrowed in concern. He just looked so angry, angrier than she had ever seen him.
"Of course I am," she whispered. "How could I not be?"
"How can you say that?" he growled through clenched teeth while his fingers dug painfully into her upper arms.
"Draco, you're hurting me," Hermione tried peeling his bruising grip off of her, but he didn't budge. There was something, a wildness, in him that was starting to scare her. His dark grey eyes seemed unfocused, his face etched in hatred.
"I'm hurting you," he laughed dryly and shook her slightly.
"What-, Draco, I-," A few tears fell down her cheeks from the pain and confusion. "I don't understand."
He gave another quick, severe laugh before placing a harsh kiss on her lips. He was strong and demanding, his mouth overpowering her. Hermione gladly settled into the kiss, tenderly accepting the force of it, wanting simply to be there for him. He pulled away and looked sternly down at her.
"Draco, is there something-," Hermione started breathlessly, but was soon cut off by another forceful kiss. His hands jumped from her arms to her hair, pulled her head roughly back by the locks as his mouth came crashing down on her. His tongue thrust into the cavern of her mouth, slickly tracing the edges of her teeth and sliding along her own tongue. Kissing Draco Malfoy was always an intense experience, but this was different. Somehow, it was wrong.
"Maybe we should talk for a second," Hermione said as she pulled away. With a soft smile she smoothed the blonde hair of the man before her.
"I don't want to fucking talk, Granger," he frowned and lowered himself for another violent taste of her lips. Hermione was shaken by the language that fell from his mouth. So she pulled back, breathless, her hands clutching his shoulders.
"But, Narcissa," Hermione began. But he was on her again, one palm manhandling her breast through the cotton of her shirt. His teeth bit down fiercely on her lower lip and Hermione yanked away with a cry. "Draco, what is going on?"
"Shut-up, Granger. Just shut-up," His fingers were in her hair again and she could feel him shaking. "Can't you give me this?" Hermione swallowed hard and regarded him for a moment. He was staring at her with a kind of un-hinged intensity she'd never seen before. All she wanted to do was make his hurt go away. All she could do was answer him with a kiss.
He sucked air in greedily between each meeting of their lips. Quickly, he backed her up against the table. His hands were rough under her bra, kneading and pulling at the soft flesh. She tried to match his forcefulness as she ran her hands up his back, kissing him passionately. But it wasn't enough for the wizard who mumbled curses as he unzipped her pants and pulled them down her hips.
He laid a trail of hot, biting kisses up her neck to her ear. He sucked greedily on the lobe while his coarse fingers slipped past her underwear and worked at her center. "Bend over you fucking liar," he whispered harshly and nipped at her throat. Hermione stiffened and shook off the shroud of arousal draping itself across her body.
"What did you say?" she took her hands off his shoulders and frowned. His eyes narrowed as he met her gaze.
"I said bend over," he repeated and pushed a digit into her. Hermione couldn't suppress a moan as his thumb dragged over the bundle of nerves between her thighs. Her nails dug into the soft wood of the table as his fingers worked in and out of her. "Now," he ordered viciously. With brutal hands he turned and bent her torso across the table. He pushed her jeans down further with his shoes as he hovered above her ear. "This must be a familiar position, for a whore like you, Granger."
Hermione was beyond confused. They weren't complete strangers to talking dirty during their bedroom sessions, but it was never like this. It was never malicious. And while she was completely aroused, she was utterly disturbed. "Draco, are you okay?"
"No I'm not fucking O.K.," he snapped in response and yanked her legs apart. "How could I be O.K.?" Hermione hear the sound of a zipper and the familiar rustling of pants as they dropped to his knees. "You killed my mother," and with that he thrust completely into her. Hermione arched off the table, the sharp edge of the wood digging painfully into her abdomen. She tried to find purchase with her hands, but questing fingers were only met with useless parchment paper. Then his words sunk in.
"What?" was all a shocked Hermione could gasp as he pulled slowly out and brutally pounded back in, his fingers bruising her hips as he held her. "Fuck," she breathed as reached around and pinched her clit viciously. Her body was ignoring the words and only responding to the consuming blaze of his unforgiving movements. This was the most powerful coupling they'd had in quite some time. He'd been gone on assignment for far too long.
"You and your lying friends killed my mother," he spat and thrust repeatedly, pulling her ass roughly back against him.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione tried frantically to turn and face the wizard, wanting with all her heart to meet his eyes. But his hand found her neck and forcibly pinned her face to the table. "How can you think that?" she cried desperately, tears staining the pages beneath her cheeks. Her long hair knotted horribly beneath his hand as his fingers pulling savagely on her scalp.
"Because I know it's the truth."
"It's not!"
"Don't lie to me Hermione!" he lowered his head to hers and barked.
"I would never lie to you," she tried in vain to reach him with her hands. Wanting to comfort and hold him; to dispose of the awful lies that poisoned him.
"You used me," he added solemnly.
"No, I didn't. No, no, no," Hermione whimpered and shook her head as he returned to pumping in and out of her. The fury that had raged through him seemed to have dissipated. He didn't yell, didn't say anything. But he continued to keep his hand clamped to the back of her neck, keeping her from moving, while she cried softly against her arm.
He came with a shudder and a grunt, and then stepped back silently and pulled his trousers back on. Hermione took a deep, trembling breath and pushed herself off the table. "Draco!" she shouted desperately and pulled up her jeans. He didn't look up at her as he fastened the button on his pants. She took another deep breath and wiped at the dried tears on her cheeks. "We need to talk," Hermione swallowed and tried to steady herself. "You have to listen to me." She took a shaky step towards him.
"Don't come near me, you filthy little Mudblood," his lip curled in distaste.
He hadn't used that word in a very long time. With everything they had gone through, with everything they had built together, it hurt more than it ever had before.
"How can you say that?" Hermione asked hoarsely, sobs catching in her throat.
"You're a liar," he replied harshly. Hermione could only watch as he Disapparated, leaving her horribly, dreadfully alone.
The Draco Malfoy that stood before her now looked like the Draco Malfoy she preferred to remember. The blonde wizard before her was tall and handsome, but the angry crease of his brow and heated clench of his jaw were gone. The man on the other side of the counter was thin and pale, obviously not fully recovered from his stint in Azkaban, this was the man she remembered. And the neatly trimmed, always styled blonde hair she had loved to run her fingers through now hung loose at his shoulders.
He still had the same beautiful grey eyes.
"Malfoy," she said breathily, her throat suddenly dry. Hermione swallowed nervously and pulled at the edges of her shirt. Her wrist rubbed against the outline of her wand that was carelessly tucked into her side pocket and she slowly let out a sigh of relief.
Malfoy glanced around the room, looking strikingly like a frightened animal in a cage. He really had not expected her to be here. "I should go," he mumbled quietly and turned to leave.
"So you were released," Hermione jumped in, hoping to stall him, and realizing she didn't sound too bright stating the obvious.
"Yes," he said simply, still facing the door, waiting to flee. The silence stretched out while Hermione searched for something appropriate to say. "Thank you," he finally added. Hermione felt her lower lip quiver and was grateful Malfoy was facing the opposite direction.
"I- what have you been up to?" Hermione could not believe the insipid topics her mind chose to come up with.
"I'm working for a witch," Malfoy glanced over his shoulder at her and paused. "Odd jobs here and there."
"Oh," Hermione said and chewed on her lip, not sure where to go. "What are you doing here?"
"I," he took a deep breath and finally turned to face her. "I came to apply for a job."
"Oh," she literally felt her stomach drop to her knees. For a moment she'd almost hoped he'd come to see her. "But you said-."
"I'll just go," Malfoy ran a hand through his sleek hair.
"You don't have to," the words flew out of her mouth before she noticed. Malfoy stopped and looked back at her questioningly. She laughed nervously and continued. "Equal Opportunity Employer, and all."
"I don't think-."
"Former Azkaban inmates are perfectly welcome here!" she smiled widely and held her arms out. "So what experience do you have?" Hermione wanted so desperately to stop talking like a moron, but didn't want him to leave, couldn't let him walk out that door. She just had to keep the topic of conversation in a safe area, nothing too personal, and nothing too dangerous: ignore the messy topics.
"I, well," he stuttered. "Experience in what?"
"Archiving."
"Ah, well. None."
"But you've been in a library before."
"Of course."
"You know the alphabet."
"Yes."
"Excellent."
"I suppose."
"Plus, you are a gradu-," Hermione felt her cheeks burn red and quickly stumbled to recover. "You attended Hogwarts."
"Correct."
"So you are familiar with magic."
"Yes, but-."
"But, what?"
"I," his hand ran through his hair again. "I don't have a wand."
Something inside Hermione snapped at those words. The initial disturbing shock of seeing Malfoy wore off rapidly. "Nor should you," she frowned bitterly.
"I'm going to leave now."
"No, you're not."
"I really think I should," he turned once again for the door.
"No, you really shouldn't," Hermione said darkly and quickly cast a locking spell on the doors. "We have a lot to talk about."
"Is this really necessary?" Now he really looked like a caged animal.
"I want an explanation," Hermione gripped her wand tightly as she watched the wizard shift back and forth on his feet.
"I can't," was all he replied.
"I need an explanation, Malfoy," she insisted and finally took another step towards Malfoy, her eyes burning in fury and despair.
"I can't give you one," he closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.
"You can't get off that easy, Malfoy!" she finally exploded. "You owe me an explanation!" Sparks flew unbidden from her wand.
"Don't you think I know that?" his eyebrows knotted together when he finally looked up at her. His grey eyes looked so sad, but Hermione could find no pity in her heart for the wizard. "But I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because there isn't one. Nothing I say will make what I did okay," he clenched his fists in frustration. "I was a pawn, easily manipulated into doing Voldemort's bidding."
"You're responsible for your actions, Malfoy. Not Voldemort."
"I know that!" he replied in torment. "My mother was dead, I needed someone to blame. Voldemort told me how you lot had been lying to me the entire time, how you had killed my mother to manipulate me-."
"I would never do that, how could you believe that?" Hermione shook her wand furiously at the distressed wizard.
"I don't know, I just don't know."
"You'll have to do better than that."
"I can't."
"You owe me more than that," Hermione cried out angrily. "You owe our child more than that!"
"What?" Sorrow and frustration were washed from his face to be replaced only by confusion, and finally, a horrified understanding.
Slowly, she lifted the cloth of her shirt with a shaky hand to reveal a large pink scar radiating out across the expanse of her torso in a horrific mockery of the sun. The ridges were raised and pink, still angry looking after nearly two years. "Courtesy of your close, personal friends, I believe. Maybe you can go visit them in Azkaban to express your thanks."
"Hermione, I had no idea-." He began, his eyes filled with pleading and he took a step forward.
"Get out," she growled.
"But I-, what happen-," he started.
"Get out," Hermione unlocked the doors and quickly backed into the stacks. She couldn't watch him leave and she would never let him see her cry.
----
Draco stood poised at the large wooden door, knob in hand, ready to escape. Two minutes ago, Draco would have gladly fled through those doors and into the safe obscurity of Muggle London. They didn't recognize him as spy, a dirty double agent. The Muggles didn't care that he had betrayed the single most important person in his life. They didn't care one way or the other as he walked silently down the streets.
Suddenly Draco was very angry at the Daily Prophet for not mentioning the fucking Archive was run by Hermione Fucking Granger. That would have been useful knowledge. Meaning, it would have kept him from going at all. And he was angry at Lucille for being such a raving lunatic. If she wasn't so crazy he wouldn't have started searching for another job.
Yes, it was their fault. Lucille and the Daily Prophet.
He punched the large slab of oak with his fist as he let loose a curse. It wasn't their fault, it was his fault. It had all been his fault. And now he wanted to hide, to continue being the coward he had proven himself to be. It would be so easy to just walk away, leave any more ugly confrontations behind him. But he didn't deserve the easy way out.
Hermione had never taken the easy way. Even after his betrayal of the Order she'd stayed by him, his sole defense despite all that he'd done. She'd spoken on his behalf before the Wizengamot, cataloguing all that he had done in the fight against Voldemort. He'd read the transcripts of her testimony and seen how she had fought for him, how she'd begged them to be lenient, to reduce his sentence, to see the mitigating evidence that led to his eventual breakdown and betrayal.
She was a better person than he could ever be. He'd tossed her aside on the words of a man that spent his entire life using and lying to people. He'd believed Voldemort over the girl who only lived to help.
He didn't deserve Hermione Granger. He'd known that from the moment he'd walked through the doors of 12 Grimmauld Place. While Potter and all the Weasley offspring had practically drawn and quartered him on the spot, Granger waited patiently. Snape explained what happened their sixth year at Hogwarts and how Draco wanted to join the fight against the Dark Lord. All the adults had known for a while but had figured, correctly, that the younger half of the Order wouldn't be as quick to accept.
That had been the beginning of their unlikely friendship. At the start, whenever Draco reported to the Order with the intelligence he gathered, he preferred to speak to one of the older members. But as the war progressed, the time spent by the Order in the field far outweighed the time spent planning. Meaning, the younger troops were often the sole inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place. Draco would then report to the one member that he was less likely to get into a round of bare-knuckle boxing with: Hermione Granger. After all the grief he had given her during their years at Hogwarts she had accepted him.
What started off as a tense exchange of information started to develop into an easy repertoire. Draco curbed his slowly diminishing prejudices while Granger did her best not to push any buttons. They would discuss possibilities to counteract Voldemort's plans and even speculate on what the Dark Lord would do next. Having a common enemy made things a lot easier. And with Hermione learning to be more at ease with him, the more combustible members of the Order soon fell in line.
They weren't exactly all friends, but after a year and half of working together, could stand to be in the same room for a while. They recognized the danger of Draco's situation and respected him for that. While Potter rarely uttered a word in his direction, it eventually reached a point where Draco could join in the amiable joking that the twins had at the expense of their little brother. Though this wasn't exactly the younger Weasley's favorite form of bonding.
It all culminated, as it often does with young adults, in an evening of drunken debauchery. A particularly successful raid on a Death Eater gathering had resulted in a rather hefty supply of wizard spirits. The twins were, of course, the first to get their hands on it. Draco was staying at 12 Grimmauld Place for the night, an infrequent event, but Voldemort wasn't expecting him back for a while. Molly Weasley had ordered him to stay, take a few days off, and relax. Relaxing was not something Draco had done in eighteen months.
With the help of the twins, firewhiskey had cured that.
It was Granger that discovered their booze fest hidden away on the fourth floor of the old Black house. Draco had been in the middle of explaining how he'd never slept with Pansy, that their engagement was a trick the two friends developed to pull the wool over Voldemort's eyes. The twins were busy ignoring his protestations and whistling up a storm when Granger appeared.
"What on Earth is going on here?" she'd exclaimed from the doorway of the unused bedroom. "I heard a crash all the way outside." The three guilty parties looked up to see Hermione Granger looking resplendent in a pair of worn jeans and a Muggle t-shirt. Draco blinked his eyes heavily and refocused on Granger. She wasn't exactly resplendent, actually. The effect was slightly marred by the dirt and grass stains gracing her pants and the scratches up her arms. Her usual bush of hair was magnified to twice its normal size, even within in the confines of the ponytail she'd subdued it with.
"Oh that was just George falling on his arse. Moron completely deserves it for jumping on the bed like that," Fred shook his head while he sat on the fallen mattress. George was a few feet away charming the shards of glass into oblivion. "We should all be furious, he broke the bed and several bottles on his way down."
"What a horrible way to treat perfectly good liquor," Draco shook his head solemnly, but couldn't wipe the giant, drunken grin from his face. The alcohol was making his entire body feel wonderfully tingly, it was really quite pleasant. And had Granger always had a chest like that? Those were quite pleasant as well.
"Are you lot drunk?" Granger looked positively horrified as she watched the trio with her hands on her hips. Draco decided that those hips were anything but boyish, as he had previously believed.
"Oh no, Hermione," Fred shook his head.
"We're fucking smashed," George added with a shout, holding his bottle of wine up triumphantly.
"It's brilliant," Draco smiled.
"Well, let's have some then," she waved for Draco's bottle. The twins made flabbergasted, sputtering noises as the bushy-haired witch took a long swig of firewhiskey. After finishing, Granger made a nasty face and handed the bottle back to Draco. He decided that was the single sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his time on the planet Earth.
"That was brilliant, Hermione," Fred smiled appreciatively.
"What's this Granger?" Draco stared at her, wide-eyed. "You drink?" Granger ignored his waggling eyebrows and gave an irritated sigh.
"I've just de-gnomed the garden and eradicated the Doxies from the drawing room for the second time this week. By myself, I may add, because you lot were too busy killing brain cells to help," she ranted, alcohol and frustration turning her cheeks pink. "I think I deserve a drink."
"What about Ginny?" Fred asked.
"Ginny," Granger snapped and grabbed Draco's bottle again. "Is off snogging Harry, I believe." She handed the bottle back to him, but he motioned for her to keep it. Why ruin the moment?
"And Ron?" George prodded, probably hoping to set her off.
"Ronald headed for the hills the moment I mentioned the drawing room," Granger snarled and swallowed more firewhiskey. "I think he's off flying at the moment." With a sigh she plopped down onto the bed next to Draco, causing him and her chest to bounce slightly. He suddenly wished he had his bottle back.
"Fat lot of good that one is," George shook his head. Draco reached over slowly and slipped the firewhiskey from Granger's hands, his fingers skimming over hers. The scent of her hair, citrus with a hint of Doxycide, filled his nose.
"Too right," Fred agreed. Draco took a sip and shook his head slightly, trying to clear his senses, and handed it back to Granger. Her little half smile in return was spectacular. Alcohol and Granger made a fantastic combination.
"Although, flying does sound like a mighty bit of fun," George added slowly. The twins looked at each other in silence for a moment before springing to their feet.
"Right, off we go," Fred announced and began the drunken journey to the door, a stumbling George on his tail.
"Where are you two going?" Draco laughed.
"For a spin around town, dear Malfoy," George responded with a slight slur.
"Care to join us mate?" Fred asked as he clutched the doorframe.
"I don't think I could sit on a broom, let alone fly one right now," Draco shook his head, slightly distracted by the close proximity of Granger's thigh.
"Suit yourself," George shrugged, and then the twins were gone and Draco was left alone with Granger. Granger, who was nice to him despite his idiotic tendencies in their school days. Granger, who though Muggle-born was smarter and prettier than any girl he had met. Granger, who he'd grown strangely attached to since he joined the Order.
"Those two are hopeless," she laughed and shook her head. With her free hand she pulled out her ponytail holder and fell back against the mattress, the bottle of firewhiskey held loosely in her hand. The room was suddenly very hot. He hadn't thought it was possible for a girl to look so inviting while looking as though she'd rolled in dirt and smelling of pesticide.
He laughed amiably, though his voice caught for a moment in his dry throat, and twisted slightly to look at her. She smiled back at him before rubbing her eyes with her hand. "It's been a long day," she sighed. "Hell, it's been a long year." Draco nodded in response as he reached across her torso for the alcohol. His fingers felt the cool glass of the bottle, but he froze, not able to take his blurry vision off of the girl lying next to him on the bed. This was a vision he'd been having all too often, especially following their stimulating planning sessions.
"What?" Granger laughed and licked her lips. Draco swallowed heavily and opened his mouth to speak. The freckled witch bit her lower lip as she cocked her head to the side. "What is it Malfoy?"
"Could you be any more pretty?"
Firewhiskey really should be outlawed. It's just not right having wizards walking around with the Inhibition Switch in their brains turned off. But the girl was lying on the bed next to him, for crying out loud, how was he not supposed to say anything?
Draco quickly released the bottle from his grasp and faced across the room as Granger sat back up.
"You think I'm pretty?" she asked softly. Draco turned to see her smiling nervously, feeling self-conscious over something she should never doubt.
"Yeah, so?" Draco looked hopefully over at the door, willing the twins to make a grand entrance. But when Granger lifted her hand to his cheek and kissed him, he decided that was a far better option.
"Thank you," she breathed against his mouth. Draco lifted his trembling fingers to her hair and pulled her back for another kiss. Her lips were firm but gentle on his mouth, her tongue was velvety-smooth as it slid against his before retreating and returning in blissful repetition. Draco had never experienced anything like Hermione Granger's smooth neck as he nibbled his way down its length to taste the hollow of her collarbone. She caught his earlobe between her teeth and raked her nails down his back. Draco's eyes crossed in pleasure as he released a deep, guttural moan.
"Lie down," she whispered breathily into his ear. Draco held her face to his, not breaking the kiss as he lowered himself to the bedspread. Granger willingly followed suit, her breasts crushed against his chest, and straddled his waist. With her ass pressed along his growing arousal, Draco thought he just might be in heaven. Not stopping the kiss, never stopping the best kiss of his life, Draco dragged his hand down to squeeze her bum. She smiled against his lips and licked playfully at his teeth in response.
Holding her mouth to his with one hand, he slipped the other from her rear end to press it against the apex of her thighs. Granger's breath hitched and she broke the kiss, her eyes closed as she pressed back against his hand. He rubbed vigorously, working his fingers against her center, but the denim of her jeans was too thick for any worthwhile contact.
Frustrated, Draco wrapped an arm around her and rolled them until his body was centered between her open legs. His hands had only barely reached the button of her pants when Granger let out a squeal and started to writhe beneath him, trying to slip out from under his body.
"Malfoy, get off!" she shrieked, pushing his hands away.
"W-What?" Draco blinked. He tried to comprehend her actions, but with a mind clouded by desire and a body aching with arousal made it a little difficult.
"Wet," she squeaked and finally managed to sit up when Draco stood.
"I hope so," Draco frowned and started looking for something to cover his erection, suddenly completely embarrassed. "That's kind of the point."
"No," Granger rolled her eyes and laughed. "The bed." She pointed to the dark spot on the mattress next to the forgotten bottle of firewhiskey.
"Oh," Draco grinned nervously, not quite sure how to proceed. Granger was to busy inspecting the back of her shirt to take notice of his discomfort. With a shrug she stood and pulled it up over her head. Draco decided he agreed with the course of action and approached the girl with a low growl.
"Now, where were we?" the bushy-haired witch asked with a sly grin, her fingers playing around the zipper of her jeans. Draco happily pulled her back into a kiss as she proceeded to pull her pants down her hips. She kicked her trainers off with no problem, but hit a snag when it came to the socks. After regretfully pulling away she bent over to remove the offending items and made quick work of her jeans. Draco followed suit and suddenly found himself with an armful of barely-clad Gryffindor, breasts pressed delightfully close to his bare chest.
The couple tumbled back onto the broken bed, and landed with a grunt, neither expecting the longer journey. Granger laughed and covered his face with light kisses. Draco trailed the fingers of one hand down her ribcage and slipped them between their sweaty bodies, pressing against the wet heat of her center. Granger let out a curse he'd never heard her say as he slipped two fingers directly into her tunnel. She slowly extracted his hand from her underwear, but any disappointment he felt soon evaporated as she ground her pelvis heavily against his throbbing erection. The sight of the panting witch pulsating above him and the feel of her burning center pressed against him was nearly enough to send him over the edge.
Not willing to come in his own underwear, Draco grabbed her hips to stop their wanton movements. He kissed away Granger's frown and rolled them over again, praying Fred and George hadn't spilt anything on this bed. After freeing himself of his own undergarments Draco set to work on Granger's. She willingly lifted her hips to allow him room to pull off hers before dragging him back up for a hungry kiss. The freckled witch wrapped her legs around his waist as he sucked on her neck and settled between her thighs.
Draco sunk in about an inch, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by her, the bliss that was Hermione Granger. She sighed happily in his ear and rolled her hips up, inviting him another inch inside.
"Hermione? Draco?" Molly Weasley's voice echoed down the hallway. "It's time for dinner! Where are those two?" The heads of the two lovers snapped to the doorway. There it stood, wide open, inviting in anyone who wished to view the spectacle of spilt firewhiskey, strewn clothes, and former enemies locked in an intimate embrace on a broken bed.
They'd never moved so fast in their lives.
A naked Granger scrambled for the door, slamming and locking it in record time. Meanwhile Draco searched dumbly around the room for his underwear.
"We'll be right down!" Granger shouted quickly and started the search for her own undergarments. Both were breathing even more heavily once they were finally clothed. One look at each other had them falling apart in hysterics.
"What would she have said?" Granger managed to say between giggles.
"Probably to remember to wash up before we ate," Draco answered in his best deadpan. The bushy-haired witch bit her lip to hold back a louder laugh and set to tying her hair up. They fell into an amiable silence as they righted the mishaps the room had fallen victim to. Granger charmed away the alcohol stain, Draco fixed the bed with a wave of his wand, and then they both headed for the door. As Granger reached for the knob, Draco couldn't help but walk up behind her and pull her back against his enduring hard-on.
"We'll have to finish this later, you know," he groaned and bit softly at her neck.
"I was planning on it," she smiled and turned to kiss him quickly. "But first, dinner." Then she opened the door and stepped out.
"I'm off to the loo first," Draco smirked. "Unfinished business." Granger suppressed a giggle as they parted ways.
It was surprising how easy their relationship was. Neither had realized it, but their hearts had been starving for companionship during the brutal war. As soon as they found a welcoming embrace, neither could live without it. Draco had never been happier fighting against the man who blackmailed him beside the woman he grew to care quite deeply for.
But war hardens a man. It makes him bitter, angry, and suspicious. Draco was not built for it, especially after having a childhood warped by insecurities and prejudices. Too many battles, too much death, and too little hope made him weak. It made him an easy target for the manipulations of the Dark Lord. And Draco soon learnt that his heart was nothing compared to his capacity for hatred.
He'd run with the lies that Voldemort had spoon fed him. At first he was loathe to believe them, but the Dark Lord was cunning and smart and Draco needed someone to blame. The group he'd despised as a child, whom he had a rocky relationship at best with, had been the easiest target. And in his heart, he never believed that Hermione Granger could ever love him.
Now he stood poised at another crossroads and he knew he had to be a better person this time. He couldn't crawl back into the dark corner and ignore everything he had done, all the hurt he had caused. Draco knew he had to face his demons, so he turned and followed Hermione Granger into the stacks.
"I'm sorry," he stated when he finally spotted the witch. She was leaning against a bookshelf, wiping her puffy eyes with trembling fingers.
"I thought I told you to leave," she looked up at him, anger shimmering in her gaze.
"I'm so sorry," he repeated again, wishing all of the regret he felt, all the hatred he had for himself could be summarized and interpreted in that single phrase. There was no way he could ever explain what he had done or why he had done it.
"Just go," she frowned and placed a hand over the wand in her pocket. "Now."
"I'm so, so sorry," he said again, his voice hitching on a quiet sob. "Please, just know that."
"Sorry you got caught," she sneered. "Sorry your little pureblood factions couldn't stand up to a couple Mudbloods."
"No," Draco shook his head vehemently, frustrated with his own lack of eloquence. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. For betraying the Order, for the lying, for everything."
"You can't just take it back," she replied, her voice husky with fury and sorrow. "It's not that simple. You-."
"I was awful, I know. I was a sheep. I was blind. I was-."
"You can't expect-," she was shaking her head, ignoring his explanation.
"I can't explain what I did," Draco cut back in, knowing he had to say something before he lost his nerve. "There's no way to make right what happened. I'll never be able to apologize enough."
"So, go," she said through clenched teeth. "Just go."
"I can't ask your forgiveness. But you need to know I am sorry for hurting you," he paused and took a deep breath. Meanwhile she was watching him with a heavily guarded expression. "But mostly I'm sorry for a very selfish reason."
"And, pray tell, what is that?" she scoffed and crossed her arms defiantly across her chest.
"I'm sorry that I lost you."
Her lips tightened, forming a thin white line across her face. Draco swallowed and watched her, gauging for any sort of reaction, but there was none. She stood frozen to the spot, hard brown eyes boring into his chest.
"I love you, Hermione Granger."
He saw her body shudder as a tear traced a path down each flushed cheek, but she didn't move. Even though he had known going in there was no chance for redemption, it still felt as though his chest was in a vice. He could hardly breathe as he turned away; a low hollow feeling sitting in his stomach. Draco started his slow, defeated journey back out into the icy cold winter.
"I love you, too."
fin.