Daybreak streaked through the slivered curtains onto the comforter with Hermione curled blissfully underneath. From the ray's intensity, she knew it must already be past time for her to get up. Time for her to leave the warmth of the sheets. Time for her to face the day. But Hermione found no strength in her muscles to do that. Every cell, molecule, and atom wanted nothing more than to stay right here. Five more minutes, ten, the whole morning.
Despite having fallen asleep in her clothes, last night had been the most restful slumber she could recall in recent memory—and the strong arms currently wrapped around her torso only made a more compelling argument for her not to move a single inch. After all, Sir Isaac Newton himself had proclaimed that an object at rest shall stay at rest unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. And who was Hermione to go against physics?
Their legs rested intertwined, two limbs having found each other in the middle of the night. Hermione relished the stillness. With her eyes closed and her mind at ease, she could lose herself in the heat of his chest flush against her back, the soft dance of her curls under his steady exhales, the gentle strokes of his fingertips beneath her shirt and along her waist.
After Draco had walked her back to the Dennfyre last night, it hadn't taken long for his soft kiss goodnight to turn into a deep entanglement of lips and a silent, mutual refusal to stop. Arms draped over his shoulders, fingers digging into her skin, back slammed against the door frame, the wall, the mattress.
Five nights. All they had were five nights before Hermione couldn't avoid England any longer. But that also meant five more opportunities to capitalise on the days, hours, minutes that they did have left together. To not let go. To keep kissing, keep touching, keep exploring, until the exhaustion of the day laid claim to their bodies and Hermione fell asleep in his embrace.
It had been a perfect night's sleep. And judging by the firm arousal evidenced from the wizard behind her, neither of them minded waking up this way.
A single kiss settled on the exposed skin of her shoulder and Hermione hummed at the morning's greeting. She could get used to this.
Well, as used to something as someone could get in five nights. Four mornings.
Hermione shoved aside that thought and tried to slip back into their bubble of contentment, but already it was punctured. As much as she was tempted to lay in bed with Draco all day, that wasn't the reason she had stayed. And he had a job to do.
"We better get to the sanctuary before breakfast ends," she said, but a satisfied sigh betrayed her final words when Draco pressed his lips to the sensitive skin at the crook of her neck. Just below her jaw. Right behind her ear.
"Or we could order room service."
The bubble slipped back over her psyche.
That. Hermione preferred that plan.
Draco reached across the bed and retrieved a menu from the nightstand drawer. He didn't even spare it a glance before handing it to Hermione.
"Get whatever you want. It's on me."
Hermione dropped the menu. Apparently, it was never too early to argue with him.
"Breakfast is on me, Draco," she plainly returned. "It's the least I can do after how much you went through to pay Mundungus. Besides, room service will automatically add to my room bill."
"Which Marjorie isn't charging you since you're a guest of the sanctuary."
"All the more reason for me to pay for breakfast."
"Or for this weekend to continue being our treat."
"You did more than enough with those treats the other night."
"All I did was bring them—"
"Marjorie told me."
After a fractionary second of surprise, a smile cracked the edges of Draco's lips. "Should have known that witch wouldn't have been able to keep her mouth shut. Would have been a certain Hufflepuff had she gone to Hogwarts."
Hermione couldn't resist lifting an eyebrow. "And would that have been a bad thing?"
He shrugged. "I suppose some Hufflepuffs can have their days."
Recalling what Harry had once told her Draco said upon their very first meeting, Hermione presumed that was as close to a compliment as he would ever give the house.
But that wasn't the point of this conversation.
With a quick glance at the dessert boxes still on the desk, Hermione bit the inside of her lip, already feeling a smile coming on. "Thank you for the treats. They really did make my night sweeter."
"Then they served their purpose."
Stomach growling, Hermione resolved to leave their debate about payment for later and retrieved the menu to make her selection, happy to let Draco give her a rundown of all his favourites before they ended up ordering more than a third of the options. Less than fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door, to which Hermione opened it to discover a familiar face with a knowing glint in her expression.
"This is quite a lot of food for one person."
Hermione fought hard to prevent a blush from rising. Of course Marjorie would make sure to personally deliver their food.
"Being at the sanctuary works up quite the appetite," Hermione made a half-effort to explain.
But to little surprise, Marjorie saw straight through her partial truth. "In that case, you won't be needing this second set of silverware?"
Quick mental debate warred inside Hermione at whether it was worth casting another Duplication Charm to avoid the admission Marjorie so clearly suspected, but she had nothing to hide. Especially from the witch who had made Hermione come to terms with the emotions she'd been refusing to consider until last night.
"It might be necessary."
The shine in Marjorie's gaze flared brighter, but Hermione didn't have long to look at it before a hand on her waist sent tingled nerves down her spine. Draco's sudden presence distracted her just long enough to prevent Hermione from stopping his exchange of coins into the innkeeper's hand.
"Thanks, Marjorie. It all looks delicious."
Draco had already closed the door and levitated the food onto the centre of the bed by the time Hermione planted her arms across her chest and gave him a scowl.
"I told you I was paying for that."
"And I told you that it was on me," he said, walking straight past the dragonhide pouch with glints of silver and gold coins peeking out from its opening. "Figured I might as well get a couple extra hundred galleons from Mother while I was visiting." Strong arms slinked around her waist before Draco landed a single kiss in her hair. "And she'd never forgive me if word got back to her that her son didn't pay the bill on a first date."
Hermione's heart leapt to her throat as she rotated in his hold to face the proud smirk of victory pulling the edges of his lips. Any urge to combat him further instantly melted. Damn his cunning ways to know precisely how to get her to submit to him.
Less than two minutes later, a spread of strawberry banana filled pancakes, three types of omelettes, roasted potatoes, assorted pastries, and fresh fruit laid between them on the comforter, along with their pair of four-pronged forks: the finest luxury of them all.
Hermione speared a piece of pineapple and set it on her plate. "So assuming that this is a date"—Draco quirked an eyebrow—"does this mean I get to ask you whatever question I want?"
He sliced off a portion of pancake. "Assuming?"
"Well I don't recall you ever actually asking me out."
"Oh, my mistake. Was my incessant need to kiss you last night not sufficient? Because I can do it again if my intentions weren't clear enough."
Merlin, the way he was smirking at her right now made Hermione want to forget about the meal completely and press his lips back onto hers until they were once again intertwined beneath the covers. But as per usual, her curiosity overpowered all other feelings.
"The first night I got here… Why get those forks for me and Charlie?"
His answer was automatic. "Simple. I told him I'd be civil and that felt like the easiest way to keep my word without actually having to speak with you."
"Yet you still couldn't resist being snarky with me the moment I sat down?"
A grin teased the corners of his mouth. "I only have so much self-control."
Hermione shot him a half-critical, half-amused glare. It wasn't as if she had actually expected a serious response. The follow-up question had been a tease in its own regard. Though her questions weren't quite done yet.
"And if acquiring four-prong forks is so notoriously difficult, then how did you manage to get three of them?" He parted his lips to speak, but before he could quip out another retort, Hermione continued, "And I expect the real explanation this time."
Draco paused, considered, tapped his fork against the plate three times, and then, finally, a response. "Walker approached me the other week and we established a deal. He promised me ten four-pronged forks whenever I wanted in exchange for me helping him pass the trainee entry test."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "The test is that hard?"
"It is when you're a Squib."
Her mouth dropped. "I didn't know—"
"Neither magical ancestry nor ability should determine the worth of a person, right, Granger?" Draco cooly intoned. "Just because Walker can't do the magic doesn't mean he can't be involved with the dragons in other ways if he wants to expand his role at the sanctuary beyond silverware duty."
Hermione made no attempt to hide the smile that quickly overtook her features. Just when she thought she had this wizard figured out, he found a new way to surprise her.
Draco leaned forward, intrigue heightened. "And now that you know my secret, it's time to confess yours. I've never known Walker to give anyone else another fork. So how in Merlin's name did you manage to get an extra?"
"Simple," Hermione teased this time, smile turned to boasting. "I used Geminio."
Draco gaped in disbelief. "Ge— You charmed a second one?"
The sincere shock on his face sent Hermione into giggles. "I can't believe that isn't a more regular practice among the trainers."
"Because that spell is extremely volatile and said ever so infinitesimally incorrect, it morphs into the cursed variation with disastrous effects!"
"Trust me, I'm well aware," Hermione said through a snort, memory still clear of how his aunt had used that version for her own wicked intention. "But I have no doubt you'd be able to master it with enough charm work. You do, after all, have a very effective Protean Charm."
"Flattery will get you nowhere in this," Draco returned, though his slight rise in confidence was measurable nonetheless. "Back to the point, Granger. A Duplication Charm? Really? Doesn't that feel like cheating?"
"And making deals with Walker isn't?"
"Ahh, but that's where you're wrong," Draco quipped. "That's using my Slytherin charm, not an actual charm."
Hermione rolled her eyes, yet a laugh broke free regardless. "You're terrible."
"Yet I somehow get the feeling you like me anyway."
Founders save her. Yes, yes she truly did.
All that remained on the plates were crumbs by the time they were finished with breakfast, each bite just as tasty as the last, even if Hermione was now almost unbearably full. It was a simple start to the morning. A peaceful one. And one Hermione wished could have lasted longer. But they had already exceeded their normally allotted breakfast time and Draco had hungry dragons that were waiting for their turn to eat. Hermione told Draco that he should leave without her, yet Draco once again refused to listen and insisted that they return together.
"How else do you plan to get back into the sanctuary?"
Hermione hated when he made a valid point. But she didn't hate an excuse for them to spend more time together.
It didn't take long for Hermione to get ready, though she admittedly would have done more than some cursory Freshen Up Charms if Draco hadn't been waiting for her. As she fashioned her hair into a plait, Hermione's eyes skirted to the unused shower, sparing herself no more than two seconds to wonder what it would have been like if she'd had time to shower. If they'd had time to shower.
Heat rushed to her cheeks at the thought, remembering precisely how Draco had looked the other morning post-shower. Damp, long blond hair, with pebbled water stretched across his chest and his tattooed covered arms…
Hermione pulled herself from her thoughts before they spiralled any deeper. Imagining it was risky if there was no guarantee she'd get to see it again.
When Hermione exited the bathroom, those thoughts dropped from her mind when she spotted Draco holding the framed photograph she had placed on the nightstand.
At the sound of the door closing, Draco turned to face her, but he didn't set the picture down. Instead, he returned his attention to it, staring at the unmoving figures.
"You look just like them," Draco said as Hermione came up beside him.
The picture was over fifteen years old—from a time before neither she nor her parents knew that magic was more than something Hermione had read about in books. They had spent the day at the London Zoo and Hermione's smile was as bright as the summer sun as she had spent all day marvelling over all the animals she had seen up close. It was her first memory of being so enamoured by living creatures, before she was exposed to a whole new genus of magical beasts.
Hermione took the photograph and plopped down onto the edge of the bed, Draco soon by her side.
"It's funny," she said, brushing a finger over her mother's broad smile and her father's curly hair. "Throughout Hogwarts, everyone would comment on how remarkable it was that Harry had his mother's eyes when we all take distinctive traits from our parents, be that physical or internal. Some for better, others for worse. But even with what we inherit, we're still our own, unique individuals and it's what we do with those traits that matter."
She could see the conflict behind Draco's eyes: the internal questions that undoubtedly flashed through his mind about the traits he inherited from his own parents—beyond the trademark blond hair. His ambition and family loyalty. His haughty pride and his unwavering desire for self-preservation. The good, the bad, the somewhere in between. Draco was a mix of it all. But as she looked at him now, it was only the good that she could see, outshining everything in their past. Yet that didn't mean they could forget, no matter how difficult those memories were to face.
She breathed in deep and peered back down at the photograph, unable to look at Draco when she told him.
"I Obliviated my parents' during the war. Erased every memory that they were parents. That I existed. Just in case— In case the Death Eaters came looking for them." Another long inhale. Another avoidance of eye contact. "When the war ended… I had nowhere to go home to. So I went to The Burrow while I waited for the Obliviation Team at St Mungo's to hopefully recover their memories. The same summer Charlie and I got so close."
The frame teetered as she returned it to its place, only for Hermione to pick up the only other item on the nightstand. The green ribbon twisted through her fingers. A distraction, a fidget, a comfort.
"Did they get them back?"
Hermione managed a nod. "Eventually. Took nearly four months to reverse everything I had done, but they're alright now."
"But that never should have been something you felt necessary to do." His voice was weak. Broken. He slipped the green ribbon out from between Hermione's fingers and her heart froze as she tore her trance upward to meet his pewter stare, a cloud of regret turning them murky. "A thousand apologies will never be enough."
"Draco, you don't need to—"
"Yes, I do." Strength returned to his words. "I can't keep pretending like the war is something that didn't happen."
The green ribbon remained draped over his palm as he reached out for Hermione's hands, clasping them tightly. Her chest seized at equal rate.
"My final year of Hogwarts—the last complete one, at least—I spent that entire time in a trance. For years, I had believed that this was what I wanted. A school rid of Muggleborns and with purebloods finally getting the respect we deserved. Or rather, the respect that my father trained me to believe we were worthy of because of a prejudiced assumption that some wizarding families were better than others. And for so long, I strutted around Hogwarts like the arrogant prat that I was, treating you horribly without a moment's remorse."
"Draco—"
"Let me finish."
A slight crack revealed at the end of his words, but he swallowed it away. Hermione listened, transfixed.
"But then that year came. With my skin tainted with a mark I already regretted and the feeling that I had no choice but to keep following the path I had been all but forced to take, constantly wondering how things would have been different if Dumbledore had lived long enough to hide me and my family away like he offered."
His hands trembled as he spoke, but neither one of them let go.
"I spent countless, sleepless nights staring at the ceiling. Reliving the horrors I had already witnessed, imagining what horrible things I'd still have to endure before the war ended—not certain anymore which side I wanted to prove victorious. But never in my worst nightmares did I imagine that I'd come face to face with the three of you in my own home. To have my father try to make me condemn my own classmates. To stand there paralysed as you were tortured before my very eyes."
His vision clamped closed. "I knew then that every toxic thought I'd ever had about you was wrong. That you didn't deserve my jeers, my taunts, my insistence on calling you that derogatory word—even if my pride prevented me from ever saying that to your face once we returned to Hogwarts as the equals we always were."
It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Still. Silent. Hermione wasn't even sure she was breathing anymore. She knew Draco was sorry for what had happened during the war. Sorry for what he had said and done to her. She wouldn't be sitting with him right now if she had any doubt that part of this was untrue. But to have him vocalise it, to hear the raw sincerity in his voice, to feel the urgency in his hold, hit her in a way Hermione never expected.
"It's still there, isn't it?"
He didn't need to clarify what "it" was to know exactly what Draco was asking.
Extricating her fingers from his, Hermione retrieved her wand and removed the Glamour she had over her forearm, seeing the scar for herself for the first time in ages. Eight angry red letters, forever engraved in her skin.
Draco stiffened. "I should have done something."
"You couldn't have stopped her."
"I should have tried."
The words hung in the air, and Hermione didn't argue any further. Draco was sorry for what he had done—and for what he hadn't done, either. That's all that truly mattered now.
Slinking the green ribbon back between his fingers, Draco wove it behind her plait and reformed the bow at its end.
"I'll make it up to you," he vowed, every word laced with resolve. "I promise."
Hermione didn't need him to make it up to her. She wasn't convinced there even was anything he could do to make it up to her. But if that promise helped Draco forgive himself like she already had, then she'd let him voice those words again and again until his throat ran dry.
...
By the time they eventually made it to the sanctuary, Draco and Hermione's absence was surely noted. The visitor's section was near-devoid of keepers except for the few wizards tending to the goats in their pens and—just her and Draco's luck—Charlie working with a group of trainees. Even from a distance, Hermione could see Charlie's raised ginger eyebrow when she and Draco came into sight. Charlie may have been able to keep Julia a secret for several months, but she and Draco had barely lasted a few hours.
Draco left to tend to the Ridgebacks and Hermione made towards Charlie next to a life-sized charmed replica of a Welsh Green. The trainees were busy practising spell recitations with partners when she stopped beside Charlie.
An instant smirk pulled the edges of his lips. "Let me guess. You wanted to show Draco your book collection?"
Hermione knocked him in the shoulder and they both laughed.
"Shut up, Charlie."
Charlie's laughter didn't dwindle. "That's all you have to say?"
"What do you expect? A detailed play by play?" She huffed. "Not going to happen."
"No?" Charlie lifted another eyebrow before his tone turned slightly more serious. "Then how about you just explain what you two were doing on the grounds so late last night?"
Hermione's eyes widened. "How did you—"
"The location of the dragons isn't the only enchanted map we have here."
"But Draco never mentioned that!"
"Draco doesn't know," he retorted simply. Charlie reached into his pocket and revealed a sliver of parchment. "I made this version Friday when we amplified security. Only the people on the night patrol know it exists. So you're lucky Markus was the one awake with the map while Llewellyn and Aurel were resting. Could have been messy for you and Draco otherwise."
Heat pricked Hermione's cheeks. "We weren't doing anything bad."
"I know that and Markus knows that, but it's best not to give anyone a reason to suspect otherwise," Charlie stated, nothing but sincere concern in his tone. "So just… don't do anything stupid. Alright, Hermione?"
He wouldn't relent until Hermione gave him her word, though Charlie never defined 'stupid.' From Hermione's perspective, that still gave her every right to continue doing whatever she deemed justifiable with Draco.
Seemingly appeased, Charlie went to guide the trainees in their spellwork. Again and again, wisps of faint blue trailed from the various wizards' wands, none of them yet capable of successfully casting what Hermione recognised as failed Diagnostic Charms. She'd also continue to keep it to herself that Draco had successfully taught her how to cast that spell in no longer than half an hour. That information didn't help anyone right now—though it did make her internally beam.
When the trainees seemed to be making sufficient progress, Charlie returned to her side, assessing her with a partially concerned gaze. "Cause I realise I might have been unclear earlier, I don't think you and Draco being together is stupid. I'm happy for you two. Truly."
The heat in Hermione's cheeks returned. "Of course I didn't think that, Charlie, but it's nothing serious between us," she dismissed, ignoring the flutter behind her ribcage. "We only kissed."
"And slept over."
"Fully clothed."
"But would you have wanted more if circumstances were different?"
The question struck Hermione like a Bludger to the gut. What did the answer matter if the circumstances were the way that they were? Regardless of what happened last night or could happen the remainder of the week, she and Draco still lived in different countries. That wasn't changing.
Yet before she had to formulate an actual response, a crack split the air and Draco reappeared in front of them, his face stern and eyes dark. Hermione's chest immediately tightened.
His gaze landed directly on Charlie.
"Alert Doru and Llewelyn. I detected the first pip on three of Norberta's eggs."
Normally, this would be good news. An egg starting to pip meant that the baby would likely hatch within the day. And if three of Norberta's eggs were already pipping, that meant the rest of them would be hatching soon as well. Which ultimately meant one thing: their time was running out.
Less than a minute passed before Charlie had already dismissed the trainees and Disapparated to find the head keepers. As soon as it was just the two of them, Hermione closed the space between her and Draco, asking the only question on her mind.
"Are you okay?"
Draco looked away.
No answer.
He stared off into the distance, but Hermione cupped her palm against his cheek and made him face her.
"We're not giving up," she promised, needing him not to spiral, not to blame himself like she knew him so capable of doing. Hope wasn't lost. Not yet.
His muscles were tight, amplifying her fears, but a trickle of relief dripped through her when his jaw relaxed and he rested his hand on top of hers.
"I know we aren't. I know."
With a single kiss to her forehead, the last of her worries slipped from consciousness. She and Draco were in this together, no matter what happened next.