With one hand around the flowers, the other twined with his, Hermione walked with Draco towards where Charlie and Julia approached from the opposite side of the cabins.
Charlie greeted them with a confused expression. "I thought we were meeting at the Dennfyre."
"I forgot something in my cabin," Draco replied, motioning to the bouquet of lilies.
"Wow, way to make a bloke look bad," Charlie joked. "Damn, Julia, think you can still date me?"
Julia let out a snicker. "I don't know. Not giving me flowers on a last minute double date might be a deal breaker."
"Guess I'll have to find a way to make up for it."
Charlie conjured a small bag of chocolate chips, and Julia broke into instant laughter. She ripped open one end and popped a handful into her mouth. Charlie grinned, Draco snorted, and Hermione watched with confusion, clearly having missed something.
"On our first date, Charlie took me to the ice cream parlour in Verdell, only to learn when we arrived that I'm lactose intolerant."
"I wanted it to be a surprise!"
"A surprise that utterly failed when the parlour didn't have any non-dairy alternatives." Julia cast a Sealing Charm on the bag and put it in her hip pouch. "So while Charlie enjoyed his ice cream, I ate a bowl of plain chocolate chips."
Charlie threw his hands up in defence. "I offered to take us somewhere else!"
"Yes, but I insisted we didn't need to." Julia lowered Charlie's hand and linked it with hers. "I was just happy he had finally asked me out."
Memory of the early days of their relationship seemed to light up Julia's presence, a jubilant radiance basking over her as they began walking towards the sanctuary's entrance. Hermione desperately wanted to believe that what she was witnessing was real. Surely this relationship couldn't be a complete farce. Happiness like that couldn't be entirely faked. Right?
Her youth had taught her that even the most reliable of figures could still be menaces. Quirrell had presented himself as an anxious mess, while Professor Moody had proven not to be Moody at all. Both had played their roles convincingly. As much as Hermione didn't want it to be true, there was no reason to suspect Julia couldn't be putting on a similar act.
The unnerving thoughts coiled like unwelcome serpents. On the surface, Hermione remained unperturbed. Tonight, it was her turn to put on a show.
Streams of other dragon keepers joined them on the path away from the cabins and towards the mess hall. They were nearing the split to take them to the sanctuary's exit when Doru crossed their path.
"Ahh, my key keepers of the day! How are you enjoying the day off?"
"Slept," Charlie answered simply.
"As well you should." Doru turned to Draco and Hermione. "And you two?"
Hermione clasped her hand with Draco's. "Just enjoyed our time in Verdell."
"We're actually heading to the Dennfyre for dinner," Charlie supplied. "Care to join us later? Tavian would love to see you."
Hermione perked at the prospect. This was exactly what they needed to make her and Draco's mission for the night more feasible. Doru, however, quickly declined.
"'Fraid I can't tonight. Llewellyn had to go to the Wales Sanctuary to meet with their senior dragon keeper about the transfer, so I'm stuck with patrol again."
Julia's lips thinned. "Didn't you do it last night too?"
"Yes, but someone has to do it."
"Julia and I can cover if—"
"No, I've got it," Doru said before Charlie could finish his offer. He gave Charlie a lingering pat on the back. "You've been working hard enough without officially being on leadership. Go enjoy your night! And give Tavian and Marjorie my best."
When they Apparated into Verdell, Hermione and Draco took longer to settle themselves so Charlie and Julia got a several pace head start.
"What's going on in your head?" Draco asked when she lingered even longer than him.
Knots reformed in Hermione's stomach like Devil's Snare around its victim. A million thoughts were on her mind, but how was that any different than usual? Yet as Hermione watched Charlie and Julia laugh and smile down the cobbled path, a small spike of jealousy pricked her senses.
She took a fortifying breath and let the admission roll off her tongue. "I wish we could treat this like a normal date, but we can't lose sight of our real goal of the night."
"Can't we do both?"
There was a hopeful lilt in his voice, one that Draco hadn't cared to mask. Their days were limited on more than one front. Tonight could be their only chance to get something out of Tavian—but it was also one of the few nights that she and Draco could afford any semblance of a night out together. If tonight was all they had, they'd have to find a balance.
The usual crowd of collective guests filled the Dennfyre. Hermione went to her room to place the flowers in a conjured vase then joined everyone else downstairs. When she took the seat next to Draco, there was nothing special about it. Sure, there was a slight leap in her heart when his hand instantly settled onto her knee. But that was away from the view of anyone else. With Charlie and Julia a firm couple, of course that meant Hermione and Draco would take the two remaining adjacent seats. And yet, the second Hermione sat down, Marjorie gazed at her from across the bar with a knowing smile.
Dinner was almost, almost what one could consider a typical double date. There was a comfortable ease between the four of them—at least on the surface. Questions still filtered through Hermione's mind about the standing between Charlie and Julia after their fight, but no tension revealed itself. Julia was back to her typical relaxed self. Recounting stories about her and her younger siblings. Laughing about a time earlier that day when a dragon had tried to nip off her thin gold bracelet during afternoon feeding. Telling Hermione about how her interest in Dragon Keeping had sparked as a spectator of the Triwizard Tournament, only to eventually date the same attractive wizard who had caught her eye from across the crowd.
"I still can't believe you remembered me from that."
"Sounds perfectly believable to me," Draco chimed in. "Have you looked in a mirror? I've been trying to get that red hair out of my memory for the past ten years, yet I fear it's permanently stuck."
The table chorused in laughter, but Hermione's mind stayed fixated on all the tidbits Hermione was learning about Julia. Julia was the oldest in her family. Julia had a gold bracelet. Julia didn't want to be a dragon keeper until late in her schooling. Were these irrelevant details or could they mean something? Hints disguised in the tales of passing anecdotes?
The night was intended to get information out of Tavian. A facade of a date without ulterior motives. Yet it also served as a means to potentially uncover more about Julia.
Could she really be the insider betraying the dragons?
Even in the midst of all her mental speculation, Hermione couldn't forget the wizard seated next to her and the stir inside her chest each time she passed a glance in his direction.
The night served so many purposes, but her favourite one was the fact that despite pretences, tonight remained a date. A date between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.
A week ago, that thought would have been laughable. She hadn't seen or heard of the wizard since halfway through their final year at Hogwarts. An individual she thought was locked away in her past, irrelevant and irredeemable. Now, it was hard to imagine that soon, he'd be out of her life again—only this time, she'd be worse for it.
Not only had Draco surprised her with how much he had changed, he had also reminded Hermione of her lost pieces. The drive that had been squashed by the repeated bureaucratic bullshit that prevented her from making the difference she craved. The passion she felt beyond the suffocating walls of towering Ministry paperwork. She didn't want to lose that; there was still more to be gained by being with him. And what about Draco? He had just started to accept that keeping the past trapped like a Snitch inside its cage wasn't doing him any favours. What would happen when Hermione left? Would she go back to being a miserable Ministry drone? Would Draco revert to the seclusion he accepted?
Hermione peered at her partially eaten dinner, a portion of Draco's Pleșcoi sausage still resting on the lip of the plate for her to try. She set down her fork and knife, heart constricting at a thought.
"I don't want this week to end."
The words came out no louder than a whisper, intended only for Draco to hear while Charlie and Julia discussed something else.
He grazed his hand up her thigh and interlocked their fingers.
"You know"—his gaze locked on their conjoined hands—"this doesn't have to end when the week does."
He pulled his gaze upward, and Hermione's heart stuttered. Logically, she knew that was true, had always known that, technically, nothing between them had to be temporary, but, logistically, it didn't make sense. She'd already done long distance with Ron when she'd gone back to Hogwarts and he'd gone straight into Auror training. Even after years of emotional build up and a summer together, the distance had still been trying. How could she and Draco expect something more to develop when all they had was a week of passing moments crammed between investigations?
Her heart stung. She didn't want to lose whatever this was, whatever it could become, but at the same time, she had to be realistic.
She squeezed her hand inside Draco's grip. It was all she could do without expressing the thoughts that toiled inside her.
The meal was mostly done when the perfect excuse arose to set their true purpose of the night into action. The older wizard appeared from upstairs and joined Marjorie behind the bar. Draco quickly seized the moment.
"Tavian's here. I'll go get him so we can say hello to him for Doru."
Charlie offered to do it himself, but Draco insisted. They couldn't let Charlie get sucked into a conversation with Tavian without Hermione and Draco present. And they needed to make sure that the conversation steered the way they needed.
Draco headed to the bar and Julia dismissed herself to use the bathroom, leaving Charlie and Hermione alone for the first time in what felt like days. Charlie assessed her with an immediate lift of his brow.
"So, at what point are you going to tell me the reason for this double date?"
Hermione's whole face flushed. Fuck. She wasn't expecting that. Her eyes skitted to the bar where Draco spoke with Tavian and Marjorie. She didn't have long until he returned.
"After the births this morning, I thought it was necessary for us all to get our minds off the missing egg," she said, hoping Charlie would buy the thinly veiled explanation.
He didn't.
"C'mon, Hermione," he pressed. "I can tell when you're hiding something."
She wanted to snap back that he hid Julia from her for months and who knew what Julia was hiding from all of them, but Hermione held her tongue. Now was not a time to let quips get the best of her. She had to be tactical.
She drew in a breath, and let (part) of the truth come out. "I overheard you and Julia fighting the other night."
Charlie startled. "I thought you went back to the Dennfyre after leaving dinner early."
"I was going to, but then I stopped by Draco's cabin hoping he'd be there."
She felt bad lying to Charlie, but most of what she was saying was true.
He paused for a few seconds and took a breath for himself. "I don't know what you heard, but this week has been extremely stressful for all of us. None of us want to see the dragons hurt and just want to keep them safe. The night patrol is my way of doing my part."
"Didn't sound like Julia was too happy about it," Hermione said with as even of a tone as she could manage.
Charlie frowned. "There's a lot you still don't know about her. Or the sanctuary."
"Charlie, my boy!"
The boisterous cry cut the conversation short as Charlie greeted Tavian with a hug. Wrinkles lined Tavian's aging skin, but the deep scar seared across his cheek remained just as visible up close as it had been the first time Hermione met the wizard.
"You remember Hermione?" Charlie asked. "She was here with us the other night, too."
Draco brought over a nearby chair and Tavian joined them at the end of the table. "Ah, yes. I'm afraid we didn't get to speak much."
"It's nice to see you again, sir," Hermione said. "I've heard a lot about you from Charlie and Draco."
Tavian gave Draco a short glance, but any ill will he might have harboured towards Draco due to his murky past was disguised when Julia returned.
"Worked at the sanctuary for fifty years before I retired," Tavian said with a longful expression. "Doru and I joined the sanctuary together when it opened."
"In 1946, right? Harvey Ridgbit founded the sanctuary shortly after Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and the international magical community needed a new place to house the dragons Grindelwald had coerced into his command, as well as protect other dragons."
"Ah, the witch knows her history!"
"I've read The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore more times than any human being ever should," Hermione lightly explained. "Do you miss it?"
"Fifty years provided me with more than enough memories to keep me happy," Tavian said. "Although, I must say that days like today are the ones I miss most. Draco told me that the eggs hatched?"
Hermione inwardly grinned. Just the segue they needed.
"Shame about the seventh egg." Tavian's demeanour shifted to a frown. "Doru told me what happened."
Hermione flicked her gaze to Julia, but her expression didn't flinch. Draco, however, appeared to have different thoughts.
His gaze cut straight to Charlie. "I thought Doru said that happenings at the sanctuary were to remain internal."
"Even the heads of organisations need advice sometimes," Tavian swiftly defended his friend. "Doru worked under me as assistant senior dragon keeper for years before I retired, and he witnessed firsthand the shit I had to deal with from the Romanian government."
"Like what?" Hermione piped up.
Tavian huffed. "That whole Triwizard Tournament business for one. I would have stayed at the sanctuary a few more years if that nightmare hadn't coerced me into retirement. Without the money Marj brings in here, I never would have survived on my own."
"And what else has Doru told you?" Draco pushed.
"Not much," Tavian said with a shrug. "Just that the Aurors are still refusing to investigate."
Julia whipped her focus to Charlie. "They're not investigating?"
Charlie ran his hands down his face, softly groaning, "We weren't supposed to tell anyone."
Julia stared at him in disbelief, but Hermione couldn't let her focus slip. Not when they were so close.
"Surely you must have a theory as to who could be responsible?"
It was a risky question to ask in front of Julia, but it had to be asked. Julia might even interpret the question to mean Hermione and Draco didn't suspect her. A win-win in that case.
Hermione held her breath when Tavian stared her straight in the eyes. "Have you heard of the Seven Brothers?"
Julia flinched. "Surely you aren't suggesting the Seven Brothers are back."
Tavian let out an unearnest laugh. "The Seven Brothers are never gone. Just buying their time until they can strike again." A disgusted sneer twisted his face. "Selfish, greedy bastards. Once you've joined, the only brotherly bonds that matter are the ones forged to each other."
Hermione gripped Draco's thigh. They had to tread carefully.
"Maybe we shouldn't—"
"What do the Seven Brothers want?" Hermione asked before Charlie could kill the conversation.
"Whatever brings them money and power." Tavian folded his arms across his chest. "My own brother Anton was dumb enough to fall into their ways. Started off saying it was temporary. A way to earn some extra money on the side." A scoff. "But there's no leaving the Seven Brothers. Soon enough, he and a pair of equally heartless crooks tried to use me to get access to the sanctuary. I told them they'd have to get through me if they wanted to get to the dragons." Tavian motioned to his scar. "And they damn well tried."
"There's no proof the Seven Brothers are back," Charlie interjected, but Tavian waved him off.
"Saw them for myself just last night. Marcier and Ardelean. Right outside my own window."
Hermione had to swallow a gasp. Names. They now had names.
"They'd be stupid to do something again," Julia said. "After finally getting sentenced for trading all those Dark artefacts, they should consider themselves lucky that they ever got out of Rockhold."
Draco deadpanned. "Or maybe they don't intend to get caught again."
Tension thickened around the table, only alleviated when Charlie cut in.
"Look, we're all doing our best to protect the dragons from future attacks, be that from the Seven Brothers or whoever else is responsible. Right now, though, we have no helpful evidence. So can we just drop this?"
There was a finality in his tone that rendered that question rhetorical. Julia put a hand on Charlie's shoulder and pushed out of her chair.
"It's late. We should start heading back to the sanctuary anyway."
Tavian wished them a good night while Julia collected her and Charlie's cloaks. Charlie first nodded at Draco in parting then enveloped Hermione in a hug.
"I promise Julia and I are just fine," he whispered. "And you and Draco?" He pulled away, eyebrow lifted.
Hermione bit the bottom of her lip, looking over at Draco with a blushing smile. "We're good. Promise."
Yet as the words left her lips, something felt wrong.
As good as they can be, Hermione almosted amended, no matter how much it pained her to admit, if only to herself. Nothing had been resolved about the fact that this could be the only date she and Draco ever got with each other.
Charlie searched her face, no doubt sensing that there was more she wasn't saying. But when Hermione offered nothing additional, Charlie shifted his attention to Draco. "Be good to my little sis."
"I have no desire to be anything but."
Draco and Hermione took a little longer than Charlie and Julia to leave the table, surprised when when Marjorie arrived with a slice of chocolate cake.
"Oh, we didn't order this," Hermione said when Marjorie placed the cake on the nearly vacant table.
Marjorie winked. "It's on the house."
Hermione looked at Draco who looked at the cake and smirked. "Well, we can't let a perfectly good cake go to waste, can we?"
He claimed the empty seat across from where Hermione had sat and motioned for her to return to her chair. The number of patrons at the Dennfyre had started to slim and at the growing night hour, the firelight was dimmed to a dull glow. Hermione looked back at the bar where Marjorie was gesturing impatiently for Hermione to stop stalling and just take the bloody seat. Or at least, that's what she imagined Marjorie was mouthing.
Hermione pressed her lips together and a flutter filled her chest. With Charlie and Julia gone, they could actually have a proper date.
No doubt, that was exactly what Marjorie intended.
Draco stretched out one of the forks but gripped it tight when Hermione tried to retrieve it. "You can have this fork as long as you agree that there will be no discussion about the case until after this cake is gone. Understood?"
Hermione nodded. Pixies jumped in her stomach at the prospect of actual time with just the two of them.
Everything in balance, she reminded herself.
He loosened his grip and Hermione took hold of the fork, all prongs intact.
Draco waved his hand over the cake. "Ladies first."
The fork dropped easily through the dessert, scooping up a perfect bite of cake and icing. Hermione closed her lips around it and savoured the decadence.
"That's absolutely delicious," Hermione said once she'd swallowed—not that Hermione expected any different from one of Marjorie's desserts. "You have to try it."
"You couldn't stop me if you wanted to," Draco returned. "Although, I propose we add a little game."
She lifted a sceptical brow which Draco quickly dismissed.
"For each bite one of us takes, we have to exchange a fact about ourselves."
Hermione sniggered. "Sounds a bit childish."
"Or an easy way for us to learn even more about each other."
Keen interest reflected in his expression. He wanted to get to know her. Not that it was surprising. Over the past few days, they had chipped away pieces of an iceberg, revealing parts of one another that had been hidden under frozen layers. But icebergs stretched deep beneath the ocean's surface. A pickaxe made minimal impact compared to such a great mass. To grow closer, they had to do more than hack at the small chunks. They had to willingly expose themselves.
Draco sliced off a portion of the cake and wrapped his mouth around the fork. "I've had a massive sweet tooth for as long as I can remember. Growing up, my mother made me the most extravagant cakes for every birthday. Bet you can't guess which one was my favourite design."
"Hmm, let me guess…" Hermione faked ponderation. "A dragon?"
"The Brightest Witch strikes again."
She laughed then took another bite for herself.
"I was terrified when I got my Hogwarts letter. For the first few weeks, I begged my parents not to send me, and for a while, I thought I had convinced them."
Draco looked sincerely baffled. "Why would you turn down Hogwarts?"
"Because I didn't know anything about the magical world," she confessed, reopening the long forgotten concern. Hermione hadn't told this to anyone. Not Harry. Not even Ron. The childhood insecurities came flooding back. "What if I was no good at magic? And the idea of being so far from my parents, from everything I knew… I was good at Muggle school. I had dreams of being an astronaut. A veterinarian. An accountant."
Draco barked out a laugh. "What child dreams of becoming an accountant?"
Her face felt hot. "I liked maths, okay!"
"Gringotts is still an option."
"I very highly doubt they'll hire me after breaking into the high security vaults and stealing their dragon," Hermione remarked. "But not the point. I was originally terrified of Hogwarts but my parents said I had to try for one year. To which I agreed, only if they took me to Diagon the next day and bought every magical book I could get my hands on."
"And thus the world's biggest swot was born."
Hermione rolled her eyes despite her smile. "I was always a swot. Though I suspect the bravery it required for me to attend Hogwarts was part of the Sorting Hat's decision to put me in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw."
Piece by piece, the cake got smaller, as did their icebergs. Hermione learned that Draco had been friends with Theodore Nott since childhood but grew apart from him when Draco prioritised cronies over actual friends. His favourite season was spring because the sun wasn't yet hot enough to torch his susceptible skin (plus professional Quidditch finals). He'd been with Pansy on and off from fourth to seventh year, but never once kissed Astoria. Hermione, in turn, shared that she'd rather live in a world without books than a world without friends and family. That the number one item on her bucket list was to travel to every continent—including Antarctica—and visit as many countries and cultures as possible. That despite enjoying being an only child, she hoped to one day have two kids of her own.
They continued to exchange stories far past when the last crumb was devoured. The surrounding crowd dwindled and the candles grew shorter, yet Hermione and Draco remained at the table, not a care in the world beyond their little bubble.
Hermione's elbows rested on the table, Draco's hands covering hers. Her foot brushed up and down his leg, a soothing motion that had kept her mind at ease as they'd dove deeper into the ice cold waters. How Draco had poked at her greatest fears when ridiculing her about her blood status. How all Draco wanted as a kid was to make his father proud, to the detriment of everyone, most of all himself.
"I'm not happy at work," came her choked out admission. "I don't feel like myself if I'm not actively making a difference. I work and I work and I work, but for what? Being here at the sanctuary has been the first time I've felt truly alive in months."
A heavy silence. A long-stretched paused.
"You're the first person that makes me want to be a better man."
The air caught inside her lungs. "You're already a better man."
A feeble smile cracked his lips. "Better, yes, but not the best I can be. I allowed myself to become stagnant here. Think that I've grown enough to call it sufficient. But I know there's more that I can do. Just by being with you…" He leaned across the table and stole a kiss. A gentle kiss. A yearning kiss. "I don't want this week to end either."
Hermione relished the warmth of his large hand cupped along the edge of her jaw. Her breathing hitched. "It's not over yet."
Draco swept his thumb down her cheek and across her lower lip. "Then we better make the most of the time we have left."
The rest of the Dennfyre faded to the background. With his thumb still tracing her bottom lip, Hermione's world narrowed to the wizard in front of her. His touch was more than enough to set fireworks inside her veins, resparking the latent longings left unsatisfied from earlier in the day. Her breaths grew shallower at the mere memory of his muscle-toned skin, their protective gear scattered on his cabin floor as Draco pinned her to the wall.
Anticipation glittered in his eyes, an assurance that Hermione was not alone in these thoughts. Each second that passed was one less that she had in Romania. One less that she had with Draco.
His chest rose slowly, followed by a clearing of his throat. "So, can I walk you back to your room, or…?"
Hermione lightly snickered, relieved at the break in tension. "At this point, I think it's more than safe to call it our room."
"Then I'll let you lead the way."
Draco slid a hand behind Hermione's back where it settled on her waist. The staircase felt like it had more steps than usual, each one an opportunity for them to turn back. But in her heart, Hermione knew she and Draco were past the point of return. If kissing him was like plummeting into freefall, then this was trusting Draco to be at the bottom and make sure she didn't crash.
The roomkey trembled in Hermione's hands, and she inwardly cursed at her body to stop. There was no need for nerves. This was Draco. It wasn't the first time he'd spent the night in her room, nor the second. Yet something about this time felt different. An unspoken communication about how they both hoped this night would end.
The shaking stopped when Draco covered her hand with his steady hold. He had stopped half a breath behind her, their bodies flush with one another as they held the key in unison. She peered back at him, revealing the question in his eyes.
Do you want to do this?
Hermione licked the seam of her lips and nodded. Nerves and jitters be damned, Hermione knew what she wanted.
The key slid into the lock and they twisted the doorknob. No sooner had they stepped through the threshold than Draco pulled her in for a kiss.
There was nothing gentle about it. As soon as their lips collided, Hermione pulled him close while his mouth crashed onto hers. Hermione craved this feeling, his lips so soft and warm that Hermione could get lost in his taste for hours. She trailed her hands lower and grasped his arms so he had no option but to keep her in his grip. With just one kiss, all the dancing Doxies that had pricked and teased her nerves flew from focus. How could she question it when everything with Draco felt so easy? If all they had were days, then there was no time left to waste.
Hermione opened her mouth and hummed when his tongue found hers. Their kisses grew more urgent, lips only releasing their lock when they began to divest themselves. Her hands travelled across his skin, having not had enough time to explore earlier in the day. The tattoos and muscles were now familiar, but his bare chest told other stories beyond the ones immortalised in ink. Thin white scars left small valleys, the reminder that people on both sides of the war had made terrible mistakes.
Draco slid his hands up her sides, across her chest, through her hair. He gripped the strands with just enough pressure that it pulled Hermione from the kiss with a whimpered mewl, only to be silenced when he covered her mouth with his again. With breathless energy, Hermione leaned into the kiss, feeling his taunt form against her own cool skin.
"Gods, Granger," he panted. "I've been thinking about this all day."
He ground his hips forward, and Hermione gasped at the contact. His growing arousal pressed against her, already thick and hard. She involuntarily bucked forwards, body tingling at even the most minimal contact. She hummed against his skin as Draco ravished kisses across her jaw and down her neck. Her hold on him never waivered. After tonight, Hermione didn't know how she would ever be capable of being more than an arm's length away from him again.
Her hands fumbled with his belt buckle as Draco's hands found their way up her back and to the clasp of her bra. The belt clattered to the floor, a distant sound in her psyche when Draco palmed her breasts. He kissed and nipped her lips, somehow never breaking as Hermione pulled his trousers past his knees. Draco kicked them the rest of the way off. Sliding her way over the remaining fabric, Hermione rubbed his firm erection.
"Fuck," Draco gasped. His head knocked back, eyes closed in rousing bliss.
A certain pride bloomed through Hermione at the knowledge that somehow, despite everything in the past, she was the one causing Draco Malfoy to make those sounds. The one that he chose to be with, and she wanted to be with in return.
Her hand dipped under his waistband and wrapped around his cock, earning her a hiss.
"Merlin, witch, you're going to be the death of me."
She moaned as Draco melded them back together in another feverish kiss. The sensation sent a rush through her that settled like a budding fire in her core, made all the hotter when Draco lifted her up and secured her around his torso. She latched her lips to his shoulder, up his neck, behind his ear as Draco carried her towards the bed. Even in the short distance, she couldn't help but roll her hips into him. She needed Draco as close as possible.
He dropped her on the mattress and wasted no time stealing the breath from her lungs. His chest pressed against her, and Hermione groaned into the deepening kiss as his weight pinned her down. If this was what drowning felt like, Hermione had no desire to come up for air.
She was spared the decision when Draco dragged his mouth from hers. He trailed kisses down her throat, across her clavicle. Hermione relished each tender kiss with a whimper. Eyes closed, she lost herself under his touch. Lower and lower he kissed until his tongue lapped over a nipple.
Hermione gasped. "Oh, Gods. Yes. Right there."
He teased the nipple with circling strokes while his thumb grazed over the other. Hermione grasped the bedsheets to prevent herself from rolling her hips too far forward. He worshipped her breasts. Sucked and licked, making sure each one got attention as Hermione's breaths grew increasingly ragged. With her mind stuck in a euphoric haze, Hermione hardly registered when Draco traced down her stomach and freed her jeans button. He slipped his hand under her knickers, and Hermione gaped at the first brush through her already slick folds.
He dragged his fingers between her slit, rendering Hermione to panting gasps. She couldn't speak. Could hardly think. His repeated strokes made it impossible to consider anything beyond his delightful torments. Desire burned through her at his ministrations, made all the worse when Draco removed his touch to grasp her waistband.
He planted kisses down her legs as he peeled away her jeans and knickers, baring Hermione fully. The beating inside her chest reached a staccato as Draco stared down at her in pure reverence.
"I don't know what I did to deserve this," he said, eyes aglow in admiration. A smirk pulled the edges of his lips. "But Salazar strike me down if you're not the most beautiful witch I've ever seen."
He kissed the inside of her thigh, the soft flesh of her stomach, then licked her pulsating slit and sucked her clit.
"Oh my God. Oh Gods. Draco."
The bold caress of his tongue teased her folds, and Hermione's head fell back in unmatched ecstasy. The sounds she let out with each lustful lick were beyond her control. Thank Merlin for standardised Silencing Charms, or the room next door surely would have heard her. She threaded her fingers through his hair, not caring when she freed the strands from the bun. She gripped his hair as a lifeline as Draco sucked the sensitive nub, his deep moans humming against her skin in a sinful symphony.
"That's it, Granger." Draco paused his sucking just long enough to peer up at her with a smirk. "I want to taste your release on my tongue." A long, slow, excruciating lick. "Not fucking you until you've already come for me."
She had never known torture to be so sweet. Heat bloomed inside her, the sensation building with every stroke. Hermione could no longer tell which sounds were hers and which were his. The pleasure was too strong. When his calloused finger pressed inside her alongside his unrelenting tongue, sparks danced behind her eyelids. The heat spooled into a tight wound, aching to break as Draco continued to lap and tease. Her clit throbbed. Merlin, Morgana, Circe. Burning devotion built inside her, close to the brink of release.
"More, Draco. I need— I—"
A second finger slid into her already tight channel and her passion reached its precipice. Drugging waves rushed through her as Draco took her clit into his mouth and sucked with ardent finality. Hermione cried out in an all consuming climax, breaths heavy as her whole body reverberated with pulsating pleasure. It took several moments for her breathing to grow steady again, only for Draco to devour her once more with a heartfelt kiss. He slid past her lips and coated her tongue with her own sweet taste.
His hands pressed to her cheeks, and Hermione melted into the kiss. She absorbed the feel of him. Sweat now glistened his skin, allowing her hand to glide over his Ridgeback tattoo, down his chest, and past the elastic of his boxers. She circled his hard length and Draco groaned at the contact. It was hard and thick yet with a silken softness that moved smoothly through her hand. She slid up and down, and Draco twitched under her hold.
"Fuck." He shoved his boxers the rest of the way off. They landed somewhere on the other side of the room as Draco pressed his lips back to hers and tumbled them onto the mattress until Hermione straddled him. She took his cock back into her grip, now even firmer than before. Her hips ground into him and beads of precome pebbled at the end of his hardening length. As her strokes slowed, Draco bit his bottom lip and knocked his head into the pillow.
"Shit, Granger." His voice was strangled. Eyes clamped shut, Draco looked like he was ready to burst. "Keep going."
He covered her hand with his and sped her strokes faster. Hermione synchronized the rhythm of her strokes, their combined moans and whimpers filling the room. The slick warmth between her legs heightened with each movement, each sound. She wanted him inside of her. Needed to know how it felt to lose herself to him completely.
She lifted her hips and positioned his length at the apex of her thighs. The tip stretched her entrance, and Hermione gasped at even the slightest insertion. A low groan emitted beneath her as she lowered herself onto his cock, needing to pause every couple inches to allow her body to grow accustomed to his length. Steady hands pressed into her sides, and Draco guided her body in conjunction with his. When she reached his base, her breathing hitched at the fullness.
Draco cursed as she rocked forward. "You feel too fucking good."
His fingers clenched tighter as Hermione began to move up and down. The length slid easily through her heat, sparking her recently satisfied fire back to life. They started slow, finding a pace as her walls clenched around him, until the movements became more fluid. More in sync.
Draco grabbed her by the back of her hair and smothered her with a kiss. She found security in the insistence of his embrace. With each thrust, Draco held Hermione close, lips never farther than a breath away. He pushed himself deep, eliciting sighs and moans and gasps and pleas. She yearned for more. Wanted him to take what he needed.
The sweat on his chest slickened, as did the wetness between her thighs. She chased her pleasure as much as she aimed to incite his, crying in satisfaction each time he filled her.
"More, Draco," she keened, hips grinding to match his pace. "Don't stop."
He flipped her onto the mattress and she whimpered at the change in position. He maintained his deep thrusts and even deeper kisses as he worked her breast with one hand and found her clit with the other.
"Yes. Like that. Harder. Oh. Oh. Don't stop. More. Never stop. Oh, Gods. Draco. I— I'm—"
Her second orgasm crashed over her more intensely than the first. Her walls seized around him, back arching when the sea of satisfaction overtook her senses. She screamed his name—unsure how many times—while Draco increased his pace, reaching his own blissful climax not long after her.
Lungs heavy with shallow breaths, they sank into the mattress, skin and hair soaked from the exertion. Not ready to lose contact, Hermione nestled her frame around Draco and rested her head atop his chest. He pulled her closer with both tattoo clad arms: one half of her body protected by the dragon, the other comforted by the idyllic waterfall. Eyelids settling closed, Hermione inhaled his scent, not wanting to forget a single thing about this moment. He smelled like autumn leaves in the expansive forest. Like their piles of research. Like all her favourite things wrapped up in one.
Long ago, she had once smelled her Amortenia in the Potions classroom with Draco no more than a few feet away. It had smelled of three things: freshly mown grass, new parchment, and spearmint toothpaste. Back then, she attributed those scents to other aspects of her life, but what if they signified someone else? The fresh grass that surrounded them at the sanctuary, the reams of parchment she and Draco had analysed, the toothpaste she had detected that first morning in the cabin bathrooms. Hermione had never been one to put her faith behind things one couldn't support with facts, but what if there was enough evidence to suggest that she and Draco were supposed to be together?
A soft kiss settled on her forehead, followed by an ever softer whisper.
"Stay."
Hermione cosied deeper in his embrace. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Stay. Stay here."
Her eyes shot open to find Draco's stare already locked on her. Her heart jumped into her throat. "What do you mean stay here?"
"At the sanctuary. Not just for another week. Permanently."
Hermione gaped in disbelief. "You know I can't. My life, my job—"
"A job you're miserable at."
"But my life is so much more than my job," Hermione reasoned. "England is my home. That's where my friends are. My parents…I can't leave them after fighting so hard to keep them safe."
She looked at Draco, open mouthed and speechless. It wasn't for a lack of wanting to stay. Surely he knew that. To dream about staying was one thing, but to actually consider it…It was mental—with or without her feelings towards Draco.
That didn't prevent her heart from sinking like a leaden cauldron when Hermione saw the disappointment he was trying to conceal.
Throat dry, Hermione forced a swallow. "Would you ever consider coming back to England?"
His chest rose and fell with a deep inhale. "My mother would like that." He peered up at the ceiling. "Mentions it every time I see her. She never says it, but the only reason she resides at our French estate is because she hopes it means I'll visit more. But I know she wishes I lived closer."
The words caught in her throat. "I wish you lived closer, too."
Draco pulled her in tight, and Hermione had to clamp her eyes closed to prevent her glistening gaze from forming actual tears. She wished she could freeze this moment. Find a Time Turner and keep this scene on endless repeat. Why must something so good have to end? There had to be a solution. Her brain had never settled with being told there wasn't an answer to a problem. But if she couldn't leave her life in England and Draco didn't want to return, what solution could be found?
"Hey." His whisper curled around her like a gentle hug. She opened her eyes and Draco brushed away the pebbled tear that had formed in one corner. "This isn't over yet."
Her chest cracked. "Yet."
Draco didn't have a response to that. What response could there even be?
She wrapped her arms around his torso and held him close. At least for now, she was still here.
Silence surrounded them, a sheer desire to absorb each other's presence before it was too late. Hermione stared out into the room as her thoughts boomed through the stillness. How could she say goodbye to Draco? No one had made her feel like this in years. But was it worth risking her heart if this road led to a dead end?
Something glowed across the room, and at first Hermione thought it was remerging tears reflecting off the outside light. But when she swiped away nonexistent moisture, Hermione knew it had to be something else.
"Draco, what's in your pocket?"
He jostled from bed and yanked his trousers off the ground. "I swear I will murder Mundungus for his awful timing."
But when Draco pulled out the burning coin, it wasn't the one for Mundungus. It was the sanctuary.