There were times when Draco looked around at his life and still couldn't believe where he'd ended up.

After the war, he had always assumed he was destined for the life of a recluse, his only hope of companions laid in loneliness and guilt. But by some twist of fate, his life hadn't turned out that way at all.

This was definitely one of those nights. As he sat on some dingy Black relic in the Potter household, he could scarcely believe any of it. For there he was, celebrating Harry Potter's birthday, surrounded by Gryffindors and happy about it, no less.

Well, happy about being surrounded by one specific Gryffindor. The rest were just a natural consequence of being in Hermione's orbit.

Draco smiled gratefully when she handed him a fresh drink with a peck on his cheek, his arm slinging around her with practiced ease as she smoothed her skirt and settled next to him.

Across the room, he saw Weasley stare at them for a brief moment before turning his attention back to one of the Patil twins, though it was clear he wasn't paying any attention to a word she said.

It hadn't exactly been an easy road with him. Not that Draco had expected some shining endorsement of their relationship. Weasley had acted about as maturely as Draco had assumed him to. But Hermione had stood her ground, and if he hadn't already been completely in awe of her, Draco certainly would have been then.

How long had it been since someone had defended him in such a way? He wasn't sure if anyone ever had.

Draco was a good man, she'd told Weasely, he had changed and grown and apologized. She was her own person. Their relationship was over and while she was certain his concern came from a good place, she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions, and she would greatly appreciate it if he would kindly butt out.

It was obvious, however, from the way Ronald always took to staring at them whenever he thought they weren't looking, that his fears hadn't been completely assuaged.

And as Draco watched him that night, an odd thought struck him. One he couldn't help but voice.

"Is it odd that someone else in this room has seen you naked?" he asked.

Hermione followed his line of sight to Ron. "You're not getting insecure on me, are you?" she teased.

He huffed in reply. "Hardly. Just curious is all."

"No, I don't think it's all that odd. We've all known each other for years."

He turned his head towards her, and watched the rest of her wine disappear into her mouth. "Besides," she said quietly with a lovely flush to her cheeks, "it's two other people."

Draco sat back, surprised, gaze beginning to dart around the room in an attempt to suss out whom she was referring to.

Longbottom? Not likely, as he'd been attached to Luna Lovegood since eighth year. Dean Thomas was a fairly fit bloke that could carry on a decent enough conversation. He supposed Lee Jordan was a possibility, but he hadn't seen them interact much. But perhaps that was why.

His eyes landed on Ginevra, and he wondered. Hermione having a relationship with the She-Weasel made much more sense than any of the men he'd considered. Ginny was far more intelligent and interesting, though he wasn't sure if either she or Hermione had any affinity for their own sex when it came to romantic partners.

He could speculate all night. "Care to share with the class?"

She seemed to be resolutely avoiding eye contact with him, and he couldn't imagine why. She was certainly aware of his, mostly ill-advised, sexual exploits with Pansy. "Come on, Granger, it can't be that bad."

She took a deep breath, leaning forward to place her wine glass on the coffee table in front of them before she finally met his eyes. "It was Harry," she said in that blunt, matter-of-fact way of hers that so often left him reeling.

He took a moment to let the name register in his mind. And did the only logical thing he could.

He laughed.

A booming noise that turned heads with curious stares. Of all the ridiculous things. "Good one, Granger."

But her face didn't change to match his. It grew annoyed, a frown pulling down the corners of her mouth. "It's not funny, Draco."

She wasn't laughing. Why wasn't she laughing?

He blanched.

"Oh. Oh. You're…you're serious? You're serious."

The look she gave told him she very much was.

Emotions bubbled up in him, unbidden and strong. Surprise and shock followed by complete and utter dismay.

He opened and closed his mouth like a floundering fish. Only one word managed to make its way out. Loudly. "Potter?"

Several party goers were staring again. Weasley looked ready to intervene. Potter looked confused. Ginevra looked absolutely delighted.

Hermione flashed a fake smile towards her friends, before standing up, and dragging him with her into the front hallway, his steps stumbling while her hand cast a Silencing charm around them. "Keep your voice down," she hissed, and he continued to gape.

"You had sex with Harry fucking Potter?"

She bristled, and if he had been able to form any kind of coherent thought, he would have backed away from her ire. "Don't you dare shame me for this, Draco Malfoy."

"Harry fucking Potter?" The only thing he could think to do was pace the entryway.

"Stop saying that!"

"Of all the idiots, Granger," he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and she continued to look menacing.

"Harry's not an idiot, Draco, and you're being a giant arse."

Normally he'd argue with her on the former point, but there were more important matters at hand. He stopped directly in front of her, needing to understand, imploring her to explain how something this truly awful could have happened. "But how did it…How?"

"Well, Draco, generally when a man inserts his-"

His face scrunched at the thought. "Gods, Granger, no. You know that's not what I meant."

She seemed to relax a bit at his discomfort. "It was during the war when we were on the run. Ron had left and we were living in the tent and we were both lonely and sad and it just…happened," she finished nonchalantly.

He supposed he could understand on a base level. He'd turned to sex for the same thing on any number of occasions in the years following the war. It didn't bother him at all that she'd had sex. He, of all people, knew the force that was Hermione Granger. Knew the draw of her.

He'd seen first hand how many eyes watched her at the Ministry. The list of those who had tried to date her was long.

Draco just never imagined that list of people would include Harry fucking Potter.

"It didn't mean anything," she continued. "I mean, not really. It was what we both needed at the time, and we both agreed that was all. But I don't regret it, and I'm not ashamed of it."

It wasn't the first time she'd mentioned shame, he realized. "Granger, I don't care you had sex, you know that right?"

She crossed her arms in front of herself defensively. "Well, I didn't think you did, but the way you're acting says otherwise."

Draco sighed. "I apologize, that's not my intention. You were eighteen. Alone and on the run for your lives. Of course you sought comfort. I'm just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that of all the people in this sodding world, you slept with-"

"Harry Potter," she finished for him slowly, as if saying it at a different speed might help it sink in. "I had sex with Harry Potter."

"Must you keep repeating that?" He flinched, before his stomach curled with a horrible notion. "Am I at least better than him?"

"Draco!"

A flash of red caught his eye in the room they had left. For the second time that night, Draco found his thoughts inexplicably turning towards Weasleys. He lowered his voice, letting his previous question go. For now.

"Do they know?"

"Who?"

"Ginevra and her brother."

He did not like the mischievous gleam in her eyes. He didn't like it one bit. "Are you feeling empathetic towards Ron?"

Was he? That didn't seem right. "Don't patronize me, I'm fragile at the moment."

"Ginny, yes. Ronald, no." She exhaled and shook her head. "Gin thinks it's hilarious, and Ron can never know."

Draco felt as if he'd been scolded. "As if I would tell him," he snapped back. "I'd rather not have something to commiserate with Weasley about, thank you very much."

For the first time since the conversation had started, a smile pulled at the edge of her lips. "Sorry. Of course you wouldn't tell him, I just…" she trailed off, biting down on her lower lip while she studied his face. "You're going to pout about this for the rest of the night aren't you?"

She gave him far too much credit. "You'll be lucky if I'm finished after a week."

Her responding laugh let the tension out of his shoulders. "How can I make it better?"

Was he really that upset about the situation? It was more of a shock than anything. Would he milk it for as long as he could? Absolutely.

"I don't know, Granger, you did sleep with my arch-nemesis."

He relished the exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Don't be a prat, Draco."

Moving into her space caused the same thoughts of disbelief from earlier in the evening to surge in his veins. Most thoughts of Harry Potter chased away by her proximity. How was it possible she not only allowed him to do this, but welcomed it?

He reached up to wrap a stray curl around his finger, and her hand came to rest on his arm. "We can go home right now and have sex if it'll make you feel better."

Draco stepped back, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the fireplace, ignoring her laugh of half-hearted protest.

"I think that is very much what we're going to do."

oOo

Hours later, a sated and thoroughly fucked Hermione stretched and curled into his side. It had been one of his better performances, judging from her reactions, and he did feel immensely better.

He rode that high, confident in what her answer would be to his question, but wanting to hear it nonetheless.

"You can't tell me that wasn't better than your tent sex." He lost his eloquence after orgasms, it would seem.

A small hand swatted his chest. "Comparison is the thief of joy."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"Every experience is different, Draco. I'm not comparing."

"Oh, come on!"

oOo

My forever thanks to FloraOne for her help with this and everything I write.

How did this come about you ask? Twitter, naturally. I ran across a discussion theorizing that there was no way Harry and Hermione made it out of that tent without having sex, and I found I was inclined to agree. Hence, the torture of our Dear Draco.

Hope you enjoyed, a comment a day keeps the imposter syndrome away, and come find me over on tumblr.