Hello my dears!
I hope everyone's weeks are going well so far! I managed to carve out a bit of time this evening to finish writing this chapter, I really hope you like it!
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Saturday, November 13th, 1976
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
The witch was staring at the lines on her palm with intense interest, she'd captured her bottom lip beneath her top one and the pale light from the window adjacent to them shimmered across the loose curls that had fallen forward into her face.
Her companion quietly scrutinised her as she refused to look at him: he was seated in a sturdy, stubby-legged chair with crimson upholstery, completely motionless with the exception that he was tapping his index finger against the tip of his opposite hand's thumb.
The witch had shot him a poignant look before she raced out of the Common Room earlier, and he'd instantly known where she intended for them to meet: he recited all the ingredients for the Draught of Living Death in his mind, twice, before he followed her.
She'd conjured up a simple room: two chairs—in the centre of which was a round, white, shaggy wool rug—and one wide window that copious amounts of artificial light was pouring through. Aside from that however, the room was bare—overall it was possibly big enough to just fit a King sized bed in, but Draco highly doubted it.
The witch's brow puckered together, but she still remained silent, whilst Draco was hastily growing weary of her lack of speech.
"Stop frowning," Draco demanded—unable to take it anymore—shifting minutely forward in his seat, a hand reaching out and brushing against the outside of her thigh.
Hermione stiffened, finally tilting her head to look at him, her shoulders laboriously rose and fell; the witch appeared to be torn, split between two minds, but then she stepped forward, and Draco instinctively spread his legs so that she could settle herself in between them.
Hermione cautiously brushed her fingers through the ends of his hair, and Draco's head tipped upwards so that he was looking directly at her—his hands were hovering inches away from her, as if unsure whether he was allowed to touch her or not.
"How is this going to work?" The words were a gentle breath that warily left her lips, and her hands slid from his hair down to grasp his face with a wary sort of tenderness.
"Going to have to elaborate on that statement a little bit for me, sweetness," Draco said, deciding to loosely wrap his arms around the back of her legs, the tips of his fingers interlacing an infinitesimal amount.
"How are we going to be together when to the rest of the world we are currently not just siblings, but twins?" Hermione queried, thumbs lightly stroking across his face.
"We've had years of experience at not getting caught if we didn't want to," Draco responded easily.
Hermione exhaled deeply, moving closer until her knees bumped into the front of the chair. "Not getting caught carrying out pranks and various other sorts of debauchery, is completely different from sneaking off to snog your 'twin'."
"You worry too much," Draco murmured, tugging her closer, and Hermione couldn't help smiling, narrowing her eyes at him before she climbed into his lap, straddling him as her knees dug into the sides of the chair.
"When did you become such an optimist?" Hermione asked as she dipped her head closer to his—bumping his nose with hers.
"I'm not, I just know what I want, and I'll do whatever it takes to attain it," Draco smirked, shifting so that his lips were brushing against her jaw as he spoke.
"Oh?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow, and Draco snorted softly at the brazen edge to her tone.
"So, to answer your prior question, it won't be easy, but I'm willing to try and make this work if you are," Draco stated, lowering his walls and letting her see all of the emotions quaking and shaking within his grey eyes.
Hermione bit her lip coyly, and pressed her forehead to his for a long moment.
"Hermione?"
Hermione slanted her head to the side, "it's you and I no matter what, remember?" She closed her eyes and her lips ghosted over his cheek, then travelling to the left, leaving feathery imprints across his skin until her lips found his.
Draco tightened his hold on her—gripping onto fistfuls of her jumper, and getting lost in the feeling of the witch in his arms—and he couldn't help the corners of his lips turning upwards as Hermione's lips pressed against his, and they parted just enough to gulp in air.
"I remember," Draco breathed in between soft kisses, and Hermione's laugh reverberated against his lips as her fingers curled against his face.
When they broke apart, Hermione slid her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
The witch and wizard were still adjusting after the whirlwind of events that had transpired the night prior, where they'd passionately confessed their true feelings for one another; neither of them quite used to this new dynamic yet. This was was entirely new territory for them after all—and they were carefully dipping their toe in and testing the waters, before they submerged themselves completely in each other.
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked, her lips caressing his sensitive flesh, and a shiver tripped its way along his skin.
"You," Draco mumbled, a hearty chuckle spilling from his lips as Hermione jerked backwards and made a loud noise of annoyance.
"I hate you," Hermione shook her head, but her tone indicated the very opposite, as did the spectacular smile that was growing wildly across her features, the corners of her eyes wrinkling slightly.
Draco recalled a time where those words had been spat at him with vicious vitriol, and a bolt of lightning struck him sharply as it occurred to him just how far they'd come since then.
"Absolutely despise you," Draco quipped back in a playful manner.
Hermione's smile somehow jumped a notch brighter, undiluted joy radiating off of her, and she ducked her head down to peck his lips.
Draco played with the fabric of her jumper between his fingers, and after a moment of thought he said, "if we can go from utterly despising each other to…this—then I think we're capable of pretty much anything, Hermione."
"Even a secret relationship?"
"Even a secret relationship," Draco nodded in confirmation.
"You do know we're going to have to be overly careful around Remus and Sirius, right?" Hermione said after a moment of mulling his words around in her head.
"Fuck, their ruddy, keen sense of smell," Draco swore, having completely forgotten about that hurdle.
"For the most part it should be fine, but…" Hermione trailed off, letting her head loll back so she was gazing listlessly at the ceiling.
Draco pursed his lips together thoughtfully, "you do know that we all reek of each other pretty much all the time, so they might not notice."
"That's bloody likely," Hermione snorted.
"Well, at least we have James to help throw them off the scent," Draco deadpanned, keeping his face carefully neutral.
Hermione stiffened in his grasp before she slowly lowered her face to look upon him once more, "you did not just say what I think you did."
"No idea what you're talking about," Draco drawled.
Hermione scowled, letting go of him, untangling herself and a bit clumsily climbing out of his lap.
Draco tried to grab ahold of her once more, but she nimbly jumped out of his grasp, just, in the nick of time.
"For that abhorrent pun, I am going to leave now," Hermione stuck her tongue out, and began to traipse out of the room.
"Hermione!" Draco called, rising from his seat and throwing his arms out to the side.
"Leaving," She sang gaily, quickening her pace, and he'd just started to move when she broke out into a run—stopping long enough to swing open the thin, oak door—vanishing through the opening with a peal of laughter.
Draco shook his head as he strode along after her: if there was one thing he could be sure of, it was that dating Hermione was bound to never be a boring affair.
Saturday, 20th Nov, 1976
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Quidditch Pitch
"Brilliant job, everyone! I'll announce who made the team sometime over the next week!" James announced loudly, clapping his hands together.
The sky was an uneven greyish blue colour, wispy strings of clouds were slithering along the skyline as the sun began its descent for the evening, and the vibrant green grass on the pitch was sparkling with droplets of water from splattered showers throughout the day.
The Potter brothers were standing side by side, and Draco's broom was resting across the span of his shoulders and his arms were loosely gripping the rough wooden handle. Gathered in front of them was an assorted group of students: some of them had been on the team before, for others it was their first time trying out—an exorbitant amount of them were younger wizards who kept glancing at Hermione whenever they could.
The witch in question was standing on the outskirts, tucked into Sirius's side and resting her head on his shoulder—either oblivious (which was highly unlikely) or purposefully ignoring the attention being thrust her way.
"You lot can leave now," James said after a long moment.
As the wix dispersed, James turned to his brother, sighed heavily, rubbing his temple as he asked, "what do you think?"
"Half of them were here to stare at Hermione or Sirius," Draco commented dryly, digging his left heel into the soft ground for a few moments.
"Oi! Don't sell yourself short, pretty thing, a couple of them were definitely staring at your tight arse," Sirius laughed as he and Hermione sauntered over to them.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "whatever, I don't care whose arse they stare at, I'm more concerned with if they can play or not."
"There are some serious contenders for the other two Chaser positions," James said, stroking his chin in deep thought.
"I liked that Fourth Year—Jasper was his name, right?" Sirius asked, cocking his head to the side as he ran a hand backwards through his luscious raven locks—which was windswept, and rippling like rolling waves.
"Yes! Jasper! The kid certainly has spunk," James grinned brightly, handing Sirius his broom as he walked over to the chest containing all the Quidditch balls and heaved it off the ground with a low grunt of effort.
"I think we can all agree that May proved himself above and beyond," Draco threw in.
"I'm actually considering handing him the Captain position after we graduate," James informed his pack members as he crossed back over to them, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose when he halted beside his sister.
"He's good with direction, he's phenomenal at helping the others improve," Hermione added, striding forward and looping her arm through James's free one, jerking her head to the right and indicating that they head for the locker rooms.
The group strolled towards the edge of the pitch: chatting and commenting errantly on the performance of all of those who'd tried out, cracking the occasional joke as the remnants of the sun disappeared only to be replaced by inky darkness and brightly twinkling stars.
Draco couldn't help looking at James and pondering on how his brother hadn't treated either of them differently since that fateful night a little over a week ago now; much to the contrary, if one didn't know better they would think that James was completely in the dark about how Hermione and Draco's relationship had shifted.
When they reached the door to the locker, James held open the door, and bent slightly as he gestured
Draco let out a hearty laugh at a particularly funny comment Sirius made, and he caught Hermione's eye at the same time—the couple shared a secretive glance, and Draco winked suggestively at her.
A prim smile graced her face, and a pretty blush bloomed across her cheeks.
James witnessed the interaction and rolled his eyes, "you two are ridiculous." The youngest Potter shot them a look before he slipped through the door to follow after Sirius.
Draco and Hermione let the door swing shut, and Draco glanced around them quickly to ensure they were alone before he leant down and quickly kissed his witch.
Hermione made a surprised squeak, and before she could say anything Draco was pulling the door open, whistling a merry tune as he too entered the locker room.
"Idiot," The witch muttered behind him, and Draco's whistling merely soared and danced along behind him. No, dating Hermione was most assuredly never going to be boring, not even for a moment.