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Monday, February 14th, 1977
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Room of Requirement
Valentine's Day
Hermione stretched her arms high above her head, extending her body like a feline as she strolled into the room, a yawn escaped her lips, but she was in the middle of stretching so she was unable to cover her mouth—which of course Draco commented on.
"Sod off," Hermione replied, stopping to kick off her shoes, before dropping her knapsack beside them. Hermione inhaled deeply, and only then did she really take in the room.
Today the room was a touch larger than normal—yet it was bare, save for the thick, navy blue, knit blanket that Draco was stretched out on. Candles were floating, gently bobbing up and down around the high ceiling. Resting beside Draco was a rectangular, black box with a emerald green ribbon prettily tied around it.
Hermione strode over to her boyfriend, gracefully kneeling down next to him and greeting him with a quick kiss. She toyed with the ribbon on the box for a moment, and careful to keep her tone even (she failed in that regard, he could hear the slight annoyance), she asked, "you got me chocolates?"
"Maybe," Draco drawled, shifting so that he was lying flat on his back, fingers threaded together behind his head—his face turned to the side as he kept a keen eye on her.
"I thought we agreed that we weren't going to do anything special, and I quote, 'I don't think we should participate in all that Valentine's Day hogwash, Hermione'." Hermione reminded him, and a tiny scowl twitched across her features.
"I had to get you something for our first Valentine's Day together," Draco grinned lazily, his canines on full display.
"Draco… I didn't get you anything," Hermione sulked, and picked up the box—she was still fiddling with the ribbon.
"Having you here is enough," Draco's grin grew at her scowl over the corny declaration. In a smooth motion, he sat up, scooted closer to her, put a finger under her chin, and guided her face towards his.
"You're ridiculous," Hermione muttered right before he slanted his lips across hers. Hermione didn't kiss him back at first, but then he nipped at her bottom lip, and she melted, giving in wholly to the kiss.
Draco pulled back, smug smirk fixed in place, and she rolled her eyes. "Open it," Draco said, pecking her lips once more.
Suspiciously, she glanced down at the box—ignoring the fact that one of her feet was falling asleep—and tugged at the ribbon. The ribbon easily came undone, and with a flourish she removed it, dropping it beside her.
Hermione's eyes flicked up at Draco, quirking a brow, it had only just occurred to her that the box was much heavier than it should be if only chocolates were inside. "This isn't a prank is it? I swear to Godric, if something jumps out at me—"
Draco groaned loudly, shooting her a droll look, "just open it."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the box, but boldly proceeded to lift off the cover. She paused as she took in the contents, and then, without warning, a joyous peal of laughter sprung forth from her lips. Draco winced at the sudden sound, and she immediately clamped her lips together, her face bursting with glee.
"You got me potion ingredients," Hermione exclaimed, excitedly running her fingers across the phials neatly encased within, resting on red, velvet cushioning.
Draco had primly scrawled what each glass phial held in the outside, and tied around the top of each phial was a tiny, white ribbon.
"You were running low on a few things, so I thought I'd restock your supply," Draco said, and giddily Hermione's gaze shot back up to him, and a wave of shock ran over her.
She hadn't felt Draco remove his hand, but he had, and now he was clasping a gorgeous bouquet of pure white Calla lilies—there were sprigs of baby's breath, and a few cornflowers sprinkled throughout as well.
"'You abhor the stipulation that all women like roses'. Right? I swear I remember you telling me these were your favourite," Draco said cockily, he knew he was right, and in spite of her shock, she couldn't help but think, how infuriating. Wonderful, but infuriating.
Hermione found herself rendered speechless, which only served to increase Draco's satisfaction.
"What's wrong, sweetness, do you not like them?" He asked innocently, eyes widening as he blinked blankly up at her.
Still gobsmacked, she managed to reacquire her ability to speak, well, string words together. "I told you that the first day we got here. How in Godric's name did you remember that?" Hermione asked, carefully placing the box on top of the previously discarded ribbon. Her fingers danced through the air with hesitation for a brief moment, before she reached out and grabbed ahold of the bouquet.
"I'm highly detail-oriented. I remember things," Draco said.
"Love, thank you so much," Hermione said, at a loss for words. "Seriously, how did you remember?"
"Told you, detail-oriented. You don't remember anything, do you?" Draco joked, his hand now absently tracing patterns across the top of her right thigh as he watched her.
"You mentioned that you were a jerk," Hermione said teasingly, sniffing the flowers. The witch let out a content noise after inhaling their delicious scent.
Draco kissed his teeth together, and sent a unimpressed glare her way.
Hermione ran her finger along one of the petals, tilting her head to the side, before placing the bouquet to her left.
She ignored the numbness in her leg, or how it twitched uncomfortably as she crawled towards Draco—pins and needles angrily shooting up the length of her leg, thus causing small muscle spasms (which she ignored).
The wizard shifted so that he was fully upright, but he crossed his arms over his chest, lightly pouting.
Hermione straightened up, and she promptly settled herself in his lap—straddling him. Hermione began to hum an errant tune, and her fingers wasted no time in playing with the front of his soft, long-sleeved, maroon shirt—unlike her, he'd stopped by the Gryffindor Tower to change, whereas she'd come straight from the library where she'd been studying with Marlene.
"You also said you weren't nearly as big of a prat as you used to be, which is kind of true," Hermione whispered, a teasing lilt to her voice.
Draco narrowed his eyes at her, but he unfolded his arms, instead choosing to lightly rest his hands on her hips, "kind of?"
"Still a prat when you want to be."
"You love me anyways," Draco stated arrogantly, jerking his head back when she leaned in for a kiss.
"I was just teasing, I'm sorry," Hermione said sincerely, tightly wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulling him back down to her, "thank you. You're an amazing boyfriend, and I loved it all."
Draco stared at her impassively, but he didn't fight her when she pressed her lips to his this time, instantly responding to her, his hands sliding up to trace her ribs, and she shuddered in response.
"Thank you, Draco," Hermione said, and he swallowed the words. His fingers insistently worked at the buttons of her shirt now, until her blouse was open, and in a flash, discarded on top of her flowers. Draco placed open mouthed kisses along her neck, eventually reaching the swell of her breast and nipping harshly at the sensitive skin.
She pulled at the fabric of his shirt, but he shook his head, his hands grabbing ahold of hers, "not today, sweetness."
"Draco," Hermione moaned, and she bit her lips when she felt him grow hard underneath her.
"Fuck, you're making this really hard," Draco swore, his pupils fully dilated.
Hermione smirked at that comment, and Draco in turn rolled his eyes, "you're ridiculous."
"You're the one who wanted to take things slow," Hermione responded, slowly grinding her core against his sheathed length.
Draco hissed, eyes now molten silver, flecked with midnight blue, "Hermione," he warned.
"Draco," Hermione said, a hand slid down his abdomen and hovered at the waistband of his black trousers, but one of Draco's hands quickly covered hers.
"Not today," Draco replied, "today is about you, Hermione."
"Today is about us," she corrected, and Draco smiled softly at that.
"What am I going to do with you?" Draco asked, dropping a feathery kiss to her bare shoulder.
"Fuck me?" Hermione asked brazenly, and she heard Draco's breath hitch, and then the very audible swallow that followed.
Unbeknownst to Hermione, Draco's mind decided to take a wild ride: he was thinking about how it felt like he was dreaming. That perhaps, the past few years had been some bizarre, elaborate dream. His mind was busily convincing him that when he woke up, he would be Draco Malfoy again, and she, Hermione Granger, and they would despise each other. If it was a dream, then this was cruel and unusual punishment, and he never wished to wake up. Which was probably the sappiest thought he'd ever had.
"Draco?" Hermione asked, worry heavily contorting her features, and her slender hands were cradling his face.
Draco shook himself out of his daze, "sorry."
"Where did you go?" Hermione asked, and Draco's hands travelled up and into her loose curls, twirling his fingers through them.
"Nowhere."
"Draco," Hermione said sternly, she clearly had no intention of letting this go.
Draco closed his eyes, sighing. "I was just thinking…"
"Draco, look at me, please," Hermione urged gently, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on his cheeks.
If anything he clamped his eyes shut even tighter.
"Draco."
He was drowning in chamomile and vanilla. Draco wrapped his arms around her midsection, clung to her with everything he had, and buried his face into the side of her neck.
"I was thinking this was a dream," he admitted, his voice slightly muffled, but the words vibrated against her bare skin.
"I beg your pardon?"
Draco nuzzled into her further, "that I would wake up, and none of this would be real, that it couldn't be real, that we would go back to being Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger…and hating each other."
"Draco," Hermione said, peppering the side of his face with light kisses, nudging his face until it turned enough for her lips to find his.
"I love you, and this is real," Hermione said, pulling back just enough to speak. "You want me to hit you, and prove it?"
Draco snorted, but a smile found its way into his face, "I love you too."
"Good," Hermione beamed, dropping a kiss to his forehead, "now, I'm hungry, we should maybe sneak down to the kitchens." They were obviously not going to pick up from where they left off.
Draco nodded, dinner in the Great Hall was most assuredly over. "I could eat."
Hermione paused, "do you want me to say it, or…?"
Draco pressed his lips together, "Hermione Jean Potter."
"Yes?" Hermione batted her eyelashes at her boyfriend, gnawing distractedly on her bottom lip.
"I am not even going to dignify that with a response."
"That's no fun," Hermione pouted.
"Come on, let's go get some food," Draco said, releasing her, and twisting out of her arms—much to her clear disappointment. After he stood up, he brushed off the back of his pants, and adjusted his trousers, trying to not think about how much tighter they'd gotten.
Draco bent at the middle, and swiftly swept up Hermione's shirt, pursing his lips as he tossed it at her.
Hermione giggled lightly, easily catching it, "thank you," she sang gaily.
"You're most welcome," Draco said, crouching down, and gathering the flowers into his arms, slowly folding out to his full height. The wizard waited whilst Hermione buttoned back up her shirt.
"You popped a button off," Hermione tsked, stroking the spot on her blouse where a button used to reside.
Arrogance, he oozed arrogance the moment the words left her mouth, and she threw back her head, exasperated.
"Okay, I definitely need a fag," Hermione said, shaking her head, blinding reaching out and searching until her fingers bumped into the box cover. Hermione grabbed ahold of it, and did not tarry in placing it back where it belonged.
She swiped the ribbon off of the ground, hugging her box to her torso as she stood up, turning on her heel to face Draco. Only to see that he'd slung her knapsack over his shoulder, and he'd neatly tucked her shoes inside of it.
Hermione cocked her head to the side, "I'm supposed to walk around in my socks?"
"You're acting as if you haven't travelled the halls barefoot before," Draco pointed out.
"Fair enough," Hermione shrugged, striding past him with her head held high, and glaring playfully when he placed a brisk smack across her backside. "Behave, Mister Potter."
"Never," Draco said cavalierly, "where's the fun in that?"
Thursday, February 17th, 1977
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Great Hall
Destination, Determination, and Deliberation. The mantra was repeated time and time again, firmly engraved into the student's minds as they tirelessly practiced.
The following week was to be the final one before the twelve-week apparition course concluded. However, one particularly gifted witch, and one extraordinary wizard were already taking their exam.
A hurdle here, an obstacle there, it didn't matter what Phineas Toole threw at them, they completed the task with ease. Hermione knew from experience that normally, the exam was not this intense nor this detailed, but Toole appeared to be curious just how proficient they were at apparating.
After the fifth test, Hermione began to grow a smidge irritable, it was if they were jumping through hoops in a circus for his entertainment.
Draco lost it first, "Mister Toole, can you tell me why this test is still going on? We've clearly demonstrated that we can apparate further than two feet without splinching ourselves."
Toole cleared his throat, his face flushed red, his curiosity having simply gotten the best of him, he shook his head adamantly—chestnut curls flopping about as he did—and waved his good hand at Draco, "yes, right. I do apologise. You both did a marvellous job, you both pass...but that much was obvious. Again, terribly sorry."
"Thank you, Mister Toole," Draco said, bowing slightly, wiping away the light sheen of sweat that had broken out across his forehead, combing his fingers backwards through his messy hair.
Hermione brushed her ponytail over her shoulder, folding her arms over her chest, and cocking her hip to the side, but, in spite of her standoffish body language, she was grinning brightly.
The wattage of her grin spiked as Toole signed off on their papers, stamping them, and waved his wand over them. The wizard then proceeded to hand each one of them a roll of parchment, officially stating that they had acquired an apparition license.
Toole sent them off with proud smiles, even though he knew he had nothing to do with their success, "remarkable," he mumbled to himself as he jotted down their names in his book. He'd send it into the Ministry later, in order for them to be added to the registry of those in possession of apparition licenses.
Hermione Potter, and Draco Potter, as of Thursday, February 17th, 1977 are licensed to apparate anywhere within Great Britain, and its environs. Said individuals will however, need to obtain portkeys in order to travel elsewhere, i.e. foreign lands.
Toole glanced through what he'd written, and satisfied, shut his book. He would later send a skittish owl—with a bad habit of pecking you if you didn't provide him with treats—to the Ministry, where the necessary paperwork would be processed. Paperwork that neither Hermione nor Draco truly considered for a long time.