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I know it's been a minute, but I am trying to stock up on chapters a little so that I can post with some semblance of consistency.
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
For Magicalalice, who is an absolute dear and listens to me ramble on endlessly about my stories x
Saturday, November 12th, 1977
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Room of Requirement
Hermione and Draco's One Year Anniversary
Hermione anxiously fidgeted with her dress as she stood in front of the full length mirror propped up against the corner of the room. The dress was scarlet red, and off-the-shoulder. The sleek sleeves flowed down her arms to cut off at her elbows, and a slit at the front that exposed her arms as she moved. The back of the dress was open, coming to a point at the small of her back, exposing her dragon tattoo; it clung to her curves and cut off just below her arse. It was daring, and powerful.
Hermione stared at her reflection, her painted lips—deep red—curved into a smirk reminiscent of Draco's. I really have been spending too much time with him, Hermione thought fondly. She turned around, and swept her hair over her shoulder to gaze at the back of her.
Hermione nodded curtly and headed over to the King sized bed, the sheets were black and the white duvet was neatly folded at the bottom. Hermione scooped her open-toed, far too strappy shoes off of the ground beside the bed and headed over to the window where a modest table and a pair of chairs were situated.
Hermione daintily perched herself on the edge of her chair, and deftly slipped her feet into the shoes. It took a minute to work out the straps—she'd borrowed the shoes from Marlene as none of hers were on par with her outfit for the night.
Hermione rose from her chair, and she began to fuss at the white tablecloth covering the table. She smoothed her hands across it for the umpteenth time, and then straightened the silverware.
The table setting was modest, yet elegant. A short, silver candle holder holding a slender white candle with a gently swaying flame was nestled in the middle of the table. The placemats were round, pastel blue, and centered were white plates that had a silver vine pattern on the circumference.
The door on the other side of the room opened, and Draco entered: his head was bowed, and he was wearing a white, button-down with the sleeves rolled above his elbows, black trousers and shiny black shoes. She'd instructed James to tell Draco to dress semi-formally and meet her in the Room of Requirement.
The Marauders had been playing an informal game of Quidditch all day: the teams were a mixture of the houses, drawn at random. By the time Draco caught the snitch, they were all filthy.
Hermione had opted out of playing, even if it would have been amusing to be on a team with James and Lysander. (She'd been there for the team picks, but left shortly thereafter.) She wanted to surprise Draco, so she'd spent the afternoon down in the kitchens. The House Elves begged her to leave them be, as they were happy to prepare it all on their own, but she insisted that she aid them in the venture.
Draco's head rose, and he stuttered to a halt. The door shut loudly behind him. Clutched in his hand was a bouquet of fragrant, bouncy white lilies.
"Happy anniversary," Hermione smiled coquettishly, tucking her hair behind her ears as she strode towards him. She was oddly nervous.
Draco's eyes roved over her figure as she approached him, stopping on her face as she reached him.
"Happy anniversary," Hermione said bashfully. Her hands were in front of her now, and she was nervously twisting the silver ring on her right index finger; her fingers unconsciously rubbing the surface of the small, black obsidian stone surrounded by intricate silver embellishments on the band. (Draco gave it to her for her birthday, and she never takes it off.)
Draco closed the distance between them, and he wordlessly held up the bouquet. Hermione stopped fidgeting, and her fingers hesitantly explored the gorgeous flowers and their smooth texture. She buried her nose in the flowers, and deeply inhaled their sweet scent.
She accepted the flowers, and stepped backwards. "Thank you," Hermione said as she swivelled and headed over to the table.
Hermione slid her wand from behind her ear, conjured a crystal vase whose base was small and round, and its girth grew exponentially along its length. The edges of the top were rippled like a wave.
"Aguamenti." The tip of Hermione's wand was pointed inside the vase and a small gush of water left it and filled the vase halfway. Hermione placed the flowers inside. She pursued her lips thoughtfully for a moment.
The flowers would look divine on the table, but would most likely block her view of Draco. Hermione waved her wand and the vase floated over to the bedside table; a dull thud reached her ears as it situated itself on the wooden surface.
Arms wound around her waist from behind, Draco's mouth was on her earlobe and she melted into him. Hermione's hand slipped backwards, across his nape and into his hair.
"Happy anniversary," Draco murmured, placing a kiss to the sensitive skin right below her ear.
"I know we can't go on public dinner dates, but I thought..." Hermione trailed off when Draco nuzzled her neck.
"You thought?" Draco asked. He nipped at her skin, his hot breath fanning across her flesh.
Hermione smirked. She twisted around in his arm, looped her arms around his neck and asked, "you hungry?"
"Starved," Draco said, nudging her nose with his. Some of his bangs tickled her forehead. "What's on the menu?"
"Take a seat and find out," Hermione replied, leaning up to kiss him softly. He tried to deepen it, but she pulled back, wriggling out of his arms.
Hermione took her seat, and instead of taking his, Draco knelt beside her, and took her hands in his. "You look sublime."
Hermione's cheeks tinged pink. Candlelight flickered across Draco's face. A ghost of her lipstick dusted his lips, and his eyes were as deep as the expanse of the sky on a stormy evening. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.
Draco leant back on his haunches, his thumbs rubbing across her knuckles for a brief moment before he extracted himself from her entirely. He stood, and brushed off his trousers. Hermione gestured at his seat, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he took it.
Hermione picked her wand off of the table—she'd unknowingly placed it there—and the appetiser round (lobster bisque) floated over from the table in the far corner that was housing their meal. The food had been ready and awaiting them with a stasis charm on it for the past couple hours.
Easy conversation flowed as they ate. They were just finishing their bisque when Draco regaled the final plays of the Quidditch game earlier. "Warrington may be a prick, but he was fantastic in goal. He stopped James from scoring at least thrice," Draco said brightly, gesturing animatedly. Hermione ate her last spoonful, savouring the taste that melted onto her tongue.
"So your team won then? Jamie probably wasn't happy about that," Hermione said, her spoon now abandoned in the shallow bowl her appetiser had been served in.
"He was miserable from the time Lysander's name was called," Draco grinned. "The only saving grace for him was that he had Remus and Jasper."
"Not to mention that he had May as Keeper," Hermione pointed out, elbows on the table, her hand propped up in her hands. A lock of hair fell in her eyes.
The mirth slid from Draco's face. "Thank you for this, Hermione," Draco said earnestly, leaning back in his chair. A storm thundered in his eyes, face cast in shadow.
Hermione swallowed thickly, sitting back and folding her hands in her lap. "I just wanted to do something special."
Draco reached for his glass of elf wine. He swirled the rich, fragrant liquid around in his glass, before he tipped it to his lips and took a sip. He considered her for a few moments. "To us," Draco said, raising his glass in a toast. Hermione followed suit, and the pair drank in silence.
There was a viscous heaviness to the air, and Hermione was having trouble breathing. Draco's eyes were dark. In unison they both placed their glasses back on the table. Hermione's fingers skidded across the surface, and almost knocked her glass over altogether.
Wordlessly, she stood. Her legs trembled, but carried her over to Draco. Draco's legs parted, his hands resting on his thighs, and she stepped in between them. Hermione ran her fingers backwards through his hair, nails scraping his scalp, and she smirked when he pressed his head insistently upwards into her touch. Draco's hands glided along her exposed thighs, over the luxurious material of her dress and came to rest on her hips.
"Hi," Draco breathed, lips parted; his thumbs were massaging small circles on her hips, bunching up her dress inch-by-inch in the process.
"Hi," Hermione said, her arms looped around his neck as she swung one leg after the other over his, until she was straddling his lap. She hissed at the friction and contact from her core against his bulging erection through his trousers.
"I was serious, thank you for all this," Draco said, head tipped back, hair tousled from her fingers. He was glowing in the dim light, a sultry tempter with marble skin and excellent cheekbones. Hermione hands moved to trace the lines of his face, and his eyes fluttered shut; Draco's eyelashes were dark and voluminous. People killed for eyelashes like that.
"We've been together for a year," Hermione said, in awe. Draco was staring at her now, head cocked to the side. Hermione cleared her throat of the emotion thickening her airway, and said, "when we first met you were an entitled git."
"Hermione—" Draco started.
"Let me finish," Hermione implored, grasping his face. Draco nodded subtly. "You were an absolute shite, and then we both went through some terrible, fucked up things. Responsibility of a grand magnitude was thrust upon us, and we were forced to fight in a war when we should have been focused on school, on stupid teenager things."
Draco tightened his grip on her hips, his jaw taut, grey eyes glittering with sapphire shards in the candlelight.
"There was so much animosity, so much pain and suffering…" Hermione trailed off for a moment. Her tongue ran along her teeth's top row as she collected her thoughts. There was a point to this, somewhere. "The war broke shattered so many lives, and the vitriol from both sides was toxic."
Hermione stroked his cheeks tenderly, "it was horrid, but I wouldn't change a thing because it led me here. It gave me James, it gave me—" Hermione's throat closed up abruptly, her face hot as tears welled up in her eyes. A vision of Dorea played at the edge of her thoughts, her lips quirked in a wry smile; she was twirling around the Potter Orchard, a wild, free fae with the sunlight glinting across her raven hair.
"Hermione," Draco whispered. He brought her back to reality, grounded her; roots extended out of the earth and burrowed into her. Draco's arms wound around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
"Sometimes I wonder if we ever would have seen past our differences. Maybe we would have, we may have even been civil, but, we would never have been this," Hermione said, trembling. The immensity of the situation settled on her chest, wriggling around, its leaden fingers prying open her ribcage and twisting her insides into messy knots.
Hermione Granger was a foreigner in her mind to the point where it was as if she was a character in someone else's story. Draco Malfoy was a wisp from the past, so unlike the wizard beneath her that she struggled to see the resemblance. Yet, the bones were there, their traces a permanent imprint on their stories: their past, their present and their future.
"I would do everything all over again if it meant that I got to come back to the past with you, to meet everyone that we have, just—all of it, without a moment's hesitation."
Draco swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing jerkily. A crooked smile. "Not even a brief moment though? Peggy's simpering should be enough to give anyone pause," Draco said, a teasing lilt laced through his words.
Hermione flicked his cheek, and he flinched. "You are a fucking arsehole."
"I know," Draco said.
Hermione laughed airily, a giggle galloping out of her as Draco pressed a kiss to the hollow of her neck.
Draco sobered, hands skimming up and down the planes of her back absently. "I didn't deserve any of this—"
Hermione kissed her teeth together in protest. Draco shook his head. "I'm going to have to ask you to hold off on making any comments—I know it will be hard for you—as it's my turn to rip my chest open and expose my heart to you. Now, witch, sit there looking pretty and listen." Hermione rolled her eyes, but obliged.
"I truly didn't. You were nothing short of gracious from the moment we arrived in the past—" Hermione snorted, and Draco ignored her, "—and promised that we would figure things out together. Not everyone would do that, Hermione. You could have told Dumbledore that I was a 'foul, loathsome, evil cockroach'. That I couldn't be trusted…but you didn't."
Hermione's mouth opened and closed, but she buttoned her lips and pressed them into a thin, painted line to avoid any unwelcome commentary as Draco had so eloquently put it.
"I sure as fuck didn't deserve the Potters, Sirius, Remus, Lily—fuck, any of this. I didn't deserve it, and I had no idea what a fucking ride it was going to be. I wasn't prepared to care so much about any of them, especially, not you."
Tears were marching down his cheeks now, but he carried on, "I'm grateful that we ended up in that stupid corridor arguing over some inconsequential shite, because it gave me a second chance. Life can be downright cruel, but it can also be beautiful…"
"Fuck, this is sappy, but you're one of the best things that's ever happened to me," Draco said.
Hermione dropped her forehead to his, her hair forming a curtain around them. They were transported to their own world, the sound of their breathing and their heartbeats pounding in their ears.
"That was sappy," Hermione agreed. She gripped his chin with one hand, the other busied itself by undoing Draco's belt buckle.
"Hermione," Draco gasped as she ground down on his erection. Her index finger found his lips, and she shifted just enough to unbutton his trousers.
Draco reached in between them, freeing his cock. With clinical efficiency, he used his other hand to tear her lacy panties off of her. Hermione gasped, mouth open in shock.
"That is one of my favourite pairs—" Draco languidly examined her as he pressed the tip of his cock into her cunt. Hermione's head fell back. "You don't play fair."
"What would be the fun in that?" Draco asked, entering her tantalisingly slow, until his velvety cock was fully sheathed within her.
Hermione rocked back and forth gently, capturing her wizard's lips in a sloppy kiss.
With the aid of her heels, Hermione's feet were firmly planted on the ground. She swivelled her hips, hands bunching up in the fabric of his shirt just above his shoulder blades.
Draco's mouth was hot, insistent and unremitting as it blazed a trail from her chin down her neck—he paused to nip at her collarbone—and he tugged at the neckline of her exquisite dress, pulling it down and exposing her sheer, black brassiere.
The wizard nonverbally vanished her bra. "Draco!" Hermione exclaimed in protest, lips twisted in disapproval as she sank down on his cock. The metal from his belt buckle dug into the underside of her thigh; she ignored its cold sting.
Still entwined, Draco held fast to his witch, stood with such force that his chair clattered to the ground, and he manoeuvred them over to the nearest wall.
Draco hooked one of Hermione's calves up and over his shoulder, a sliver of her other shoe was scraping the ground. He drove into his witch, their foreheads pressed together, sweat gathering at their hairlines.
Hermione's fingers lazily circled Draco's nipples through his shirt, and his thrusts mellowed. Draco was all teeth as he caught Hermione's bottom lip in his.
Hermione tilted her pelvis down, her inner walls clenching. It was a prolonged, torturous movement as Draco filled Hermione to the hilt. He panted into her open mouth. Hermione's tongue swiped across her bottom lip, a metallic taste swelling across her palate as she tasted blood.
Hermione pulled at his shirt, tearing it open—he lost a few buttons in the process—and her hands skimmed his torso, "what do you want?" She asked as if inquiring about confectionery.
Draco's actions spoke volumes. He bumped his nose against her cheek, a droplet of sweat transferring onto her skin. She scrunched up her features. Hermione's nails traced patterns across Draco's abs, which tightened under her attentions. He pulled out just enough to slam back into her, hard.
Draco's strokes quickened, short and crisp at first then forceful and unfocused. Intoxicating mint wafted off of Draco. Hermione ducked her head to the side, tongue flat against Draco's flesh as she licked from his collarbone to the underside of his jaw, salt coating her taste buds.
Draco drove into her one final time before he toppled over the edge, a loud groan vibrated from his lips and pierced into her soul. Hermione followed shortly after when Draco's thumb found her clit. She bit down on his shoulder as she came, her leg twitching as her orgasm ripped through her.
Draco shakily slipped out of her, and Hermione's feet sought out solid ground— her knees knocked together and quivered as she straightened out to her full height.
Spent, the pair wobbly made their way over to the bed, and toppled onto it. Draco sluggishly removed his sweat-soaked shirt and tossed it; it made a squelching sound as it hit the hardwood.
It was a silent, steady task as they disrobed one another. Draco pressed a kiss to Hermione's knee as he helped undo her strappy heels.
Hermione lazily waved her hand, and their main course floated over to where they sat bare and cross-legged on the black, silk sheets. She pushed her thick hair back and over her shoulder. "I'm starved."
Draco's canines were proudly on display. The wizard wriggled his fingers and a pair of forks floated over from the abandoned table. They were having cavatappi in a rich, tomato meat sauce that had been rendered down with finely chopped onions and bell peppers. He handed one to Hermione, and she hummed her thanks.
They dutifully tucked into their food in companionable quiet, with the occasional moan or comment on how delicious the food was from Draco.
Hermione winced when she accidentally bumped her fork against her cut lip.
"Fuck, sorry," Draco said, brow threaded together as he placed his mainly finished meal on the bed beside him, the fork clattering into the bowl as he scotched forward.
Draco's thumb traced her bottom lip, a pale green light brushed across her peripheries, and a cool sensation pervaded her skin. "Sorry about that."
Hermione caught his thumb in her mouth, her teeth trapping the digit and she applied the slightest pressure to it. She released it, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip. "Apology accepted."
Draco's hands knitted their way into her curls, getting caught in some of the knots, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.
Draco untangled himself from her mane, sat back and resumed eating his meal. Hermione was on her last forkful as she realised her gaze was fixed on the trio of silver chains that hung around Draco's neck. Draco followed her line of sight, a curious stare on his face.
Draco banished their finished dishes back to the table, and Hermione made a noise in protest, "who said I was done with that?"
"Were you planning on licking the bowl?"
Hermione shrugged.
Draco fiddled with his necklaces, and Hermione crawled over to him and into his lap. She hissed as her still-sensitive clit rubbed against his soft cock, but she focused on his face. She loosely looped her arms around him.
"Does it bother you that I still wear it?" Draco was rolling the emerald pendant that Marlene had given him between his thumb and forefinger.
"No. Does it bother you that I still wear the bracelet that Remus gave me?" Hermione asked, eyes darting to the jewellery in question. Draco snorted, and dropped the pendant.
"Of course not," Draco said, his fingers now trailing up and down her sides absentmindedly.
It was a pleasant sensation that lulled her into a drowsy state. "You know you're stuck with me, right?"
The amusement that expanded his chest and rumbled around inside of him extended to her, and he responded with, "is that so?"
"Afraid so. Lifetime deal."
"No return policy?"
"Nope," Hermione slurred, her voice thick with sleep.
"I think I can live with that."
Hermione's chin dropped to Draco's shoulder, exhaustion gripping her limbs, and her eyelids drooped. She felt her hold on Draco slacken, and darkness encroached on her vision.
"Hermione?"
She shushed him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. He was so warm. Hermione was snug and content in Draco's arms, and she feebly fought to pry her eyes open, but it was futile.
Draco chuckled lowly as Hermione sagged into him. He negotiated his way up the bed, the witch still in his arms, and directed them under the sheets. Hermione purred in her sleep, burrowing into him. Her curls a wild thing thrust out behind her.
Draco placed a hand on her lower abdomen and cast the contraceptive spell as an extra precaution; he knew she was on the potion, but one could never be too careful. Draco kissed his nose to hers, bony fingers of fatigue tap dancing along his spine.
Sleep tugged at the tips of his hair, and plunged him into its depths, his arms full of his witch.
Sunday, November 13th, 1977
Muggle London, England
Killian's Tattoo Parlour
Draco's entire body was numb. Experimentally he flexed his fingers, and found that a prickly sensation raced from their tips all the way down to his toes.
He heaved out a sigh, eyes still closed, the whirring sound of the tattoo machine mixed with Killian and Orchid's soft breathing swelled against his eardrums.
"You still good?" Killian asked.
Draco grunted in response. He'd stopped feeling the pain of the needles piercing his skin a while ago, and now he found it almost soothing. Draco was laid facedown, his face to the side, shirtless as the pair worked their magic across his skin.
Draco's first tattoo of the day had taken less than fifteen minutes: he'd convinced James to write a capitol 'M' for him, and some Roman numerals that he'd provided him with (the date that he and Hermione arrived in the past), and Killian had inked it on his inner right wrist with ease.
The picture forming on his back was a sight to behold. A thicket of evergreen trees spanned from the middle of his back on his left side, and shot up to his shoulder, their tips swaying across the curve of skin. The scene travelled by way of a stream that wove through the trees and down to his right hip. There was a plethora of fauna lining the stream's bank.
The main focus was the pure white doe with silver eyes and a spattering of raven spots across her back.
The tattoo was going to be enchanted to allow the doe free reign of the forest scape, and for the scene to follow the day's cycle.
The whole thing curved around Draco's wolf, who had been watching the tattoo unfold with great interest.
"We're almost done, sweet pea," Orchid assured him. She had a feather light touch as she set about adding the details to Killian's life-like image. One could see all the hues and shades in the doe's fur.
Elsewhere in the Parlour, Georgie was polishing off Hermione's third tattoo of the day. Her first was an intricate crown on the inside of her forearm above her lightning tattoo with a cursive 'W' engraved in the middle. The rubies glinted as she moved.
Hermione's second tattoo curled around her left ear and trailed down her neck: a pair of silver paw prints outlined in black with the initials DP on their right started the line, followed by a pair of hooves with James's initials on their left, then black paws that burned gold whenever she underwent extreme emotions of any kind with RL accompanying them. Last, but certainly not least were a final set of paw prints, although they were larger than the others, and Sirius's initials to their left.
Hermione was propped on her right side, teeth clenched as Georgie intertwined the enchantments into her final tattoo of the day.
The bouquet of vibrant emeralds gently blew across her ribcage, as if a breeze was tickling their slender viridian stems. The bouquet was secured by a shiny, silk, silver bow.
"The bouquet for your Ma?" Georgie asked conversationally, as he switched off his machine and laid it on his silver tray beside him. He bent close to her skin, sharply assessing his work.
"Emeralds were her favourite and my Dad likes to garden…it made sense," Hermione got out, squeezing her eyes shut as the pain subsided.
"Your brother mentioned a doe before he went in with Killian and Orchid, what was that all about?" Georgie asked, his wand now pointed at her tattoo—a green light washed over her skin. Mild curiosity tickled his face.
When Hermione didn't answer for a few minutes, he assumed that she wasn't going to share the meaning of the tattoo with him. Hermione cleared her throat, slumped against the chair and huffed out air.
"Dad's nickname for Mum was Doe," Hermione said sepulchrally, brow tied together. Invisible iron shackles wrapped around her limbs and cemented her to the chair.
"You're all done," Georgie announced, sitting back in his chair. He stashed his wand in his trousers, and crossed his arms over his chest. There was a troubled look in his eye. Hermione took note of the extra scar he'd gotten on his forehead since she'd last seen him.
"Thank you, Georgie," Hermione said, warmth tinging her tone.
The man guffawed, the sound rumbling around his room. "Don't thank me, you haven't gotten a proper look at them yet."
Hermione shot him a wry look as she hopped off the chair, bare feet slapping across the floor as she made her way over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room.
Hermione had a bit of trouble seeing the ones by her ear until Georgie sauntered over with his heavy footsteps and provided her with a plain, rectangular, handheld mirror. She squealed in delight as she absorbed all her fresh ink. Tears welled up as she gazed at the bouquet. She gingerly traced it, the stems shifting under her touch; she marvelled at the sight.
"Thank you," Hermione repeated, her voice watery. She trembled with gratitude at the gorgeous tattoos he'd given her. She righted the sleeveless band tee with large arm holes that she'd nicked from Sirius.
Hermione flung herself into Georgie's arms for a brief but charged hug. The giant of a man chuckled at the random bout of physical affection.
"You are one of my favourite clients," Georgie said. Hermione allowed him to grasp her wrist in hand and examine his handiwork once more. "You know the drill, even though it's healed the area will probably be a sore for a few days."
Hermione nodded curtly. Georgie carefully returned her wrist to her side, and with a hand on her shoulder he steered her towards the door; she slipped on her shoes swiftly on the way. "Let's see if the others are finished."
The birds on Georgie's door sang gaily as they exited his room, and they found the front of the Parlour empty save for a weedy man with a pointed face, hollowed out cheeks and knobby knees. He was waiting listlessly in a chair on the far side of the room.
"Davies!" Georgie boomed. Life breathed into the man, and he beamed at Georgie as he jumped out of his seat and bobbed across the room, his gait uneven.
Hermione sidestepped, not wishing to get in the way of the enthusiastic reunion.
"Georgie!" Davies embraced the vast man, in comparison to Georgie he was a wee thing, and he vanished in his arms.
"How have you been?" Georgie asked, pulling back to take in the man's appearance. The welcoming smile on his face barely masked the concern emitting off of him.
"As well as can be, you know with the new laws in the works," Davies shrugged.
"They won't pass." Georgie's expression was dark, cast in sticky shadow as he bared his canines.
"Whether they do or don't, getting work hasn't been easy since I registered with the Ministry." Davies's regret was palpable, he shrank into himself a bit. From this angle, Hermione caught sight of the nasty puckered scars along his neck.
Hermione opened her mouth—unsure of her next words—but Draco, Killian and Orchid emerged from their room and stole away with her words.
"Davies," Killian greeted emotionlessly, the man looked a bit haggard. The dark circles under his eyes betrayed his arduous, sleepless nights.
"Killian," Davies nodded. Orchid exuberantly greeted the man, her words bubbling out of her, and Davies returned her zest to the best of his ability.
Draco settled their tab with Killian. Hermione unabashedly started at the back of his head the entire time. Draco counted the gallons and sickles out for Killian, and slipped them across the counter with ease. (She'd offered to pay but he refused, stating that their money all came from the same place and this was his anniversary gift.)
Killian smiled as Draco said something amusing, and the two wizards exchanged a friendly handshake. Before Killian disappeared, he raised his hand in farewell to Hermione. She smiled gently and did the same.
Draco strode over to her, hands tucked in his snug black trousers. Hair was covering his forehead, she brushed some of it backwards; it stuck up oddly as a result. She snorted.
Hermione touched Georgie's upper arm, and the man clapped her on the shoulder and they said their goodbyes.
Draco held out his elbow, and she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.
"So you actually got the crown then," Draco said as they meandered round the shop into its adjourning alley. It was late, the sun lost in the night's embrace. Curfew must have settled into effect ages ago, but if they were lucky then they might be able to sneak back into the Castle without a hitch. James's borrowed Invisibility Cloak helped.
"Weasley is my king," Hermione teased. Draco's lips twitched at that. He hauled her up by her middle and shoved her against the alley's red brick wall.
"That right?"
"It seemed unfair to get a tattoo for Harry but not Ron," Hermione replied simply. Draco nodded. She kissed his nose.
"I will admit that it was a childish endeavour, and cruel…but you have to admit that that song was masterful," Draco said wistfully. He placed her on the ground, but wedged a thigh between her legs. His body right up against hers. He retrieved a fag from his pocket, and slid it into the corner of his mouth.
"I will concede that the rhyming was quite excellent—are you sharing that?" Draco had lit the end of the cigarette with a flame on the tip of his thumb. He took a large drag, removed it from his mouth, tilting his head up and blew a stream of smoke into the air.
Hermione plucked it from his fingers, and pulled long and hard until her mouth was full, and then slowly released it through her parted lips.
"Plus it was a group effort amongst the Slytherins, an exquisite example of teamwork," Draco commented. He dropped a kiss to her cheek as he stole back his fag.
"Weasley can save anything, he never leaves a single ring," Hermione sang with zeal, her pearly whites showing.
Draco rolled his eyes, but harmonized with her regardless, "that's why Gryffindors all sing: Weasley is our King."
The pair finished off the fag, the smoke clinging to their clothes, hair and skin. Draco crushed the butt under his heel, grinding it into the cobblestones.
"What is the 'M' for?" Hermione asked, she'd meant to ask earlier. Draco reached into his back pocket and fished out the Invisibility Cloak. He gracefully covered them with a flourish and they disappeared from view.
"Marauders."
Hermione wound her arms around him, her cheek squished against his front, "mischief managed."
Draco fit his chin on her head, hands in her wild hair, "I don't know about that love, I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He outlined the shell of her ear with his thumb, and she shuddered.
A sharp crack jaggedly tore apart the air and the pair disapparated. The force of their departure caused a small stone to plop into a nearby puddle, and rippled rings fanned out across the mirrored surface.
Hermione and Draco easily made the trek back to the Castle, and snuck through the Castle until they were once more in the lion's den. They slipped into James's bed, and groggy with sleep, he sat up and insisted they show off their new ink.
James could only smile as his fingers traced Draco's doe, which was lazily drinking from the stream, illuminated by the stars in the night sky. Draco cracked a dreadful joke, and the trio ended up in stitches, bodies shaking with laughter.
Their exhaustion soon claimed them, and the Potters fell asleep entangled; Hermione sandwiched in between them as she curled around the expanse of James's back. Their breathing soon synced up, and they scurried off into the land of dreams.