"How's your honeymoon?" Harry asked me in a heavy whisper that dripped with trepidation. He's written to me daily, and though I know he loves me, it seems odd.
"It's going well," I smiled. "I've been gardening—don't roll your eyes, Harry, I'm keeping these alive this time—and hiking with Draco. He cooks dinner every night and then we just lie on a blanket outside and look at the sky. So basically all of the corny married things." I heard him chuckle. "Oh! And we found a cat. Draco named her Stella."
"I can't wait to meet her. Is Draco around to say hi?"
"He went to the market, but I can tell him to call you later."
"No, no, it's not important. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Hermione."
I paused. "About that.. Maybe we could skip our call tomorrow? And, you know, maybe every day after that." I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I also wanted to be with my husband and no one else.
Harry's voice dropped back down to a thick whisper. "I'm sorry, I really just want to make sure you're okay. I know it's a bit overbearing, but what else is a brother supposed to do?" I loved when he called himself my brother. After all we've been through, he wasn't just chosen family; Harry was it.
I leaned in closer to the fire, confusion wrinkling my forehead. "What exactly do you think is going to happen?"
Harry didn't respond for a while, which made me nervous. I'm always nervous these days. There's so much to lose and I've lost so much.
"You haven't been away from us for this long since school, and I get a bit uneasy knowing I'm not there to keep you safe."
"But my husband keeps me safe now! I love you, and I promise I'm okay."
Harry sighed and looked off to the side. I didn't think he felt this strongly about me leaving town. "Fine, I won't call tomorrow, but please reach out to me if you need anything. Promise?"
"Promise, Harry." We ended our call and I stepped back from the fireplace.
It's been years since the war, but the effects have been long-lasting. Even though the people around us are perfectly safe and back to living normal lives, I'm too aware of this false sense of security. Anything could happen at any moment, and the hypervigilance I carried with me weighed me down. Sometimes it weighs me down so heavily I can't get out of bed.
Needless to say, Harry's anxiety about my safety had me a bit on edge, so I started walking along the road Draco would have taken for the market. When I finally caught up to him, he'd been halfway back towards the house. I grabbed a bag and our footsteps fell in tandem. I stepped closer to him and told him about the call from Harry. He laughed and kissed my forehead.
"I'll always keep you safe, no matter what." I smiled up at him.
It hurts, these moments. This man beside me is real and sturdy and dependable. He makes me tea in the morning and rubs my feet in the evenings. He sings me to sleep when my legs get too heavy and I can't trust my thoughts. He has opened his heart wholly and completely to me, and I carry it around like fine china. So when I'm in his presence, no matter what, I want all of him. I need his warmth and his skin on mine. I need to hold him, to become one with him.
Even here, walking next to him, I feel a great urge to drop our groceries and merge our bodies. I don't, though. Instead, I let the fireflies dance around my stomach and repeat in my head: I am his and he is mine. He is mine.
It was sunny that day. I remember the fluffy clouds that sat behind the manor like a backdrop, and the patterns of birds that flew overhead. I remember wondering where they were going, if any were in love. Do the younger birds fly in front or behind? I remember Draco's hand on my knee, and the way he was trembling in anger.
We were at his parent's house, announcing our engagement to them. We were both nervous. Although I'm not particularly fond of Narcissa and Lucius, I feel a bit of guilt every time Draco argues with them over me. About whether I'm good enough, about how I'll cheat on him and steal his money. How unfit I'd be as a mother, or how confused our kids would be with a muggleborn mother and a pureblood father. He always stood up for me, always corrected them, and though I appreciated it more than I can verbalize, it was just one more reason for us to stay as far away from them as possible.
As we suspected, Narcissa played nice and gentle, although she's never quite seemed to let go of her disapproval. She was friendly, though, and never made me feel uncomfortable. Lucius, on the other hand, went off the rails.
I remember crying. Lucius hexed Draco with a spell I'd never heard of. I watched him fall back, so I ran to lay over him, shielding him from whatever else Lucius may try. Draco was crying, his anger running out of room inside his chest and leaking out of his eyes. I wanted to take him and leave. His fingers around my arms, squeezing. It hurt, but he was trying to tell me something, wanting me to feel his promise to me. I let him.
I can't recall any of the words that were said, but by the time Draco and I returned home he was an absolute wreck. He kissed my arms where he'd grabbed me, then kissed my lips, then paced the room. He did this for hours, like his brain was still wrapping its head around what the hell had happened today. I cried with him.
Somehow we ended up on the floor, both of us fighting to kiss every inch of one another. We would be getting married in six months, when the frost has melted and the world comes back to life. I would be Hermione Granger Malfoy, dropping my middle name for my father's surname, my way of keeping his name alive. I would wear a vintage wedding dress, one that I'd pretend my own mother wore.
We spent hours on the floor letting desire drive our actions. To this day Draco still kisses my arms where the fingerprints have since faded. Sometimes I still finger that patch of skin to feel the grooves of his lips.
The sizzle of garlic hitting olive oil in a pan. The smell wafting through the home. Draco is cooking dinner and I'm pouring wine into goblets. I add a record to the record player and French jazz music fills the cottage. The sun is setting and the sky is pink and purple and the flowers I planted look as happy as I do right now. For a moment everything in the world feels aligned, like this is how everything was always going to be. I am happy and in love and drinking while looking out of a giant window facing the cliffs.
I walk back into the kitchen to see if Draco needs any help and I see him hunched over in the middle of the kitchen. "Draco, are you okay?" I ask with a teasing tone. He turns around and his arms are shaking.
I take in the image before me. My husband, a towel over his shoulder and a look of anguish sitting in his features. A chef's knife in one hand and a circle of blood in his stomach. My breath catches and I feel my legs giving out. It takes me a moment but my brain finally snaps like a rubber band and I run over to him. By now, he's collapsed and I'm holding him up, putting pressure on his stomach and sliding the knife as far away from us as possible.
I slide over, reach into a drawer, and pull a handful of hand towels out. I'm looking at his face, draining of color. I'm looking at our hands, full of red. I'm applying tissues and telling him he's okay.
Where's my wand? I wonder to myself. I accio ditany and pry my husband's shirt open. I apply a generous amount over his wounds but it's not working; instead, it's spreading his wound. I'm looking at a hole in my husband's stomach and there's so much red around us I feel light headed. I think I'm crying but I'm not certain. I'm screaming Harry's name but he can't hear me and I can't move because I can't leave Draco.
Icy cold panic freezes my bones and I'm scared that if I move I'll break.
"Get Harry," Draco manages to mumble.
I grab more tissues and pry them under his hand. I run to my wand and try to send a Patronus but not even a spark comes out. My face is on fire and I'm peering into Harry's home and I'm screaming, maybe, or crying, maybe, or speaking a different language, maybe. I pull my head back and Harry is standing in front of me, taking me in. I point to the kitchen and crawl after him, my legs too heavy.
I watch Harry's eyes get big with shock.
"Don't just stand there, Harry! Help Draco! Help him, I can't stop the bleeding."
Harry turns to me with a look in his eye I don't recognize, and he runs over to me, picks me up, and walks me back to the fireplace. I scream. I beg him to look at Draco, to leave me here. My body is shaking, maybe, or moving, maybe, or drowning, maybe. But there's no water. Only my husband's insides.
My throat hurts, and my brother's skin is under my fingernails. My stomach hurts and I feel sticky. Harry pulls me into the fireplace and without another glance at my husband we are spinning into nothing and all I see is nothing. For a moment, I am nothing.
