Relationship Tags: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Theo Nott/Luna Lovegood

Story Tags: Horcruxes, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Pining Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Hogwarts, Eye Contact, Anxiety Attacks, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, POV Hermione Granger, Romance, Past Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Eventual Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Endgame Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Jealousy, Panic Attacks, Post-War, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Background Relationships, Smoking, Alcohol

Author's Note: This story will update every Saturday, unless otherwise noted. For more information regarding MSTM, be sure to follow my socials:

TikTok: slytherinphoenix713

Twitter: slytherinphx713

IG: slytherinphoenix713


October 1996

He gazes at her from across the immense library, peeking through the gaps of the shelves that are filled with books that bite and float around you. He's already fifteen minutes late meeting her, he doesn't need her knowing that the reason for that is because he's been watching her. She also doesn't need to know that for the past month they've been working together, he's been doing this prior to every meeting they've had. But this is the only time he has the ability to look at her and genuinely take in everything about her, much better than the brief glances he steals while in classes, or across the Great Hall.

Draco takes in the way her brunette curls twist and turn; the flicker of the candlelight against them, making the curls appear as if they are snaking their way up to the crown of her head where they are being held together by a twist of her wand. Her eyes quickly flitter across the pages of her book, the tip of her quill between her lips, her brow furrowing in concentration. Gods, what I would give to take the place of that quill, he thinks to himself. His eyes drift down along the length of her legs, stopping at her crossed ankles. The tips of her toes on her right foot tapping against the leg of her chair. The longer he stands there, the frequency of her tapping increases.

Stepping around the corner of the stacks, he casually makes his way towards the table where Hermione sits. She keeps her head down, eyes still focused on the text as he approaches her. When he gets to the table, he doesn't sit down right away. Instead, he stands there nonchalantly, taking his time as he removes his book bag from his shoulder and places it onto the wooden table.

"You're late. Again," she quips, not looking up from her work.

"Awh, Granger, missing me already?" he teases, dropping into the chair across from her, the signature Malfoy smirk prominently displayed on his face.

Hermione quickly glances up at him, a look of indignation painting her face. His smirk grows a bit at this.

"You may not take this project seriously, but I do. I understand that it must be horrific to you, having to work with a mudblood like me, but you're just going to have to get over that. I refuse to provide a subpar product on this assignment because of your ancient, inane prejudices."

Draco is taken aback by the bitterness that laces her usually cordial voice. The smirk immediately vanishes from his face as he feels his heart drop into his stomach and then start to race. He hasn't held that view for years. He doesn't even know if those views were actually his, or just his attempt at receiving the approval from his father that he so desperately sought.

"Granger…" he starts to say, but then trails off, not knowing how to articulate what he feels.

Hermione holds his gaze, one eyebrow cocked high into her brow. Her chin juts out as she raises her head slightly, daring him to come back with his usual remarks. She's not backing down, refusing to be the one to break the connection. The longer this goes on, the more Draco struggles to break it. He knows that Hermione is a strong witch, probably the strongest witch - no - strongest person in general, that he has ever encountered. Be that as it may, he notices a tightening in her eyes as each unspoken moment passes. The type of tightening that happens as tears begin to prickle into vision. Even the strongest of individuals reach a breaking point at some point.

"Granger," he starts again, "I don't think that way anymore. I haven't for a while. I'm sor-"

"No, please don't. Don't apologize," she interrupts him, finally breaking her eyes away from his, looking back down at her work. "Just please take this project seriously. Show me that you can do it, that you can take pride in the work we have to do together. If you can show me that, I'll know that you mean it."

He doesn't respond to her right away. He doesn't know what to say. Of course she doesn't want to hear an apology from him. He's only the wizard who tortured her for her blood status for the first three years of knowing each other. Why would she believe an apology from him now?

"You're right, Granger," he admits at last, "I should be more considerate of your time. I won't be late again – pinky promise." He sticks out his right pinky as he says it, one of his many silver rings glimmering in the soft candlelight. She stares at the long, slender finger for a moment, then her eyes flicker to his face, a hint of surprise present on her face. After only a moment, she raises her own pinky and locks it with his. Immediately, a deep, calming warmth spreads throughout his entire hand and trails up his arm, enveloping his entire being in a sense of familiar comfort. From Hermione's soft, yet swift, intake of breath, he imagines that she feels it too. Their pinkies stay bound together longer than either of them expected.

"I'm surprised you're familiar with what a pinky promise even is, Malfoy," she remarks, slowly removing her pinky from his, a chill running through her body as her finger glides across the cool metal of his ring.

"I think you'll soon find that I'm full of surprises, Granger," he retorts, a playful smirk once again gracing his face.

His heart skips a beat when she gives him a small smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling in genuine enjoyment. The first real smile that she's ever directed at him. After only this first one, he's already addicted. He will do anything to have her look at him that way again.

He feels a blossom of hope begin to form.

August 2001

"Malfoy….Malfoy…MALFOY!"

If Potter's bellowing voice isn't enough to jerk Draco out of his memory and back into the present time, the sharp kick to the shin that Theo delivers to him certainly brings Draco out of his trip down memory lane.

He rapidly blinks and makes a quick survey of his surroundings. He's seated in his usual chair at the Weasley-Granger dining table - next to Theo, across from Granger. He had been too absorbed in his memories, not paying close enough attention to the conversation that was happening around him. The overpowering scent of gardenias that wafts across the table towards him makes it extremely difficult for him to stay focused on the task at hand. The aroma brings him back to a better time, a time when she was his and not the weasel's. He looks over at Harry, who has a look of great annoyance on his face.

"Were you listening to anything that was just said?" he questions Draco.

"Sorry, didn't get much sleep last night, must've zoned out."

A hushed scoff is heard from across the room. No one needs to look around to know that it comes from Ron, but Draco looks at him anyway. The physical temperature of the room doesn't change in the slightest, but that doesn't mean that everyone in the vicinity doesn't feel the piercing ice that exudes off of Draco as he can't help himself from addressing him.

"You know, some of us have actually been out in the field, fighting the Mort Noire, Bella's own brand of renewed Death Eaters, searching for horcruxes, day in and day out, for the last month straight. Not all of us have had the luxury of staying at home with our perfect little families, sleeping in our comfortable beds. So maybe you should lay off the fucking 'holier than thou' attitude you seem to have against me. And for no legitimate reason, might I add, considering I'm the one who's made the most headway on all this." His voice drips with venom as he spews out the words.

No one says a word. No one moves a muscle. No one even takes a breath. The two men glare at each other, filling the room with an overpowering amount of energy; a menacing energy that is on the brink of chaos. Energy that flies between the two of them at lightning speed. A cool and deadly serpentine energy playing against the daring and boisterous feline energy. Cunning against boldness. Dark against light. Ice against fire.

Hermione's eyes rapidly flit between the two wizards, wanting to diffuse the growing tension. She slowly leans forward, gently resting her elbows on the table. With that movement, two sets of eyes immediately focus on her: molten silver and ocean blue. Neither pair of eyes lessens their intensity, their jaws tightly locking.

"A lot has happened in the past month, it's understandable that your tensions are high right now, but we can't do this every time we all meet. We have to work together, not beat each other down," Hermione looks only at Draco as she softly breaks the silence, despite the fact that the comment is directed at Ron as well.

When she doesn't turn to look at him too, the hard expression on Ron's face drops for just a moment. Disbelief briefly coloring him, before an even more intense hardness locks itself into place. Taking his gaze away from Hermione, he shifts his glance back across the table. His eyes lock with Draco's as his hand slides over Hermione's knee, squeezing it tenderly.

Startled by the touch, she slightly jumps and whips her head towards Ron. Her sudden movement brings his attention back to her. He turns to her with a small smile on his face. The smile is short-lived, however, because as soon as he locks eyes with her, he just barely catches an expression that fleetingly dances across her caramel eyes. It happens so swiftly he has trouble identifying the emotion, but it doesn't sit well with him. His brows slightly furrow in confusion as Hermione places her hand atop his, returning his smile serenely.

Draco abruptly shoots out of his seat with a sharp exhale of breath. Roughly running a hand through his platinum hair, he stalks out of the room muttering, "I need a minute."

"I think maybe a little breather for everyone is a good idea. Let's reconvene in thirty," Harry addresses the remaining members before looking at his best friend, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on Ron's face. As much as he tries not to, he can't help glancing down at his leg. Harry's slip of the eye doesn't go without notice, though. When he brings his eyes back to Ron's, after only a split moment, his face is filled with what he means to be sympathy, but what Ron reads as pity. Something that Ron absolutely despises.

Theo walks out to the garden in the back of the house and finds Draco standing near the gardenia bushes, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. His eyes are closed as his head is slightly tilted upwards towards the blue canvas of sky, the first strokes of brilliant pinks and oranges gliding across it. Theo slowly makes his way over to stand next to his friend.

"That was a little fucked up, mate," he admonishes with a marginal shake of his head. Draco winces, his head falling completely back as a small groan escapes him. His pale fingers wrap around the cigarette as he takes a long drag. After holding it as long as his lungs will allow, savoring the burn of the menthol, he slowly pushes the smoke out with a long, deep breath - truly becoming the personification of his namesake.

"I know."

"I mean, you can't really blame him for not going out on missions with us," Theo continues on in a brusque, matter-of-fact tone. "It's not like he chose to get hit with that dark curse that refuses to heal. Have you ever really looked at his leg? Merlin, it really is quite repulsive to look at, what with the way that it just continuously oozes-"

"Theo.."

"And then for you to repeatedly bring up the fact that he's not out there, because, you know, it's not like the pain and everything from the curse isn't enough of a reminder for him. Shit, it's no wonder he fucking hates you," he finishes with a sideways glance to Draco, one eyebrow raised and an impish smirk playing at his lips as blunt sarcasm laces his voice.

"I get it, Nott, I'm a prick. You don't need to continuously inform me of this. I already know."

Draco lights a second cigarette and offers it to Theo, who takes it without question. The two former Slytherins stand together in silence, the scents of gardenias and smoke weaving together, enveloping them in a deliciously painful reminiscence. At last, Theo turns to Draco, pushing his dark curls out of his eyes.

"You're going to give yourself away if you keep this shit up, Drake."

"There's nothing to give away. There can't be. You were right about that."

"You can tell yourself all you want that there can't be anything there, but that doesn't mean that there isn't something already there," Theo says in a sympathetic voice.

Draco turns to look at him, not bothering to mask the hurt he feels. "It was supposed to be us. This was supposed to be ours. Of all the bloody wizards she could have gotten with, it had to fucking be him." The pain that coats his voice is almost too much for Theo to hear coming from his friend - from his brother.

"Are you really surprised that he's the one she ended up with after you? You know he was always trying to win her over at Hogwarts."

Draco takes another long drag. "No, I'm not surprised. Just didn't think it would hurt this much to see it, to have it confirmed." He lets out a humorless laugh. "And I really have no right to feel any sort of jealousy, seeing as we wouldn't even be in this position if I hadn't been such a sodding coward."

Theo throws his arm around Draco's shoulders, giving him a brotherly squeeze. Nothing further needs to be said. The regret of his actions, or lack thereof, is something that Draco will live with for eternity. He'll never forgive himself for how things ended; for not being strong enough to be the man she once believed him to be; for being the cause of the pain she suffered as he walked away from her.

"Let's go back in," says Theo, "you can't hide out here forever. The sooner you're able to accept that she's with someone else now, the better it'll be for you."

Draco flicks the last of the ashes off his cigarette and vanishes what remains of it with a swish of his wand. He turns to make his way back into the pool of emotions that awaits him inside.

"He doesn't deserve her."

"Neither do you, Draco."

Knowing that Theo speaks nothing but the truth, Draco walks towards the house - standing tall with shoulders as tense as they were when he found himself faced with the Dark Lord for the first time - giving no indication that he heard what was said. Because if he acknowledges the truth of Theo's words, he admits that there is no future. And he's not ready to face that truth, even if it is staring him down like the impending fate of a basilisk's gaze.

"I can't believe that you are actually defending him," a heated voice whispers.

"I'm not defending him, Ron, I'm just saying that…" she trails off, momentarily losing her train of thought when she hears the back door swing open.

She pauses for a moment looking up towards the kitchen door, listening for any sound of footsteps approaching. When none are heard, and when the door doesn't open, she looks back to Ron, who isn't paying attention to any outside sounds - too focused on their conversation.

"You're just saying what, Hermione? Because you seem to have a lot to say to me if I make any small indication that I don't agree with him, yet when he blatantly throws shit back in my face, there's radio silence from you. We're supposed to be a team, you and I – I have your back, and you have mine."

"I do have your back, Ron. You know that I've been spending almost every waking moment trying to find a way to reverse the curse, to heal you and have it last for more than just an hour or two. I'm just saying that there's a lot of pressure being put on him-"

"There's a lot of pressure being put on everyone in the Order! What really happened before? When he decided to turn against Voldemort and start helping us?"

"It's different for him, and you know it! Everyone expects him to have all of the answers solely because the person we're after happens to be related to him. And please don't start on that again, Ronald. I've already told you the reason. After what happened at Malfoy Manor, when we were taken by the Snatchers, he realized he didn't want to be on that side and a part of those actions anymore," she says with an exasperated sigh, tired of having this same discussion.

"I don't believe that was the only reason. Maybe that's the only reason he gave to you, but I know there's more to it. The way he looks at you…" he trails off, not wanting to verbalize what he feels is going on. "I'm sorry that I've been letting him get to me. I just feel so helpless not being out there with the rest of them - not fighting with them. It was always you, Harry, and me. We were the ones who were always going out, the ones who were actually accomplishing things during the war. Now it's Harry and Draco and Theo out there, and I can't do anything."

Ron leans against the kitchen counter, keeping as much weight off of his leg as possible. Hermione leans into his side, places her head against his arm and whispers to him, "I know, and I'm so sorry that this happened to you."

Ron takes a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes close as he leans his head down to rest on top of hers. "Thank you for being here, Hermione, for putting up with me. I honestly don't know what I would do without you. I love you."

At this declaration, Draco ceases his fabricated interest in the small bookshelf that resides in the corner of the dining room - which conveniently happens to dwell only a few steps from the door that separates him from the arguing couple - unable to bear hearing her reciprocate the sentiment.

He quietly walks back to his seat at the table, and slides in next to Theo, who is a little too engaged in a conversation with Luna about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. His eyes never stray from hers, a joyful expression on his face as he watches her whimsically move her hands around as she speaks.

"You good now, Malfoy?" Harry questions, interrupting his conversation with McGonagall and Kingsley from the other end of the table.

Draco's only response is a quick nod of the head, as he reaches out for the glass in front of him and takes a long pull of the Firewhiskey inside. Firewhiskey that was definitely not in the glass before he left the table to go outside. Theo, you know me too well.

Draco knows that the others are making their way back into the room. He knows that they need to discuss what has been happening in the hunt for Bella and her horcruxes. He knows that he shouldn't care about anything other than that. His only focus should be this task. He should be putting everything he has into destroying his maniacally unhinged aunt. Nonetheless, that seems to be the last thing on his mind whenever he steps inside of this bloody house. His focus is entirely on the woman who sits in front of him. Unfortunately, that also extends to the man next to her as well, as he seems to always be glued to her side - staking his claim on her.

The rest of the Order members make their way back to the table, idly chatting as they walk in and take their seats. Hermione and Ron are the last ones to enter the room, moving slowly due to the limp the curse on his leg has caused. Despite having a cane to help his mobility, Hermione has her arm linked with his, providing him additional support. The heat Draco felt coursing through his blood from the Firewhiskey vanishes immediately at the sight of their arms locked together. A glacial current now courses through him, replacing the warmth.

Once everyone is seated, the conversation finally resumes, providing a recap of what everyone has been doing since the last time all of them were in the same room together one month ago.

"I'm glad we're finally able to all meet again, sans our team currently overseas on their horcrux search," Kingsley begins. "It has, unfortunately, not been as successful of a month as I had hoped for. There has been limited correspondence from Neville, Dean, and Seamus, but they are doing everything in their power to track down a horcrux. I, myself, have been going through any and all Ministry documents that might relate to Bellatrix in any possible way in an attempt to gain any further insights on her. Regrettably, there has not been much headway in that direction," he says with a grimace. "Potter, Malfoy - you two have been at the heart of all the recent action. What can you update us on?"

Not wanting to be the one to start this conversation, considering his prior little outburst with Ron, Draco looks over to Harry. The invitation for him to start speaking first is clear. With a sigh, Harry begins to recount the events of the past month.

"Well, I think everyone knows that the attack on Glastonbury at the end of July was a pretty clear insight into just how strong this group of Death Eaters is. They have been creating new spells and curses, laced with some of the darkest magic that we've ever seen. Unfortunately, Ron here was on the receiving end of one of those and, well…" Harry's voice trails off slowly, filling with sympathetic pity.

With his elbows leaning on the table, Ron drops his head into his outstretched hands. His fingers gently grip onto the edges of his fiery hair. He doesn't want to see everyone's looks of sadness and pity; feeling their energy is enough for him. Harry's break in the briefing lasts too long, but he doesn't know how to continue talking about it without upsetting his best friend even further.

"We don't know exactly what the curse entailed that is causing the wound to fester and the inability to heal, no matter what healing spells or potions we try to administer. Luckily, if we can even really call it that, it seems to be contained to the initial point of contact where the curse hit him."

At this remark, Hermione sits up straighter and looks at Ron. With his head still in his hands, he can feel her looking at him, but he doesn't move to look back at her.

"Ron…they need to know…"

He groans quietly into his hands before rubbing his face with such a force, as if he's attempting to break out of the skin that he is in.

"We need to know what?" Harry inquires pointedly.

"When I told you that it was staying contained to one spot, that wasn't exactly the truth…" Ron admits quietly.

"What the hell do you mean that wasn't the truth?" Harry seethes. "What is going on with your leg?"

"It's spreading," Ron says shortly.

"It's spreading?"

"That's what I just said, isn't it?" Ron responded, a frigid attitude creeping its way into his voice.

"Why didn't you tell anyone this?" Harry asks, suddenly standing from his seat and slamming his fist onto the table. His voice continues to raise. "We have no idea what this is, or how to heal it, and you didn't think it is important enough to tell us that it's spreading?!"

"I didn't want-"

Harry cuts him off abruptly, a pained expression on his face as he turns to his other best friend, his mop of messy black hair flops into his eyes.

"Hermione, how long have you known about this? How long has this been spreading?" Harry looks at her, eyes pleading with her to tell him that this was a new development. That this isn't as bad as he thinks it is. Unfortunately, she can't give him that.

Not able to look into the depths of the emerald eyes of her best friend as she delivers the opposite of what he's looking for, she looks down into her lap before responding.

"We noticed that it had started to spread a few days after he was cursed."

"You've known about this for four weeks, and neither one of you said anything? Why?" Molly Weasley questions, a sound of hurt and pain that only a mother can express saturates her voice. Arthur wraps an arm around his wife, gently pulling her into his embrace. He reaches one hand up to brush through her graying hair, while his other hand adjusts the wire-rimmed glasses sitting on his face.

"Mum…I didn't want to worry anyone any further," he responded softly. "Hermione and I are working as hard as we can to figure this curse out, and we wanted to wait until we had at least some scrap of information to provide before telling you."

"And if you're never able to find a cure? What were you planning on doing then, huh? Just not saying anything until it's too late and you end up fucking dead?"

"Harry!" both Hermione and Molly exclaim.

George tries to muffle the strangled sob that comes out of him, but is unsuccessful. The loss of Fred is still too fresh in his mind to even consider the potential of losing another brother.

"Okay, okay, everyone take a deep breath," Kingsley chimes in. "Harry, I understand your frustration, but taking it out on him is not going to fix anything. We now know the extent of it, and we'll double our efforts."

Ginny stands to whisper in his ear, hands grabbing his as she gently guides him back down into his seat.

Hermione's eyes quickly shift between Harry, Ron, and Draco, capturing the blonde's attention immediately. She hasn't been the one to be caught looking at him, usually that's the other way around. He watches her slim fingers fiddling together, an anxious habit he recognizes, as her eyes continue to shift between the three wizards.

"I actually had an idea about finding a potential cure," she says, attracting the attention of everyone in the room.

A tidal wave of confusion rolls off of Ron as he studies her. Confusion about why she looks like she is about to spontaneously combust from the vat of nervous energy she is holding deep within herself; confusion about why this is the first time he's hearing about this.

Anxiously curling a strand of hair around her finger, Hermione shifts her attention over to solely focus on Ron. "Please just hear me out on this. I know you're going to object, but I truly believe this is going to be our only option at this point. Please."

Her pleading, caramel colored eyes are locked onto his own bewildered, azure ones. The intensity of the fiddling of her fingers increases as her breathing begins to shorten.

"Yes, of course, love," he immediately takes her hands in his. "Come on now, there's no need for you to feel this nervous to tell me. You're bloody brilliant, Hermione, how could I ever doubt you?"

She looks around, ready to address everyone in the room. Having never seen her exude a nervous demeanor like this before, all of them look at her with the same confusion as Ron. All of them except Draco, that is. Yes, his gaze also holds confusion, but his confusion stems from a completely different origin than it does for everyone else.

"From the research I've done so far, I don't think the answer to a cure lies in the form of either a potion or a counter-curse, but a combination of both. Due to this curse being created with the deepest form of dark magic, I believe that a thorough knowledge of dark magic is needed in order to counter it. A knowledge of dark magic not taught in schools… not easily found in books. We also will need a highly skilled potions master. Ideally, we need someone who can fill both of those roles simultaneously."

As she finishes her thought, her eyes find Draco. Oh, fuck, he thinks. She's talking about me. She wants my help in saving his leg, possibly even his life. Gods, I'd rather just let the weasel die. But of course, Draco doesn't really mean that. Because as much as he would do anything to have the weasel out of the way and for Hermione to be his once again, he would do anything she asked of him - saving another man for her included.

Ron looks back and forth between Hermione and Draco, a horrified look of bewilderment painting his face as he sputters out, "No, absolutely not."

Hermione ignores Ron, not breaking her visual connection with Draco, and asks, "Malfoy, will you help him?" before quietly adding in, "Will you help me?"

Without even a moment's hesitation, eyes boring into hers, he declares, "Of course, Granger."


Author's Note: As always, huge thanks to my creative team.

Alphas: Katie, Cort, & FoxgloveWrites

Betas: MarauderMandy & Hana