Author's Note: This fic contains sexual content and is intended for adult readers.
Hermione didn't make eye contact with Draco when they passed in the Great Hall later that morning at breakfast. She didn't speak to him at the graduation ceremony. She didn't seek him out to say goodbye as she left Hogwarts. She told him she would let him go and that's what she meant. He told her he would remember her and she hoped he would. She knew in her bones she would never be able to forget him. He had left an indelible mark on her, even if no one else would ever know.
After graduation, they both ended up working for the Ministry. Fortunately for her fragile emotions, they didn't work in the same department. Hermione was down in the depths of the Ministry's sub-basements, trying to add a modicum of professionalism to the Department of Magical Creatures. Draco signed on to be an auror, and ended up partnering with Harry, of all people. Ron — Harry's previous partner — had recently left to join George at the joke shop and to his credit, Harry was one of the few people willing to give Draco a shot.
Hermione was proud of Harry for being willing to overlook Draco's past. She did her best not to ask about him — it was still so painful — but Draco's name often came up unprompted whenever she met Harry for lunch or if they got together on the weekends. Thankfully for her own damaged heart, Ron was a bit touchy on the subject. He acted as though he'd been unfairly replaced by Malfoy, completely ignoring the part where he had already left the Department for his own reasons. Consequently, Harry kept his Draco-related anecdotes short when they were all together. It was probably for the best, even though Hermione secretly treasured every nugget of information that came her way.
Malfoy had passed basic training with scores that equaled Harry's own. Both of them had put Ron's efforts to shame, which only added to the redhead's jealousy of the newly minted blond auror. Hermione was glad Draco was doing well and she was immensely grateful that Harry was his partner — she knew Harry would look out for him, even without Hermione having to ask. Harry and Draco would keep each other safe.
To distract herself, Hermione tried to focus her attention on her other friends. She had set up Ron with Daphne Greengrass, of all people. Daphne had approached Hermione at the start of eighth year and the two started up a tentative friendship during school, which had only really blossomed after graduation. The pureblood Slytherin was exceedingly kind and she had a fondness for Muggles and Muggle items that Hermione found highly endearing. Arthur was going to adore her.
The Daily Prophet announced Draco's betrothal to Astoria Greengrass two months after he had completed basic training. Hermione sat at the table in her small flat, ignoring her rapidly cooling breakfast, while she looked at the photo for twenty solid minutes. She felt like she could scarcely breathe. She had never asked him who he was betrothed to, preferring not to sully their night with information that would only make her sad. So while it was a shock, it was not exactly a surprise. The picture was of the two of them on the grounds at Malfoy Manor. Astoria was beautiful, of course, like her sister. Blonde, thin, and elegant, she looked every bit the perfect pureblood princess that a wizard like Draco Malfoy was always supposed to marry. Hermione looked down at the old quidditch jersey of Harry's that she had slept in, and sighed as she twisted her voluminous curls back into a messy bun, using her wand to secure it, before she mechanically ate her ice-cold breakfast.
Draco looked miserable in the photos. He had a perfunctory smile, but his eyes looked dead. Hermione had no idea how Astoria truly felt about their situation — she had no baseline to read the younger witch's expressions — but her smile was at least more convincing than Draco's. Hopefully they would find a way to be happy in their marriage, since the marriage itself was inevitable. Hermione didn't want Draco to be miserable. Not really. What she really wanted was for him to be with her. Failing that, she'd like him to be happy enough with someone else. As happy as he could be in the circumstances.
But damn if she didn't hope that the memory of their single night together burned in him as much as it burned in her.
Over the next several months, they occasionally ran into each other in the Ministry building. The first time she made eye contact with him in the lobby after the news of his betrothal broke, she felt sick to her stomach and had to excuse herself from the conversation she was having with Harry, lest he see her break down. After that, Hermione made sure to avoid meeting Draco's eyes, resting her gaze on his chin when she had to feign an appropriate greeting. They would give each other polite, distant nods or murmured greetings. People seemed to assume they didn't get along which was probably for the best. No one pushed her to be friendlier to him on the odd time they happened to be in the same room, much to her relief.
Daphne and Ron seemed to work amazingly well together. Hermione wouldn't be surprised to see the pair go the distance. Which in the future, meant that Ron could become Draco's brother-in-law. Hermione had started her efforts to connect Daphne and Ron before she became aware of the identity of Draco's intended, and it was too late for her to back out once she had discovered Draco was marrying Daphne's little sister. Also, Daphne and Ron were a good match and she didn't want her own heartbreak to interfere with something that could be good for two people she cared about. But every time her brain reminded her that Ron Weasley might achieve a permanent place in Draco Malfoy's life while she was forever shut out, she had to tamp down the urge to burst out into hysterical laughter or tears. Or both.
It depended on her mood.
They all saw each other at the Ministry's Yule Ball. Hermione went alone, wearing a sweeping satin gown that was emerald green, thank you very much. Not Slytherin green, as had been suggested by Ronald. Harry was with Ginny, Daphne was with Ron, and Draco was with Astoria. Hermione spent the night making the rounds with dignitaries and talking to the Heads of Departments she didn't get a chance to interact with on a regular basis. She did not — could not — seek him out, but on the occasions he was in her line of sight, more often than not she caught him looking at her with a burning intensity.
Still, she did not talk to him. She did not look at him except in passing. She did not stand near him, so she could pretend she was standing with him, no matter how great the temptation was to do so.
She had told him she would leave him alone forever after their one night, and Hermione Granger was a woman of her word.
The months passed quickly after Christmas. Draco was making quite the name for himself as an auror, having an impressive arrest record for the department as a whole, never mind for someone who was still a rookie. His exploits were frequently reported in The Daily Prophet, although he never gave them a quote. The tenor of the press involving Draco had changed over the months. The pieces began as mocking and dismissive, taking care to always mention that he had been marked as a Death Eater himself before joining the ministry to fight against dark wizards; before slowly moving to neutral and eventually shifting into actual positive coverage.
The Prophet's new attitude towards Draco Malfoy (and the society's interest in him changing from despised villain to reformed hero) meant there was suddenly great public appetite for coverage about his upcoming wedding. It made Hermione's heart hurt to see it so frequently. It was usually on the front page, so she couldn't really avoid it even if tried very hard and it weighed on her. In an effort to compensate, she withdrew from the world as much as possible; making her way from her flat to her office and then back again, trying to do so without encountering another soul. Crookshanks and her books were her only company.
She also developed something of a dependency on Draught of Dreamless Sleep. Otherwise, her dreams were either a nightmarish vision of his wedding where she was forced to perform the charm marrying them herself or variations of her actual memories from their one night together. Honestly, she couldn't tell which was worse. Whichever route her subconscious went, it hurt her to her very soul and she was profoundly affected upon waking. So no more dreams for her, not until she managed to achieve some sort of emotional resolution from this — which seemed unlikely to occur until sometime after he was married. So for the foreseeable future she would be taking potions to get her through the night.
Just until it was safe for her to dream.
Harry, Ginny, and Ron were worried about her. Daphne too, although she was probably the last person Hermione could talk to about this mess, save for perhaps Astoria herself. She brushed off Harry when he came to find her at work, telling him she just had a couple of very important projects on the go and she was just trying to focus on her work for the time being. He reluctantly left her at her desk. Evidently she had not been convincing enough, because the next Saturday he and Ginny surprised her by arriving unannounced through her floo in the middle of the afternoon.
"We're staging an intervention, 'Mione. Either tell us what's up or you're coming for dinner at the Burrow with us tonight. Actually, scratch that, you're coming out with us regardless. My parents miss you desperately." Ginny's tone was scolding, but her face showed real concern.
Hermione sighed and looked down at her hands. "There's nothing to tell."
"Bullshit," said Harry, far more sharply than he normally spoke to her. "You are avoiding everyone and you're spending every waking moment at work or alone in your flat. Your department head told me you aren't even leaving for lunch anymore, that you only eat at your desk — when you remember to eat at all. You look unwell, Hermione. We are all very worried about you."
"Did you investigate me, Harry?" she said, her voice like acid. Meddling prat. Who did he think he was, talking to her boss about her?
"Yes." Harry was completely unapologetic. "That's what I do when someone I love is in crisis and not telling me why." He caught sight of her now trembling lip, and Harry's expression softened, his voice becoming coaxing. "Hermione, please tell us what's wrong. Maybe we can help." Ginny stood just behind his shoulder, nodding her agreement.
"You can't! No one can." And Hermione burst into tears.
Soon Hermione was enfolded in a hug by her two best friends and she was sobbing as months of restrained emotions came bursting out of her. At some point they ended up on her couch and her tears started to subside. When she was calmer, Ginny gently took her hand. "Hermione, you have to tell us something."
"I promised that no one would ever know. So you two are out of luck."
"Did you swear on your magic? If not, then you can tell us fine."
"That's not how it works, Ginny."
"What if we swear on our magic not to tell your secret? Would that suffice?"
Hermione considered. Technically, she had only said 'no one has to know,' which wasn't exactly the same as a promise. But she had meant it as a promise when she said it to him. On the other hand, she wasn't coping well. Actually, she wasn't coping at all. She ran her hand through her curls. She was reluctant to admit that she needed help, even when that help was being offered by people she knew loved her and only had her best interests at heart. Needing help felt like failure, but so did falling apart. And she had been doing that for weeks now and Hermione Jean Granger didn't tolerate failure well. She looked down at her shaking hands and decided to let her friends in.
"Fine. You both have to promise you will not tell another soul. And I mean it. On your magic, as you said Ginevra." Harry and Ginny exchanged worried glances, but neither hesitated to swear the oath. Hermione let out a deep sigh. "Draco and I slept together our last night at Hogwarts."
"I knew it!" Ginny shouted, jumping off of the couch.
"What?" Harry looked stunned.
"We — we got close over that last year at school. And then in April he kissed, well, he snogged me in the back of the Potions lab after we finished up our project. And then he didn't talk to me again, until the night of the grad party. That's when he told me he was betrothed. That he didn't want it, but he couldn't get out of it. His father magically compelled him to marry one specific person when he was five, Harry. It's completely outrageous that the practice is legal at all!" Her voice rose with her anger at the injustice of it all. Fucking pure-bloods and their bloody barbaric customs.
She took a small breath and focused on speaking without shouting. "Anyway, he apologised for kissing me and wanted me to know that if he had a choice, he would have chosen me. I told him he could choose me for the night, and then we'd never see each other again."
"Hot," said Ginny, sounding impressed. Harry elbowed her and glared at her to be silent. He then nodded at Hermione to continue.
"So we, um, slept together and that was it. We haven't interacted since, except where we've been in the same place at the same time and had to like, nod at each other. He's getting married — soon — and I'm not dealing with it very well. And I just can't handle all of the press about it — it's like there's no escape unless I'm home by myself."
"I told you he was eye-fucking her at the Yule Ball! Didn't I tell you, Harry?"
Harry sighed. "Yes, Ginny, you told me. Do you — ah, do you love him, Hermione?"
"Yes." Hermione spoke in a small, broken voice. "Not that it matters."
Harry was silent for a beat, considering. "Did he tell you he loved you?"
"No. We were pretty deliberately not talking about our feelings, Harry. We were just taking one night to pretend to be what we both wanted, before we said goodbye forever. It was hard enough without saying that out loud, Jesus fucking Christ."
Harry flinched. Ginny patted her shoulder in consolation.
"He loves you, 'Mione. Of that I'm certain," said Harry.
"Harry, don't. You didn't even know about us until I told you five minutes ago. How could you possibly know that?" Hermione spat out.
"Hermione, he kind of lost it when I told him I was worried about you."
"Why did you talk to him about me?" she asked, her voice sounding shrill even to her own ears.
What the fuck, Harry?
"Literally just making conversation about the weekend!" Harry said, defensively. "He asked about my plans and I told him you were having a hard time so we were going to try to get you to spill what was up. He made me promise to make sure you were okay. It was literally the most emotion I've seen him display in the year we've been partners. And we've, ah, been in some intense situations over the past year."
Harry sighed and looked at Hermione with serious eyes. "Draco is always sad. Always. Not just uncommunicative, although he very much is that too. At first I didn't even realise how off it was, until I mentioned it to Ginny and she told me how he'd really lightened up and become more relaxed during your last year. Before I talked to Ginny about it, I had thought it was just who he was now, because it was what he was like in our sixth year. But the thing that has worried me the most, is that he always volunteers for the most dangerous missions. All of the time."
Hermione sat up, fear hitting her straight in the gut. She worried about him and Harry, of course. They had a dangerous job. But she wasn't aware that Draco was apparently intentionally making it even more dangerous. What the hell was he playing at?
"It's gotten so bad the Department has brought in the mind healers to check that he's of sound mind. He's never reckless in the field, Hermione," Harry said quickly, seeing her about to explode at the revelation that Draco was apparently courting death at every opportunity, for fuck's sake. She'd much prefer to see him alive and married to someone else, than to have to think about him being dead. "He's extremely competent, but he chooses the most difficult and dangerous assignment every time. It's like he's got a death wish. Admittedly, it's a tightly restrained death wish, but still."
Hermione did not like the sound of this one bit. "I can't do anything about this! Aside from the fact that we agreed to one night before going our separate ways, regardless of how I feel about it — or how he feels about it — he's marrying another witch in three weeks. Daphne's little sister!" Hermione was struck with a terrible thought. "Oh God, Ron's going to be at that wedding, isn't he?" The look on Ginny's face confirmed her suspicions. Hermione felt sick.
"That's the thing, Hermione. He's not remotely looking forward to his wedding. It comes up all the time, with people congratulating him and the like, and mostly he just looks sick about it. Kind of like you look now, actually."
Hermione glared at Harry. "He wasn't happy about it before, either. I get the impression that regardless of his feelings for me or Astoria, he would have liked to have been given an opportunity to plan out his own life. For once," she said poisonously. She hated Lucius Malfoy. She fucking hated him. She would forever despise that man for what he had done to Draco. For what he kept doing to Draco.
"I don't see any avenues where it's appropriate for me to do anything. But you have to stop letting him throw himself in harm's way, Harry. If he dies — " Hermione's voice broke on a sob. "I don't know what I'll do, but I will not handle it well. Likely catastrophically so."
Ginny gave her a hug and Harry patted her on the back awkwardly. They stayed with her until her tears were all gone, and then brought her to the Burrow for dinner, just as Ginny had threatened. "You need to be with your family, love." Ginny told her kindly, as Harry nodded. Hermione sighed and got dressed in something slightly less scruffy, before petting Crookshanks on the head as she left.
She hadn't felt like making dinner anyway.
As Draco's wedding approached, the Daily Prophet's fawning coverage only increased. What Hermione wouldn't give to live in a world that had magic, but also more than a handful of families notorious enough to be 'famous,' just for the sake of sheer variety in the bloody news. Even if she was genuinely happy for the couple, three separate articles about the prospective floral arrangements seemed like more attention than the actual bride should be giving it, let alone the rest of wizarding society. Hermione knew it wasn't done on purpose to torture her, but it certainly felt like it.
By the next weekend, she'd had it. Hermione was at her absolute limit on details she could not avoid learning against her volition about Draco Malfoy's upcoming wedding to not-her. She formed a plan, booked off work and rented for a small cottage in the south of France for a vacation abroad. She had booked it for two weeks — making sure she was out of the country for the week before and the week after Draco's wedding, hoping to save herself from the worst of the press coverage. She let Ginny and Harry know her plans, and when the time was right, she portkeyed out of the country, with one last look in the direction of Wiltshire as she left.
The cottage was nice. It was quiet, in the countryside and there was no one else around for miles, so no one could come upon her and forcibly subject her to details about the Greengrass-Malfoy wedding. She set up wards to keep away anyone with hostile intentions and then started working on the knitting projects she had brought with her, spelling her book to float in front of her so she could read while she knit. She drank too much wine with dinner. The next day, she spent some time riding a bike around the area, before realising that she was a bit too hungover for it to be enjoyable. She counted down each day like she was waiting for her own execution. As it got closer, she started counting the hours.
She hated the fucking clock on the wall so much.
On the day before his wedding, Hermione decided she was not going to drink with dinner anymore. The temptation for it to become a truly poor coping mechanism was too high. The morning of his wedding, she tried to reread her favourite novels. Her brain was too tangled to tackle any of the new books she brought with her. But even her comfort books were of no help. She paced around the small cabin. She didn't know when the ceremony was taking place exactly — not for lack of trying on the part of the fucking Daily Prophet, she thought bitterly — but she assumed that by the time it was five o'clock in the evening, he would already be married.
Five o'clock came and went. She sat down at the couch, curled up under a blanket, and cried.
A couple of hours later, with rain steadily drizzling outside, Hermione heard a frantic knock on her door. She swore underneath her breath as she walked towards it, taking down her wards as she moved. "Harry, for the love of Merlin, I told you to just leave me alone for two consecutive weeks."
She opened the door and saw a breathless Draco Malfoy, in an absolutely drenched cloak, looking at her as intensely as he had that last night at Hogwarts.
"Do you still love me?" he blurted out, looking at her frantically, his eyes searching her face.
"Dra — Malfoy, how did you find me?" she squeaked out in surprise. "Aren't you supposed to be at your own wedding right now?" Maybe she was hallucinating.
"Ginny and Harry told me where you were. I went to them to find out where your flat was and they told me you skipped the country."
Draco entered her cottage and Hermione's heart began to pulsate so rapidly that it felt like it was going to beat out her chest. "What happened?" she asked.
"You happened, Granger. You happened. I haven't stopped thinking of you — of us, of what we could fucking be — ever since that night at Hogwarts. Everywhere I went, the memories of you – of us together – followed me. It was as if you were haunting me."
Hermione looked at him, wide-eyed and blinking as she tried to recall her initial query in the face of him being here with her, looking at her with such adoration, on today of all days. "I — I meant with your wedding, Draco. You were supposed to be getting married today," she repeated, confusion warring with elation in her heart.
"Oh, the wedding happened. Followed almost immediately by a divorce."
"What?!" Hermione felt her legs collapse beneath her and she sat down on the couch hard. Draco sat down next to her.
"I'm a divorced man, Granger. Probably the happiest divorced man that ever lived. It was Astoria's idea and it was brilliant . She didn't want to be married to me any more than I wanted to be married to her. About a month ago, she got sick of me looking miserable whenever we were forced to be together and she just asked me if I wanted to marry her. Contrary to all of my upbringing, I told her the actual truth and all of a sudden I had an ally. So we started looking at the betrothal contract together. The agreement meant we were magically compelled to marry, but nothing said we had to stay married. And since the marriage was never consummated, the unbinding charm was possible. Easy even. We married, fulfilling what the blood magic required and nullifying the betrothal arrangement, and then we had Theo undo the marriage on the way to the reception, told our parents and left. There was a bit of an uproar over at the Manor, but they can hang for all I care."
Hermione's eyes moved rapidly, searching his face as she tried to take in everything he was telling her. "What about Astoria? Is she going to be okay?" Hermione was surprised to find how quickly Astoria's well-being had become something very important to her, Merlin bless that witch.
"She'll be fine. I gave her the entirety of the Black vaults that I inherited from my grandparents. And she's free from her parents' influence now, as a divorced witch. I got the impression that she was fleeing the country to find her own first choice. So I will ask you again, Hermione. Do you still love me?"
"I never stopped loving you," she said in a whisper. Draco's hands reached forward and he seized her head through her curls, bringing her into a searing kiss. Hermione moaned and his tongue slipped in when she gave him the opening. She whimpered and fisted her hands in his shirt, dragging him closer to him, kissing him with all the desperation of someone who had lost all hope, only to be reunited with their lost love. They broke their kiss, but stayed in their shared embrace, their foreheads touching as they caught their breaths. "How did you know that I loved you?" If she had thought he could hear her, she wouldn't have said anything.
"I was only pretending to be asleep. I didn't want you to kick me out and I could not bear to leave you. So I heard you. And it has echoed in my mind every waking moment since. Merlin, Granger, I have missed you so much."
"I've missed you too. It's why I had to flee the country, to escape hearing about your bloody wedding plans. Draco, I love you—" Her words were cut off as he kissed her again, and soon they were snogging like they were back in the Potions lab.
Or by the lake.
Or in her room that last night.
On the couch in her rented cottage in France, on what was still technically his wedding day, Draco kissed her long and slow, removing her shirt and sweater as he whispered apologies into her skin — for what he put her through over the past year. She shook her head through her tears, none of this was his fault. And it had been hard on both of them.
He cupped her breasts with his hands, his thumbs flicking over her nipples as he kissed her neck. Hermione groaned, tilting her head backwards, unable to believe where this night had taken her. She put her hand on his chest, across his heart, as she spoke. "Can I keep you?" she whispered, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice.
Draco drew back, sweeping her curls away from her face, forcing her to look in his eyes. "Oh, you are never getting rid of me. I am yours forever, Granger. Please say you'll be mine."
"I'm yours, Draco. I don't think I've ever been anyone else's — not in any way that mattered," she gave him a small smile through her tears. He leaned forward, wiping away her tears. They started kissing again, softly at first as Draco tried to reassure her of his presence and his love. The intensity of their touches grew quickly. Hermione shifted her legs so she was astride his lap, grinding down against his rigid length. She whimpered and Draco let out a low growl, biting her lip.
He moved his hand across her back and then swung her around so she was laying on her back beneath him on the couch. He backed off far enough to start undoing her pants, before slowly sliding them down her legs. Her knickers soon followed. He never broke eye contact with her as he shed his own clothes. After they were both naked, Draco sighed in contentment as he lifted her legs above his shoulders and settled in between her thighs.
"You should know that I love your cunt, Granger. I have dreamed of nothing else since we were together." He paused and leaned forward to lick the entirety of her slit twice before coming back to circle her clit with his tongue. She whimpered and he raised his head to speak again. "I want to live here, Granger. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist — with your permission of course — that I wake you up like this each morning."
Hermione blushed at his words and her pulse quickened even more with her steadily rising desire. She licked her lips. "Well, maybe not every morning. That seems excessive. But I'm certainly prepared to negotiate a generous and flexible schedule for you." She smirked lightly, moving her hand forward to sweep his hair away from his forehead.
He snorted. "So merciful," he murmured and then went back to spending his time languorous between her thighs. Soon Hermione was gripping his hair as she came, grinding her hips into his face. "Fuck, Draco," she gasped, as his hand came up to her breast, kneading and massaging, lightly pinching at her nipple.
After Hermione stopped twitching, Draco raised his head to face her, looking smug and dishevelled, his mouth glistening from her pleasure.
He was simply the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
"Now?" he asked. She nodded her agreement. Hermione was very eager for him to be inside her again and she assumed Draco felt the same sense of urgency. They could slow down over the days and weeks ahead. Or not. Honestly, if he'd just bent her over the couch and shagged her as soon as the words 'divorced' left his mouth, that would have been alright by her too.
"Yes. Now."
Draco had his errection in hand, stroking it twice, priming himself for her. He lined himself up in her folds, teasing her clit first with the head of his cock as she moaned. But then he froze. Hermione looked at him anxiously. "Draco?" she asked, a concerned expression on her face.
Draco swallowed roughly, backing away slightly and putting his hands on her knees before looking her in the eye. "I, um —Hermione. I haven't been with anyone else since we were together, but I want you to know that I will be okay if you have. I have no right to expect otherwise."
As if she didn't want to fuck him enough already. Being respected like that was such a turn-on. Hermione rushed to allay his concerns.
"Draco. I've been with no one since you. I couldn't. And I very much didn't want to. It honestly never occurred to me to try." Her eyes filled with tears.
Draco leaned forward and kissed her, slowly, like they had all the time in the world. "I love you, Hermione. I love you so fucking much."
"I love you Draco. I have for so long. I don't know if I could ever stop loving you." Not even if he'd been married in truth.
Hermione Granger loved Draco Malfoy and there was nothing that could change that simple immutable fact.
"Draco, I —" He kissed her mid-sentence, eagerly pulling her closer to him as he put his hands on either side of her head, holding her as his tongue explored her mouth. He bent her over backwards on the couch again and Hermione writhed beneath him, feeling his erection rub against her soft lower belly. She whimpered. Draco drew back with a smirk and readied his cock, sliding into position before starting to slide deep within her.
It had indeed been awhile and she thought she might have been better prepared the first time they did this. The stretch had a bit of sting to it and she willed her internal muscles to relax, to get past the slightly intrusive feel of him, and soon the glide of his cock along her inner walls sent her quivering in a lust-induced haze. Draco groaned as he bottomed out in her throbbing cunt, his hips coming to rest flush against hers. He stilled — allowing her body a moment to finish adjusting to his presence. "Hermione, I'm going to start moving, okay?"
"Yes, please Draco."
He shuddered as he started thrusting into her slowly, purposefully. She revelled in it. She had recalled every moment of their single night at Hogwarts and this felt just as amazing as her oft-recalled memories. Only now instead of curating her own heartbreak as it was happening, this time she had hope. This time, she had him and the promise of keeping him afterwards.
"God, Draco I love you," she managed to choke out, her body trembling on the couch under the force of his thrusts and her own overwhelming desire for this man.
"Hermione, fuck. I love you, too." He leaned forward and kissed her before leaning back and increasing the pace of his thrusts. "I am never going to let you go, witch. Never again. It's you and me until the end of time now."
Hermione felt herself clench tightly around Draco's thrusting erection as his words tipped her over the edge and she fell off the precipice into her second orgasm of the night. She screamed — she was too incoherent at that moment for her mouth to form his actual name. Although her yell, moan, whatever might have started with a 'd' sound. She couldn't recall. It was possible she had just briefly blacked out, the orgasm was that intense. Her legs were still trembling when she became cognizant of her surroundings again. Draco stopped and ran his hands up and down her thighs, until she stopped twitching. Then he withdrew and sat back, next to her. "On your knees, Granger."
Hermione shivered as she forced her limbs to comply. She got into position, shivering as she bent her elbows so her back was on an incline, her arse displayed before him — only to have Draco roughly take her hips in his hands as he pushed his rigid length into her dripping cunt. She yelped at the suddenness, and it quickly turned into a moan as she began to rut back into him, trying to meet his thrusts with resistance so he was slamming even harder into her. Fuck she hoped she felt this for days afterwards. She didn't want to spend one minute of the day without a physically ever-present reminder that this was real and Draco was in her life and she wasn't just imagining things to a degree that perhaps Harry and Ginny should be calling St. Mungos about her.
Draco put his hand on her — in between her shoulder blades — and pushed her down even further, changing the angle of her hips and allowing him to slide in deeper. Hermione whimpered into the couch and Draco quickened his pace, muttering a mix of endearments and epitaphs until his thrusts stuttered and he came, hitting deep inside as he orgasmed, his lips pressed against her shoulder, almost soundlessly chanting that he loved her. Almost soundless. Almost, but not quite. If he hadn't basically been in her ear, she never would have heard him.
"Draco?"
"Yes, Granger?"
"I love you too," she answered, smiling at him. Draco moved fast and she quickly found herself sitting on his lap on the couch, his arms around her. He wrapped the blanket — which had fallen to the floor when she went to get the door — around them both, ensuring she was well tucked in before speaking to her further.
When he did speak, his voice was quiet and intent. "Over this past year I promised myself that if I was ever in a position where I could say that to you, that I would say it — every time I felt the urge. Every time I thought it. Every time you made me fall in love with you just a little bit more, I would just say it. Because I love you, Hermione Jean Granger. With everything that I am and everything that I will ever be."
Hermione buried her face on his chest and wept as he held her, sniffling and whispering that she loved him too — over and over again.
It was an emotional night. In the small cottage in the south of France, now that they were finally unfettered by the past, there was laughter, tears, whispered promises, fevered moans, and heartfelt oaths uttered in complete darkness, whispered into their skin.
Hermione had never been happier.
In the pre-dawn light, as they lay entwined in each other's arms, Hermione asked Draco, "What did your parents say? About your divorce?" Hermione wondered if they knew about her but decided she wasn't quite ready to ask. Draco had chosen her after all — their opinion of the matter was largely immaterial.
"Oh they are furious. Lucius has cut me off from the family vaults. Said he never wants to see me again. But he had no control over the Black vaults once I turned seventeen, so he didn't realise I had them transferred to Astoria yesterday."
"Why give her that?" Not that Hermione objected, but she was curious as to why he had given her nearly all of the galleons he had at his disposal.
"The divorce was her idea, but it would have left her with fewer options than me. I have my auror's salary, which is more than enough for me to live on. My parents have no control over me now as an adult, now that the bullshit legacy betrothal contract is behind me. I'll be fine. I won't ever be living in a manor again, but I don't fucking care about that. Tori just got out of school and was never raised with the expectation that she would have to support herself. It was going to be far more difficult for her, so this way she's protected too. She gave me my freedom — unlike the binding charm, the unbinding required her consent. I would have given her everything I owned. My inheritance from the Black side of the family was nothing compared to what I gained — the ability to be with the witch I love."
He smiled at her, his hand caressing the side of her face. Hermione leaned into it, closing her eyes, unable to believe he was free and with her. She smiled back at him as she dragged him in for another kiss.
Two days after Draco arrived, Hermione received an owl from Harry, along with a copy of the previous day's Daily Prophet. Harry's accompanying letter was brief:
Hopefully you aren't alone, but even if you are I'm pretty sure this one is of particular interest to you. Love you, Hermione. Talk to you when you get back.
The Daily Prophet's front page was pictures of Astoria Malfoy, now Astoria Nott, grinning widely while standing next to her new husband, Theo. Hermione was initially concerned about Draco's reaction. But he had only burst into laughter when she showed it to him, actually bending forward and holding his sides for a few minutes, until his laughter subsided long enough for him to wipe the tears from his eyes.
"Oh, well played Theo! He's broke — or rather, he was broke. His father disinherited him before he was killed in the battle — all of the galleons and properties went to a distant cousin who was a proper bigot somewhere in Romania, I think. Theo's been alternating between living with Blaise and myself for the last year. Glad to see he can afford his own place again!" He grinned, still chuckling. It was clear he wasn't bothered by this new development in the least.
"Is your inheritance enough to keep them both living in comfort?" Hermione asked, not sure if she liked the idea of Theo swindling Draco out of something was properly his, but if Draco didn't care then Hermione didn't see any reason why she should get upset about it. Like Draco had said last night, his freedom was worth so much more than gold.
"Oh, it is. He didn't tell me any of this, which, in retrospect, is not surprising. I can't imagine being in love with your best friend's future wife was a fun position for him to be in. Guess I know why he was so happy when I asked him to perform the unbinding charm." Draco almost seemed impressed with Theo. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Bloody Slytherins. "I guess we're going to get to see Astoria in the future, seeing how she's now my best friend's wife. I think you'd really like her, Granger."
"Oh, I already love her." Hermione said sincerely. "They look so happy in this picture and her dress is so lovely. Plus if she's anything like her sister, she might just be my new best friend. Imagine what the press is going to say about that?"
"Oh, I'm sure they'll be respectful," he said sarcastically, before looking at her intently and continuing. "And Granger, speaking of dresses, at the Yule Ball last year? Did you wear that dress for me?"
Hermione blushed and couldn't meet his eyes. He caught her off guard with the abrupt change of subject, and she didn't have a proper lie ready to go. "Green is one of two recognized Christmas colours, Draco," she muttered defensively.
Draco looked pleased at her blush. "So it was for me," he said, satisfied. He also looked smug. Arse.
"I thought I looked nice in it, that's all." She wasn't able to stop blushing as he looked down at her with his arms crossed over his chest and a single incredulous eyebrow raised. "Alright, damn it! The thought that you might take more notice of me if I wore green may have crossed my mind. Happy?" It was the most she was willing to admit.
Draco snorted. "It is not possible for me to take more notice of you than I already do, Hermione. Every time I saw you in passing over the past year all I could see in my mind's eye was you tangled up in bedsheets next to me. The only thing your dress did was change the mental imagery I have of you in my wildest dreams to feature green satin sheets instead of the standard Hogwarts' issue."
Hermione looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip before getting out her wand and transfiguring the sheets in the cottage's bed across the room to a green satin. She turned back to him, her eyes full of mischief.
He growled, threw her over his shoulder as she squealed, marched her over to the bed and set about making both of their dreams come true.
"Ready for this?" Draco asked Hermione just over a week later, smoothing an errant curl away from her brow.
"So ready for this," she looked up at him, smiling broadly.
He threw the floo powder to the ground, "Ministry of Magic," he uttered in an authoritative tone. After the rush of travel, they stepped out of the floo hand in hand. Draco gave her hand a little squeeze, which she returned, grinning at him happily. They walked into the lobby proper and made their way to the lifts. As expected, they did not get too far before they were stopped.
"Auror Malfoy! Auror Malfoy! Care to comment about your divorce? And your ex-wife's surprise remarriage to your best man, Theo Nott?" The reporter had his notepad out as he shouted questions at Draco, with the accompanying photographer already furiously snapping pictures of them both. The reporter looked down, saw their still clasped hands and raised an eyebrow. "And care to comment as to why you are holding hands with Hermione Granger?"
Draco smirked at her before clearing his throat and turning to the hectoring wizard to respond. "Actually, I would like to comment. I wish Astoria and Theo great joy in their union. I'm very happy for them both."
"And about Miss Granger?" The reporter was practically salivating at the two of them, with a mad gleam in his eyes as they roved to their hands and back to Draco's face.
"It's actually Mrs. Granger-Malfoy." Draco leaned forward and gave Hermione an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth, with the camera flashes going off behind her closed eyes, as she smiled underneath his lips. "And I'm just seeing my wife off before the work day starts, mate."
And with that, they ignored the uproar from the crowd that had started to assemble around them and entered the lift, off to start living their life in the manner of their own choosing. Together.
It felt so good to be able to dream again.