A/N: Written for the lovely Shamione's birthday, I hope it's a mix of all the things you like.
Plus who isn't up for a bit of thank fuck we're alive smut?
Betaing thanks go to Charlie9646, and JessiRomatic who whipped my arse and made me add all the angst and feels, and a whole bloody scene, love you boo.
There is are graphic depictions of violence in this fic.
It was a building he didn't even know they owned; he had heard talks of the existence of Twelve Grimmauld Place after his cousin Sirius died in his Fifth year. That was a building his mum had always feared, ever since she was young. According to his father, the building now belonged to him, the last male heir of the Most Ancient House of Black.
What he didn't know, and what his father also didn't know, was that the Black family had a house on the cliffs in Kent. However, his mum took him to the family estate after what felt like the millionth Crucio session from the Dark Lord only because he didn't comply with his orders. Orders he simply didn't know how to comply with.
After one particularly excruciating session, the look on his mum's face had said it all. It was simply too much and before he could utter a single word, she Apparated them here.
She nursed him back to health, just as she had done so many times before. And when he finally wasn't bedridden anymore, he walked around the house and surrounding grounds. It was clear as day that this had once been a beautiful estate built in the Georgian style. However, it was also clear it hadn't been lived in or adequately taken care of for many generations. The staircase was a shadow of its former self; dark wood bannister all but gone in favour of twining vines. On the grounds, the once neat French gardens were overgrown with weeds and the fountains were crumbling shells of their erstwhile grandeur.
The garden, in fact, the entire estate, was peaceful. Like no dark magic had ever touched this place, let alone called it home. Walking through the grounds felt like a breath of fresh air after the decade spent in fear living with darkness itself in Malfoy Manor.
He could've spent the rest of the war there, safely put away in the South-East corner of England. However, something inside of him prevented Draco from doing just that. He wouldn't be able to rest in his own peace and happiness until those more deserving found theirs. That was why he contacted Blaise. Over the years, he had heard numerous rumours that his schoolmate had changed sides. And Draco thought his years inside of the Dark Lord's compound could provide valuable information for the Order.
"I thought you died," Blaise sat down in the small living room in the guard's house on the Western side of the estate. Just to be safe, Draco had covered the main house with the Fidelius charm. To Blaise, it looked like even more of a ruin than it already was.
"I could say the same about you," Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He wasn't sure what gave him more discomfort: the chair or the atmosphere in the room.
"Fair point," Blaise conceded, "I must say I'm glad to see you out of that hell hole, with all limbs attached." Dark eyes flitted around the room, pausing momentarily on the ruins of the Estate he could see through the small window on his left.
"I'm glad you've managed to keep yourself alive. You're not particularly loved on both sides of this wretched war." Draco drew his friends eyes back on him, afraid if the other man looked at the ruins too long the charm would falter.
"Oh, don't you worry, Draco, I'm loved," The grin on Blaise's face said more than Draco would ever want to know about his friend. "So why did you call me here, to this," his sharp gaze darted about his surroundings once more, disgust evident on his face, "place."
"I think I could offer the other side information, and I've heard through the grapevine that you run a business in buying and selling valuable information."
"That's correct," Blaise acknowledged. "However," he drawled in a contemplative tone, "how do I know this isn't some kind of ploy by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? I know we once were schoolmates, friends, even. But, Draco, I don't think I've seen you in what? Seven years?"
"Do I need to show you my scars for you to believe that bastard has done enough evil, for me to reconsider my allegiances?" Draco sneered.
"Could help," Blaise shrugged.
Draco let out a frustrated groan.
"I think I could, however, verify your intentions with less nakedness and soul-bearing if I could just let my business partner come along?"
"Sure."
"Luna, dear, it's safe! You can come out now!" Blaise cheerfully called out.
A platinum blonde mane of curls appeared next to Blaise's armchair out of nowhere.
"Fuck! I thought I explicitly said this meeting would be just the two of us," Draco exclaimed.
"The first lesson in a war, my friend; do not trust anyone, especially not old school friends you haven't seen in years. You honestly can't blame me for wanting to bring back up."
Draco wholeheartedly laughed. "She's your back up?"
"You've definitely not been out there long enough. I saw her slice up Death Eaters with just the flick of her wand, just last week?" Blaise looked up at the blonde standing next to him in pure adoration.
"Well, Luna, dear," Blaise started, "what do you think about our guest?"
Draco wanted to cut in and chastise Blaise for calling him a guest in his own home. However, Blaise didn't know this was part of Draco's estate. And for now, it was better if he kept it that way.
"There's a tinge of darkness," Luna walked over to him, circling his armchair to better observe every move he made. "But it seemed to be just at the outskirts of his aura," she paused, wide blue eyes unnerving and Draco was sure she was looking into his very soul. Eventually, she turned to the man beside her who had been watching her intently. "I think he's fine, dear."
"Well, you're good to go," Blaise finally tore his gaze from Luna, looking Draco in the eye once more. "Give up that information."
"The Dark Lord-'' Draco began, before flinching at the look of disappointment on the face of the man across from him., "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rarely leaves the Manor anymore. It's impossible to slay him." Draco started, "Unless the Order depletes his force in such a way, and he must leave the Manor to keep the fight going. And if he doesn't the building wouldn't be protected any more and the Order could just raid it and end him that way."
"And what is your role in this?" Luna asked curiously.
"I was a lieutenant in the intelligence branch. I know what logics the Death Eaters use to find spots for raids," Draco explained.
"Are you willing to do the same thing for the other side of the war?" Luna demanded. Draco had suspicions that she had a bigger link with the order than Blaise.
"If they can guarantee my mum and me safety, everything can be negotiated."
"Even secret Black properties?"
There are more? Draco thought, trying to hide his surprise. Luckily he could catch the words before they slipped off his tongue. "There are secret Black properties?"
"We found a ledger in one of the buildings we've been staying in," Luna stated. Blaise still sat quietly, observing the woman while she cross-examined Draco.
"I've been squarely rooted in my Malfoy heritage for the last 20 plus years of my life. But I guess I could ask my mother."
"We'll reconvene with the other party in this negotiation and will come back to you with a formal offer over the post once we've finalised it," Blaise said, effectively ending the conversation. Bidding Draco goodbye, he offered his arm to Luna and swiftly disappeared into thin air.
When Draco returned to the main house he almost immediately ran into his mum, who was pacing the first-floor landing nervously.
"What did he want?"
"My help and entrance to the secret Black family properties," Draco said honestly. They were in this together, a team. There had been so many decisions made for them in the past without anyone consulting them. That would change now.
"So they're staying at Grimmauld Place," Narcissa stated.
"You knew about the ledger?"
"No," Narcissa was now walking down the stairs towards him, "I presume the only way they'd know about the other properties of the Black Family would be if they'd be there, and Aunt Walburga always did have a knack of knowing exactly where every knot of the entire family fortune was tied up." The disdain towards her late Aunt was clear.
"What's our next move?" He asked. His mum would know what to do; she had been better at navigating her way through dangerous situations. Every time he had tried, he had ended up curled up on the parlour floor, Crucio 'd to an inch of his life.
"I think it's safe to move into further negotiations with the Order," Narcissa started, looking pensive. "We've burned all our bridges with the Dark side, my Dragon; if we ever want to be seen in society again, we should start working on our reputation with the Light side."
As always, everything was a grand plan with her. This would be just the next instalment in getting them back into the upper echelon of Wizarding Britain after the Order had hopefully won the war. Going all-in wouldn't matter. He was pretty sure the Dark Lord would torture and eventually kill them anyway for their past indiscretions.
"I'll contact Blaise," he said before moving past her to his chambers. He was in desperate need of a long bath.
Draco wasn't sure how, but the role he and his mum were playing in the war had shifted. He believed that all the Order required of him would be a few useful pieces of intel on how the Death Eaters chose their targets. It seemed the Light had other plans, however. As soon as they learned of Narcissa's desire to care for people and unparalleled organisational skills they had approached Draco with a new proposition. That was how he found himself running an Emergency Infirmary alongside his mum in their Kent home.
Every space apart from their private chambers had been changed into wards. Since St Mungo's was seized by the Death Eaters, all injured 'Non-Desirables' were taken to Kent. This meant wards overflowing with Order operatives and Muggles magically injured during Death Eater raids.
Draco could honestly say he had never seen so many Muggles in his life. And for all intents and purposes, they were the same. They got injured the same, they bled the same crimson blood, and they healed the same. They were the same in all the aspects that mattered. Narcissa had even taken on some of the orphaned Muggles to help them out in the wards.
A thing Draco seemed to both dread and anticipate were Granger's weekly visits. The Brightest Witch of Their Age was one of the main field Healers of the Order, or so it seemed by the way she was bossing them all around. Even though he and his mum had been working with the order for months, they still were not in the know of the things happening at the top of the food chain. He suspected there was still a fear that this was all some sort of long term undercover plan by the Dark Lord himself.
"Malfoy," Granger stormed into his chambers like she had every right to be there. Speak of the devil. "I couldn't find you in the ward."
"I had done my rounds, Granger," he drawled, "and my home is stockpiled with misery; if I'm not needed, I do not like to linger in the wards. It's not like any of the patients like to engage in casual conversation with me."
"Such a drama queen," Granger rolled her eyes. "Do you have the weekly status updates? George asked if Thomas can be released back to his squadron yet?"
"Easy, Granger," Draco beckoned her to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk. "I get anxious just by looking at you jittering in front of me."
Granger's eyes flitted away at his observation, fidgeting under his gaze. Her hands clenching and smoothing her clothes unnecessarily, finding lint where there was none. Once she seemed to regain her composure, her deep chocolate eyes met his steel grey. When she indicated for him to continue Draco quirked an eyebrow, gesturing toward the chair again.
Granger sighed loudly, gave in, and took a seat.
"Thomas can leave the infirmary." Granger beamed up at him, happy to see her old housemate recovering so fast. The way her face lit up made a warmth he did not want to name spread through his chest. When her brow creased slightly, he remembered himself and quickly moved on with his instructions. "However, I'd advise against active missions for at least another fortnight. He is allowed to help with light tasks around the airbase and could progressively test his flying skills. But, he should either have you visit him at the base, or return here for a full check-up before being cleared to fly missions again."
Granger's demeanour shifted to something less enthusiastic. They both knew it wasn't the answer Thomas wanted to hear and he was going to be a pain in the arse to keep grounded. Nevertheless, she nodded and took notes on the parchment she had conjured out of nowhere. Draco smirked. Granger would always be a diligent listener no matter where she was, even if it was him she was listening to.
"Any upcoming raids from our side? It would mean Mum and I-" Draco looked up from his desk and stopped mid-sentence when he saw an expression of pure awe on Granger's face. "What?" He snapped.
"You called it our side," She gawked at him.
"Whatever, Granger," Draco dismissed her. "Do we need to free up some beds just in case?"
"We only have a surveillance mission on the books for now."
"Where?"
"You know I can't tell you." The look in her eyes was apologetic.
"How can I help with my knowledge about the other side when you don't let me know anything?" Draco asked, frustration bubbling up. "Haven't I proven my loyalty? I can't even leave this bloody place!"
Granger sighed, "If it were up to me, you'd have the information."
"Can't do anything with that, Granger."
"I know," her voice was soft.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and Nadia's head peaked through the crack slightly.
"Mister Malfoy, we've gotten some information." The muggle nurse said.
"Can't it wait? I'm busy."
The woman had now fully made her way into his office. "Mister Malfoy, it's very important," spotting Granger in the seat across from Draco, Nadia nervously tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. "I… er… I'm not sure if Miss Granger should be here for this."
The witch across from him rose, as if to leave, "I think we were done here-"
"No," Draco snapped before he could stop himself. He wasn't sure why it was so important that she be in the room and he didn't want to think too hard about it. "Stay," he all but demanded. Granger nodded in agreement and retook her seat.
"So, out with it," Draco said impatiently.
Nadia hesitated, "I don't actually know the information myself."
Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I don't have time for riddles, Greenwood," he sighed. "Explain."
"Mister Zabini's in the hallway waiting, he didn't tell me anything." She looked into the hallway behind her. "He's quite eager to get in."
Draco sighed, "Let's have at it. Zabini come in!"
The dark-skinned wizard stepped into his office, a wide smile that did not quite meet his eyes on his face. "Malfoy, as always it's a pleasure to see you. And Miss Granger, I didn't expect to find you here."
"What's the news, Blaise?" Draco snapped. He knew Blaise wasn't the type to drop by unannounced to exchange social niceties. Whatever had happened was big. He could feel his pulse fluttering against his neck already.
The other wizard's smile faltered slightly. "I came into possession of some photographs."
Blaise rifled through the pockets of his robes and Draco was sure he could see the man's hands trembling slightly. "Addressed to you," his movements stilled and he seemed to steel himself for something. He withdrew a smooth brown envelope and handed it to Draco.
"Wait!" Blaise warned as Draco was already opening the seal. "There's something you ought to know first."
Draco looked up at his friend, truly confused.
"It's Lucius, he died."
"It's about time." The shock on Granger's face at his words further puzzled him. Why would she care that his dear Death Eater father was dead now?
"Look at the pictures, Draco."
When he finally opened the envelope the first picture showed an object swinging on a hook, beneath it were flaming letters.
Never leave a chess piece on the board
Draco didn't understand at first and looked back at Blaise. The dark-skinned man was looking at the photos that Draco was holding with a grimace. Draco's gaze flicked back to the images and suddenly the edges of his vision blurred and all he could do was focus on the picture in his hands. The thing, mangled and shredded that hung from the hook had a familiar cane lampooned through it. It was his father, or rather, it was what was left of his father's head.
Draco's blood ran cold. All he could hear was the swishing and rushing of his pulse in his ears. He suddenly regretted the plain cheese sandwich that he had managed to scoff on the go a few hours before because he was sure he was about to empty it into the waste paper bin.
His father's platinum hair was matted and stained with crimson in some places. In others, all that was visible was a bloodied scalp and exposed skull bone. Tendrils had been knotted messily to hang the disembodied head from the iron hook. In place of his steel-blue eyes were two gaping black holes and his mouth had been haphazardly sewn closed. When he was finally able to tear his eyes away from the sickening image to the other occupants of the office, Draco saw nothing but sympathy. Compassion. But he felt nothing. No grief for a father he had once loved, no happiness for the death of an evil human.
Just nothing.
"Do you want me to break the news to your mother?" Blaise asked.
The question broke through the haze. "No, it should be me."
"Okay, mate," Blaise paused. "I'm sorry but I've got to run. But I'll be back later. I think you could probably use a stiff drink tonight."
Draco didn't bother responding. He knew that Blaise would be here tonight anyway, no matter his answer.
Before the oakwood door closed he heard Blaise ask Nadia to fetch his mum.
"You should go back to work, too" he shot at the witch still sitting across from him. There was no vehemence in his tone, however, and secretly he didn't want her to leave. He didn't want to be alone. And Granger, she made him feel safe.
"I think this is where I should be right now," She stated softly. "How do you feel?"
"I don't bloody know. The man was fucking evil," Draco snapped.
"He was also your father."
"That's why I don't fucking know," Draco frustratingly rubbed his face.
"That's okay too."
Granger didn't ask any more questions, leaving Draco to try and work through the feelings slowly starting to emerge from the numbness. As soon as they surfaced, he pushed them back down. Feelings never helped anyone. It was easier to be empty.
If he felt nothing, he could handle it. He could understand it.
Draco was still bathing in numbness when the door opened again and his mum swept in.
"Nadia said you had some important news," she inquired as she stood in front of his desk.
"Please sit down, Mum."
"Just tell me, Draco." Narcissa urged still standing proudly though Draco swore he could see a small shudder in her fingers.
"Fine. Father is dead," Draco said matter-of-factly.
The shock on his mum's face was clear, "Lucius is gone?"
He felt Granger's glare burning into him. "Yes, Mum, that's why I wanted to speak to you," he let some emotion into his voice. "They tortured and murdered him in retribution."
The words broke the dam. Narcissa buckled, her heartbreaking cry cutting straight through him like a shard of glass.
He rushed from his chair and held his mum close to his chest.
"It's okay, Mum. Let it all out."
She clung to him as if he was her life raft. Narcissa's manicured nails dug into his skin through his shirt and her body was a dead weight in his arms. His neck became slick as she sobbed uncontrollably. He absently thought of how she would be so disappointed that she had stained his silk shirt with tears and mascara. But it was okay. His father was, no matter his shortcomings, the love of his mum's life. She needed to grieve. And he grieved for her.
Moments later he realised his own cheeks were wet, and the jarring realisation of the situation hit him. He was no less of a person for mourning his loss. The man might have been evil, but he was still his father and even he didn't deserve to die like that.
When his mum had finally calmed down, he carefully sat her down on a chair. The fresh smell of chamomile hit his nose and he scanned his office, spotting Granger at the small bar in the corner of the room.
"I thought tea might help," she said apologetically.
Draco blinked, stunned. He gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Thanks." Draco was surprised at the rawness of his voice when he spoke.
Granger gave him a warm smile before returning to her task. As though the only thing that day were good for was revelations, a thought hit Draco like a ton of bricks.
Granger had seen him at his most vulnerable and he found that he didn't mind.
There seemed to be an endless stream of injured Wizards, Muggles and kids. So many kids. Broken and bloodied and bruised. The youngest couldn't have been older than four, and the marks scattered over his small body made Draco want to burn the world to the ground. Every time he cleared the lobby and sent the patients to the corresponding wards, it was full again. Discarded scraps of gauze and potion bottles lay haphazardly across the marble floor. He was sure he spotted Lovegood binding the leg of an injured Weasley twin, and Nadia seemed to be dashing around like a madwoman. The Infirmary was rapidly running out of available beds. Draco desperately hoped the influx of the injured would cease before he ran out of beds.
"Mum!" Draco yelled across the Minor Injuries Ward.
Narcissa made her way towards him, weaving through all the cots and seats littered around the old 17th-century ballroom. "What's wrong, Draco?"
"Have they given us any information on why the fuck there so many patients all of a sudden?"
"I haven't heard anything officially through council channels, however, I've heard some of the patients on this ward talk about a raid in Wiltshire," Narcissa said, the look of horror on her face said it all. She suspected, just as he did, the Order were going after the Death Eater Headquarters at Malfoy Manor.
"How could they not have consulted us? There are things we know about the property that even the Dark-" his mum gave him a stern look and he quickly corrected himself.
Old habits die hard.
Draco took a fortifying breath before starting again, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't know about, especially after Father-"
The look of pure pain on Narcissa's face stopped him abruptly. It had been months since his father's untimely death. However, he knew for his mum it felt like it only happened yesterday.
"We know the property better than any of the current inhabitants," Draco finished.
Before his mum could respond, Nadia ran over to him. "Mister Malfoy, Mister Malfoy! You should come to the Entrance Hall immediately," her hazel eyes were wide with a panic that made a stone settle in Draco's gut. "There's another victim. She just appeared and collapsed. I couldn't find a pulse."
Rushing to his destination, Draco almost buckled at the sight that greeted him. His heart was in his throat as he looked at the small body that lay on the ground. Granger was collapsed in a heap, chestnut curls tossed chaotically, robes torn and sullied. Her crimson blood was slowly seeping across the large Black Family crest engraved in the old marble floors.
Regaining his focus, Draco rushed over and knelt at Granger's side, his wand going over the diagnostic charms that by now were a routine.
Heart rate - faint but there.
Blood pressure - 78/43, low but quickly fixed with a blood replenishing potion.
Concussion - definitely there; however the lack of swelling in her brain made him assume that it wasn't too bad.
Broken bones - nine cracked ribs and a shattered femur.
What the hell had happened to her.
"Mister Malfoy," Nadia's voice finally broke his concentration. "There are no beds left in the severe cases ward, I'm afraid there are no beds available at all."
He couldn't let her bleed out here. There was only one solution. "I'll set her up in my chambers." Without waiting for a response, he carefully levitated her from the ground and up the stairs.
Draco turned around when he was halfway up the grand staircase. "Nadia, go and fetch me the Skele-Gro, Blood Replenishing potion, a Calming Draught, a Pain potion, and Dreamless Sleep."
When Draco arrived in his chambers, he softly put Granger's body down on his four-poster bed before methodically cleaning the cuts and gashes littering her body. He found that focussing on the task at hand meant that he didn't need to examine the tightening in his chest. He didn't need to think about how frail she looked, what he'd do in a world without her or the stains of blood seeping into his white sheets. Once satisfied that her wounds were clean, he waved his wand in a practised motion to stitch her skin together. After he was done with the precise work, Nadia had still not arrived yet.
He went to sit in the armchair at the window. The crescent moon cast its silvery light over the garden, the tree branches moving in the wind right in front of the window gave the scene an ominous feel. He felt ominous, too. To Draco, Granger was invincible. In school, she had to have been through numerous scares with Potter and always walked out unscathed. And now it would have been mere minutes and she would've been gone. She couldn't be gone.
When he looked over to where Granger was lying, he could only see how small and fragile she looked in his bed. Like a pinprick would break her, but he was sure once he nursed her back to full health, she'd be as feisty as ever.
After what felt like an eternity, Nadia had still not arrived with the requested potions. He couldn't wait anymore; he stood from the chair and dashed through his Living Room towards the hallway, determined to look for the witch. When he was about to open the door, Nadia came rushing through it, stopping just short of crashing into him.
"Mister Malfoy, I'm late I know! I couldn't find the Calming Draught."
"It's fine. I've got some in my ensuite," he assured as he straightened himself, recovering from the almost collision. "Would you please put the potions on my bedside table? The bedroom is the third door to the left."
Nadia scurried off and made quick work of his instruction, bolting from the room before he had reached the door. "I'll be doing the rounds in the Minor Injuries ward," she explained when she nearly crashed into him again. "Just have an elf fetch me if you need any more assistance."
Before Draco could thank her, she had disappeared back to the fray. He took a deep breath, gathered himself and went back into his bedroom.
The large bed still seemed to swallow Granger's lithe body. The moonlight made her usually warm skin look pale and ghostly. However, he couldn't dwell on that. She needed help. Draco softly sat down on the edge of the bed, lifting Granger's head back and pouring the Blood Replenishing potion down her throat.
"Come on, Granger, swallow," he muttered softly.
When he poured the Skele-Gro into her mouth, Granger stirred. She opened her mouth to speak.
"Shh, love," Draco said softly. "Save your strength."
He sat up straight and looked at her. "I've healed the cuts on your body and given you Blood Replenishing potion and Skele-Gro; I plan on giving you a Pain potion and Dreamless Sleep. I'll tell you everything once you've healed some more, okay?"
Draco paused, waiting for her consent. He glanced down at her to see her eyes were glazed and eyelids heavy, "Okay?" he prompted again.
Granger nodded fractionally, realising he expected a response. Immediately, he administered the remaining treatments before she nodded off again. As though to reassure himself that she was safe, Draco remained in his position on the bed for a while, rubbing soft circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.
"What did you get yourself into this time, Granger?" he whispered into the darkness.
Once he was assured that she was resting soundly, he had made his way to the armchair again. He knew it would already be quite a shock for her to wake up in an unknown room, let alone crowding her while she slept. The chair was uncomfortable, but the events from the night had left him exhausted, and soon he succumbed to sleep.
When he woke, his neck was stiff, and the witch residing in his bed was looking at him with questioning eyes.
"Why?" The words sounded raspy from sleep.
"What?"
Granger coughed and tried to sit up in the bed. She winced in pain and slumped back down again.
"Why am I in your room? In your bed?"
"The wards were full. What happened? We were flooded with patients." Draco countered. Two could play this quizzing game.
"You know I physically can't tell you about the council's plans, even if I wanted to," Granger said softly.
"Was it Wiltshire?" Draco asked, point-blank.
Granger didn't have to answer his question. The look on her face was enough. The Order had been to Wiltshire without consulting him and had suffered for it.
"Why didn't they ask me for help?" Draco asked desperately. "I could've helped. It didn't need to be such a bloody mess."
"I know, and I honestly don't know why they don't trust you yet." The look on Granger's face was pained. They both seemed to know that he would indeed have possibly saved lives, that she wouldn't be this gravely injured if the Order would just accept his help.
The wounded look on her face brought him back to seeing her the previous day. The chilling sight of her crumpled on the floor in a pool of blood. "And you-"
Draco flinched as he cut himself off. He knew that if he said what was in his head, in his heart, everything between them would change. Forever. The silence in the room turned thick with tension.
"What?" Hermione urged.
"You almost died, Hermione," Draco desperately tried to keep the anguish out of his voice. One look at Hermione's wide, brown eyes, however, told him it hadn't worked.
"But I didn't," she implored. In an effort to show him, she propped herself up on her elbows trying to sit up straighter on the bed. She winced visibly and Draco rushed over to her supporting her before she would crash back down to the bed.
"Be careful, you brave idiot," Draco said softly, sliding on the bed next to her and propping her up so she could sit. Holding her close, to ensure she didn't have to put any pressure on her still-healing body. She felt so small, so vulnerable, in his arms. Nothing like the fierce Healer who strode around the halls of the Infirmary.
"What happened to you?"
"We were in-" Hermione suddenly stopped, the secrecy spell prohibiting her from answering his question.
"No locations, love," Draco said softly. "I just want to know what happened to you."
"We were in a… " Hermione tested the word on her tongue, "a field at the back of the battalion. My team were handling the small injuries to send fighters back into battle, or prep the injured to be transported here, and then suddenly-"
Hermione stopped, her breathing quickened.
Draco rubbed her back, encouraging her to continue. All the while, he was trying to remain calm. He knew that Granger was a seasoned fighter and Healer. She was used to death, used to battle. Whatever she had witnessed the day before was truly terrifying.
"Deep breaths," he soothed, "you're safe now."
"All of a sudden, the field hospital was surrounded. To the front of us, the battalion was overrun and somehow our rear wasn't protected anymore. And the Death Eaters just flooded the field. I tried to fight them off and get as many people as possible to safety."
Hermione took another deep breath, he felt her small body shake softly beneath his touch.
"When I felt my consciousness slipping away, I was sure if anyone could save me it'd be you. I grabbed the portkey, and everything went black. I remember some stuff but it's all kind of hazy."
Draco stared out of his bedroom window. He had to tell her. He couldn't ignore the lid that was lifted when he saw her there bleeding out on that wretched Black Family crest.
"When I saw you lying there, bleeding out in my Entrance Hall, I thought… I thought it was too late," Draco said softly, testing the waters of how best to frame his confession.
"Too late for what, Draco?" Hermione tried to turn her upper body in his arms but the exertion of energy was still too much.
Draco couldn't hold her gaze and stared out of the bedroom window again."When I saw you lying there, I was afraid that I would never have the chance to tell you how I feel. How I felt for a while now."
Hermione's soft hand reached up and cradled his cheek, running her thumb along the morning scruff at his jaw. Gently, she turned his head to make him look at her again. Though he was facing her once more, he desperately tried to not meet her gaze.
"Look at me, Draco," she urged. "What do you feel?"
He took a deep breath. This was it. He was going to lay his heart on the line and she was going to break it into a million pieces.
"I care about you, Hermione. I really fucking care about you. And my heart dropped when I saw you. Because I would love to see if there is a future for us, even in this horrible world. I know that with you it would be okay. No matter if the world would end." Draco rambled. He shut his eyes, unwilling to see the look of pity that was undoubtedly reflected in her eyes. When her warm hand did not move from his face, he finally dared to look at her. What he saw made his heart stutter. It wasn't pity at all. It was something unnamable.
Before he could question it he felt her soft lips envelop his. It was a gentle kiss, a kiss filled with all the words unsaid over the past couple of months. Draco had thought it wasn't possible to feel this happy, this cheerful, in a world so dark.
"I came here because I knew I was safe when I was with you, Draco," Hermione said when they finally pulled apart. "I've felt like that for a while now. Have you never wondered why I always come to see you face to face when I can simply owl you?"
"Now you mentioned it," Draco grinned, gaining his confidence back following her confession.
"There you are again," Hermione smiled back. Her eyelids began to droop slightly and Draco realised that the Sleeping Draught had likely not entirely worn off.
"You should rest," Draco said, trying to untangle himself from her and making her lay down on his bed again.
Hermione's hand reached out and grabbed his arm. "Can you please, stay?"
"I was only going to the chair."
"Can you hold me?" Hermione's voice was small, as if she wasn't sure if she could ask this of him. A strange feeling in his chest swelled at her words, a possessiveness he did not recognise.
"Of course," Draco smiled down at her, quickly ridding himself of his work clothes stripping down to his boxers. When he turned around he caught her eyes lingering on his torso before she met his eyes again and softly smiled. The feeling in his chest increased tenfold and sent electricity through his veins.
Draco slipped under the covers beside her, careful not to jostle her and disturb her healing wounds. Once he was fully settled, Hermione cuddled into his side, her warm body curling up against him. Her head rested on his chest, tendrils of hair tickling his chin.
"Rest, love," Draco murmured into her curls as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Draco wasn't sure when he'd drifted off to sleep, but he awoke to a small hand exploring the muscles of his torso. He kept his eyes closed, knowing that the sensations would likely cease once he'd open them. When he felt those soft lips determinedly press a kiss against his shoulder he couldn't help the jolt that ran through his body.
"Good morning," a female voice murmured against his skin.
He propped his head up to see the familiar brown mane of curls sprawled out over his chest. "Good morning, love."
I could get used to this, he thought as soft lips trailed kisses lower on his chest. For a second Draco was relishing in the anticipation of what could happen. That was until the images of the frail girl lying in his large four-poster came back to him.
"Wait!" the words sounded almost desperate.
Hermione jolted up from his chest as if he had burned her. The flush of embarrassment already bleeding through in her cheeks.
"Sorry," she murmured, "I just thought after-"
"No, no, don't get me wrong," Draco rushed out, "I'd love for this to happen. However, as a Healer…" He placed his hands on her hips, "I can simply not let you exert this kind of energy." He swiftly moved her to his right, putting her hips softly down on the mattress.
Draco couldn't help the sound of laughter escaping from his throat when he saw the pout on her face.
"Don't worry love," he smirked up at her, "I can think of some things we can do that won't exert you too much. "
Hermione shuddered under his touch as his fingers slowly traced over her stomach. The same possessive feeling from the night before swelled in Draco's chest once more at her reactions. Leering down at her for a moment, he drank her in before he bent and captured her lips in a soft kiss. He was sure that all the Firewhisky in the world could not get him as drunk as she made him. She gasped into his mouth as he caressed her hip delicately, arching into his touch. Just as she moved to deepen the kiss, he withdrew from her soft lips to retrace the path his fingers had travelled over her body. The delicious sounds he elicited from her only served to spur him on. Draco teased the witch beneath him, leaving featherlight kisses across her sun-kissed skin.
"Can I?" Draco asked once he reached the waistband of her knickers, dropping a tender kiss on her exposed abdomen.
Peeking through his eyelashes at her from between his thighs he felt a rush of power and desire wash through him. Hermione's hair was dark and wild on his pillow, cheeks flushed and pupils wide. He was sure it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. She gave a slight nod at his question.
"Words, love."
"Yes," the word was barely audible, still for him it was loud and clear.
Draco slipped his fingers beneath the band of her knickers, the witch beneath him shuddering at his touch. He felt a certain kind of pride; it was him that made her react this way. Slowly and expertly he worked her knickers off her legs. Leaving kisses on her bare skin down to her ankle. She tasted like sunshine. He knew that the moment his lips caressed her skin he could never taste anyone else's.
When he reached the end of the bed he sat back down on his haunches, looking questioningly at the witch in front of him again, splayed gloriously across his sheets.
"If you are just going to sit there and only look at me I'm going to take matters into my own hand," Hermione looked up at him with a determined look on her face, already rising from the bed to take control.
However, a grimace fought its way through her determined look.
Draco rushed down and pinned her to the bed, "No, not happening. I'll be the one taking care of you."
With that Hermione relaxed. "Bloody kiss me already then."
Draco laughed and quickly enveloped her lips with his own. This kiss was charged with a scorching need to feel alive.
He wanted to feel more.
He wanted to taste more.
Trailing kisses down the skin of her neck, before nibbling down on her pulse point, Draco couldn't help but relish in the soft moans escaping Hermione's throat.
"More," She breathed. The nails scratching down his back broke the skin, the desperation clear in her actions. She needed his body closer to hers. When he pressed his broad body against hers, he felt the scorching heat from her. Her hips rose and her core brushed against him. The look in deep chocolate eyes was pure need. Need for him, need to feel alive.
Draco pulled her hands from his back and pinned them above her head with one hand.
"We can't have you exerting any more energy than necessary."
The words came out muffled against the skin of her throat. Hermione tried to move beneath him, opening her legs and wrapping them around his hips.
Draco stilled his ministrations. He moved his whole body off hers as much as possible. Which took inhumane strength, all he wanted to do was chase this high and make her feel good.
"Don't make me restrain your legs as well."
Hermione let out a frustrated huff, untangled her legs and she finally fully relaxed in the plush bedding. "Fine."
"Good girl," he murmured. He felt her body tremble at the praise.
His free hand travelled down her body, feeling the goosebumps it left in its wake. He couldn't believe how wonderfully responsive she was to him.
When he reached the apex of her thighs he couldn't help a groan from escaping his mouth.
"Fuck, love, you're already so fucking wet."
"I told you I wanted-"
Draco cut her off when he slit a single finger into her tight centre.
"Oh!" The surprise in her eyes swiftly morphed to pure desire.
"Something like this?" Draco couldn't help the cocky grin on his face.
"It's a start."
"Trust me, love, I need to properly prepare you."
She looked at him like that could simply not be true.
Oh, just you wait, little witch.
He slipped a second finger between her folds, effectively silencing her. The sight of her writhing and moaning underneath him made him feel like a god among men. His hardening length strained against his boxers insistently. It was as though his body knew that they belonged together. He curled his fingers in her, teasing her to the precipice. When he was sure she was ready for him, he made quick work of shucking his boxers and slowly entered her with a hiss.
"Fuck, love, you are so tight."
The look on Hermione's face and the silent cry forming on her mouth was the singular most glorious sight he had ever seen. All I told you so 's went right out of the window. She fit him like a glove. Her tight warm core squeezing him deliciously. He took a steadying breath, not wanting to finish before they had started. With a few, shallow thrusts he filled her to the hilt. When he was finally fully sheathed inside of her a groan of ecstasy fell from his lips. It had never felt so good to be inside another person.
What made it even better? That it was her. That finally, finally Draco Malfoy had Hermione Granger all for himself.
When he felt Hermione slightly relaxing around his cock he started to move.
The pace he set was slow, even though every fibre of his body wanted to chase the high as quickly as possible.
Hermione's face was flushed, her eyes already slightly glossed over. His hand still restrained her wrists gently above her head and he could feel her struggling against his firm grip. Her nippled pebbled beneath his other hand as he gently palmed her breast, her body arching and writhing intoxicatingly below him. A rush of possessiveness ran through him at how pliant she was to his every whim. The thought only served to spur him on. A man only had a certain amount of restraint, and stopping now would take more than he had. The whimpers coming from Hermione on every stroke made him forget all that was going on outside. There was no war, no death, no hospital. It made him ready to take on the world and win. He wanted to stay in his bedroom with her for as long as time would allow. Because this, here, was happiness. Pure happiness.
"Harder, Draco," Hermione's demand cut through his blissful haze. Her smooth legs wound around his waist, her heels digging into his arse, urging him on.
Who was he to deny her?
The demand, combined with the wanton look in her eyes made the decision easy. His restraint was gone, completely eviscerated. He rapidly picked up the pace. With every snap of his hips, he became more lost in her. The way her tightness gripped his cock so exquisitely, the hypnotising way she bucked and squirmed. As he hurtled towards the edge he captured her lips in a scorching kiss. The hand that had been switching its attention between her beautiful breasts roamed down her body towards her clit. He desperately wanted to get her to tumble off the edge with him. His lips trailed from her swollen lips to worship her skin once more, ghosting over her neck before nipping and sucking at her pulse point.
As soon as her lips were unoccupied, Hermione started softly moaning again.
"Fuck, Draco. Right there. I'm close."
When he ran his teeth over the juncture of her neck, her entire body quaked with unadulterated need. With a final, rough flick of his thumb and snap of his hips, she was clenching down on his cock. Her hands struggled to be freed from his, longing to touch him as she bowed into him.
The feeling of her core clenching down on him and the look of utter bliss in her eyes was just too much. It only took another snap of his hips before he was following her over the edge.
He took a few moments to catch his breath, head dropping to hers before he carefully withdrew from her and rolled to the side. Unwilling to lose the warmth of her body completely, he delicately drew Hermione to him, tucking her safely into his side.
"Well, that was something else," Hermione broke the peaceful silence a couple of minutes later.
"Regrets?" Draco tried to keep the uncertainty out of his voice.
Hermione tilted her head to smile at him. "Certainly not."
A/N: As always reviews and favs give me life. And please tell me what you think.