A/N: Thank you for the reviews and follows and favorites! ❤️
Draco Malfoy stared furiously at the pesky brown owl. It was a clever little bird. It had evaded all his attacks and fluttered around impatiently, waiting for the man to relieve it of a small parcel. It was tied to the bird's talons. It looked heavy. But the little beast had no trouble with it. This pissed the man off, because he could smell her magic, yet she wasn't there. It was getting harder and harder to resist and even a master of self-control like Draco Malfoy had his limits. He had hoped the pain would kill him. It had not. It seemed like the veela in him enjoyed pushing him to the edge, but not over it.
Eventually, he calmed enough to realize that the easiest way to get out of this annoying thing was to get the package and let it fly away. He took the parcel, ripped the string and tore up the brown paper. Draco was surprised to say the least when he found a book with a yellow cover on which a girl sat on a box with a great pile of books next to it. The girl had a book open on her lap and it instantly reminded him of his mate. He tried to burn it, but it wouldn't catch fire. Hermione had anticipated his reaction and had charmed it to be magic resistant. She almost hadn't done it, but as she had decided to send her own personal copy right before mailing the parcel, she decided to be more careful.
While Draco was getting better at controlling the fire, the power of the magic was slowly decreasing. The rage was exhausting. He wanted sleep and he wanted it bad. "I've suffered worse," he told himself and that was true. He had learned to control himself first to hide his feelings for a certain muggleborn from his family, then later to protect his family from the Dark Lord and now to avoid taking the choice of love from the only girl he had ever given damn about.
The scent, coming from the book, filled his room. The minute traces of it were enough to make his skin tingle and his mind wander. He had avoided the tea room as much as possible because of that very reason and now, his bedroom was equally distracting. He was about to leave the room, when he noticed the letter that had dropped out of the parcel. He had ripped it up together with the paper that was used to pack the book. Draco picked it up curiously and, forgetting his insistence to ignore the existence of his mate, opened it.
Malfoy,
This was useful to me once. I hope it helps you as much as it helped me.
HG
The letters were neat and small. He recognized the handwriting at once and even though he wanted to, he didn't have it in him to destroy it. For a moment, Draco was sure he heard laughter in the background. The air in the room was still. He could feel the blood pulse in his veins before he fell onto his knees and cried out.
Resistance is futile, he heard in his head. It was a dark voice; it sounded insane. Be the hunter, not the prey. Take her. His screams cut through the air. They echoed through the Manor and those who heard it shivered. "Whatever it takes," he coughed out. There was a metallic taste in his mouth. Blood? He couldn't see. "I will protect her whatever it takes." He had promised it to himself. That's exactly why. A smirk appeared on his face, his body not following his brain. The two sides of him, veela and human, had diverging opinions of how to best achieve their mutual goal. His feet moved on their own. Draco tried to physically stop himself from going, but there was not much he could do.
He left the grounds and apparated; his instincts told him where to go and he followed them into the darkness. Draco noticed her instantly, her scent overpowering his senses and taking over his thoughts like a starry sky on a clear night. The veela reached out, the human tried to step on the brakes. The body did its own thing.
Hermione was enjoying the afternoon sun. She had bought a cup of tea to-go, even though she usually preferred to sit at the cafe. It was strange for her to be so free of obligations, but it was a little nice too. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves (had Malfoy received the book she sent in the morning?) and was about to continue on her way, when something crashed into her. The hot drink spilled from the cup all over her clothes and she could feel it sink deep into her bra. It was a nasty feeling and she pushed the body off of her. But it didn't let go. Instead of getting upset, a look of worry crossed her face.
"Are you okay?" she asked frantically. "I'm sorry, I didn't look where I was going…" Truth was that she hadn't seen the stranger coming, but not because she wasn't paying attention. They had appeared out of thin air, dressed in dark wizarding robes and was a curious sight, considering they were in muggle London. Hermione removed the robe gently from the person's head and gasped, recognizing the blonde hair instantly. "Malfoy? Are you okay? Do you need help?"
The man's eyes were closed and his breathing raspy. He felt heavier by the second. Hermione struggled to straighten up, but as she did, the first thing she checked was his forehead. Malfoy didn't have a fever but there were dark spots around his eyes.
"Malfoy?" Hermione was unsure what to do. It had been terrible irresponsible of Malfoy to apparate to the park. They got lucky when it happened, as there weren't many people and no one was looking, but Hermione couldn't disapparate with the passed-out wizard. She had written an article to highlight the dangers of it. She knew the risks. So the only option was to carry Malfoy somewhere safe and call for help.
It was tempting to use magic, but somehow she managed to get the wizard back to her apartment. She had considered stopping at all the shops and cafes on the way, but she didn't want to deal with the hassle of trying to explain "her friend and his quirky clothing habits". He was attracting more than enough attention on his own; Hermione noticed all the glances they were getting and a couple of girls had approached her, giggling to ask if they could help her.
"Come on, Malfoy," she heaved him up the stairs, panting. It was only inside the safety of her home that she tried to use magic to move him. However, Malfoy's arms had slid around her and he was unwilling to let go. Hemione patted him on his face with her free hand, trying to wake him up. He didn't react.
Hermione sighed in exasperation. She really wanted to get out of her wet clothes, but Malfoy was clinging to her as if his life depended on it. She racked her brain to figure out what to do and how to handle this situation. While thinking, she used scourgify to clean her clothes. It didn't take away her need to change clothes, but it made the situation slightly more bearable. Hermione recalled the conversation she had had with Narcissa Malfoy; the older woman had mentioned that Draco was having trouble sleeping, so Hermione decided to leave him be as soon as she could figure out how to get free from his hold.
She stared at his relaxed face, smiling almost affectionately. It was the first time she could look at him clearly, without him scowling or smirking at her. He looked vulnerable. Hermione just couldn't resist – her arm reached out and her fingers brushed through his blonde hair which somehow looked even better than it had in Hogwarts. Malfoy's hair was often a topic for gossip and bets were made to see if he'd let anyone touch it. Of course, no one could without getting hexed. Hermione had never even tried to, never been interested in, but something about it seemed so irresistibly inviting.
Malfoy sighed happily in his sleep. It encouraged Hermione to continue stroking his hair with more confidence. She felt funny, her mind was getting clouded and she lost her trail of thought, as if under a spell. Sleep claimed her. Malfoy pulled her closer instinctively.
Draco opened his eyes to a dim room that he didn't remember ever entering. Panic swelled in him, as he realized this place was completely unfamiliar to him. It took him a couple of extra seconds to become aware of the body lying in his arms, the all too familiar bushy hair and the sudden calm that had invaded his mind and body. There was no pain. His mind was quiet. The whispers that had plagued him had stopped. He felt better than he had in a very long time.
Draco carefully removed himself from the woman fates had chosen for him and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. He was convinced that this would be the first and last time he did that – there was no way he could explain to her, how he got into this situation without mentioning his blood and her newfound obligation to save his life once again. Draco's eyes fell to her lips, wondering how they would taste like, but he found the willpower to turn away. He had promised to let her have a safe, happy life.
He didn't leave a note, when he left. As Hermione's apartment had anti-apparition wards up, he had to exit through the door, where he ran into a very shocked Ginny Weasley, who simply raised her eyebrow as he rushed away, disapparated mid-step and was out of sight before anyone could have said "quidditch".
The unlocked door to Hermione's home flew open and the redhead rushed in. What was Malfoy, the man who had ignored all her friend's attempts to get him out of Azkaban, doing there?
"Oy, Mione!" she demanded, shaking the sleeping woman. Ginny had discovered Hermione on the bed, asleep and still clothed. That had even raised more questions. Finally, the woman stirred. She smiled groggily, recognizing her friend by the hair. Glimpses of the memory from before she had got to bed flashed through Hermione's mind and a bright blush spread all over her face.
"What was Malfoy doing here?" Ginny wanted to know. Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone!"
"Malfoy?" squeaked the brightest witch of her age. "What are you talking about?" Her voice was pitched and Ginny rolled her eyes. It was easy to tell, when Hermione wasn't telling the truth.
"Spill, girl!" she said in a tone that didn't allow for disagreement and Hermione gave in. She told her friend as much as she could – about Malfoy's sudden appearance and his equally confusing sleep. She left out the bit about touching his hair – a secret can only be kept if no one else knew about it and assuming that Malfoy didn't remember anything about it, no one had to know about her moment of insanity.
"And nothing happened?" Ginny sounded disappointed and Hermione pointed it out. The redhead laughed: "Have you taken a look at him recently? Pretty sure Prophet's most eligible bachelor is going to be him. He's got it all. By Christmas, no one is going to remember that he was in Azkaban."
Hermione could do nothing but agree. If even she had found it impossible to refrain from touching his silver locks, then Prophet was going to be all over him. But this gave her only one more reason to keep her secret – the last thing she wanted was to be dragged into another love scandal.
