Disclaimer: Not my characters. Steaminess up ahead.
"What do you mean we have to paint every room?" Draco asked the next day as they sat at the small dining room table.
They'd gotten Draco's clothes unpacked quickly—Harry and Ron had left them in his suitcase at his insistence—and he'd settled in almost seamlessly. He'd even made the coffee that moring, sans magic, which had impressed Hermione to no end. She couldn't help but smile at him over the rim of her coffee mug.
"I wanted to update each room while I was here alone—" she gave him a pointed look and he only rolled his eyes. "But I'm not quite finished. We still have the bedroom and the living room," she said with a smile. "And now that you're here, it'll go much faster."
"I've never painted in my life, Granger," he said as he patted his lips with a napkin. "I wouldn't want to bollocks it up."
"I'll teach you," she said as she stood. "Let's change into some only, dirty clothes and get started."
"I don't have any old, dirty clothes," Draco said as he leisurely sipped his coffee, a triumphant smirk on his pale, angular face.
"Lucky for you, I have some of my father's that will fit you just fine," she said without missing a beat. She smiled at him over her shoulder and laughed at the look of dread on his face. "Come on, now." She offered him her hand and with a groan, he took it and followed her into the spare bedroom that had already been painted.
They dressed quickly and after, Draco looked into the floor-length mirror with an expression of abject horror.
"I can't be seen like this," he said, staring at the paint-spattered t-shirt that was at least one size too big and ripped, paint-stained cargo shorts. "Surely people don't wear such things." He looked at his pale legs and blanched. "At least give me some proper pants."
Hermione laughed and stepped between him and the mirror. She stepped up onto her tip-toes and slipped her arms around his neck. "No one will see you except me," she promised before she kissed his nose. "And if we can get these two rooms painted, I'll happily remove the clothes for you."
At this, his eyes went wide. He grabbed her waist with his hands and pulled her close. "What are we waiting for then?" he asked before he kissed her and swiftly left the room.
After Hermione taught him the basics, they got the living room painted fairly quickly. Hermione had chosen a lovely shade of buttery yellow and when they were done, Draco had hardly gotten any on him at all, which he was exceptionally proud of.
When they made it into the bedroom—the last room to be painted—Hermione had an idea.
Without waiting for instruction, as the plastic was already laid and the molding taped off, Draco got to work. Hermione had chosen a deep sage green and it went on the wall thick and smooth.
Hermione looked at him, at his beautiful white-blonde hair and paintless skin, and smiled. With quiet steps, she dipped her brush into the thick, green paint. Standing behind him with her arm extended, she cleared her throat. He turned, expectant, and the paint brush swiped his cheek, leaving a shocked expression on his face.
Hermione covered her mouth and her eyes went wide as laughter bubbled up.
"What was that for?" Draco asked indignantly.
"You looked too clean," she said, laughing again as he touched his cheek and his hand came away green.
"Too clean?" he asked. He set his jaw and turned away, shoulders shaking, and Hermione's laughed died in her chest.
"Draco," she said, her voice afraid, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" Her voice was cut off when he spun, dripping paint brush in hand, and let the paint splatter into her hair and across her face. Her eyes snapped shut and she stood, open-mouthed, as a dribble of green made its way down her cheek. She wiped it off her forehead before it reached her eyes and stared at him. His eyes were open and wide and his grin was huge. Never had she seen him look so triumphant and childlike.
He saw her look and his smile transformed into a smirk and at once, they attacked each other. Paintbrushes found skin and snagged clothes. Hair was matted and turned green as the room was filled with shrieks and laughter. A bit of paint got on the floor, their shoes smearing it around, but neither of them cared. When Draco finally had Hermione pinned against his chest, paint brush trapped at her sighed, she laughingly called out, "I yield! I yield!" she cried, laughing.
He released her enough to let her spin toward him, then pulled her tight and close again. He pushed her paint-stiff hair off her forehead and she smiled up at him, letting her own paintbrush fall to the plastic taped to the edges of the floor so that she could thread her fingers through his hair.
"We need to finish this room," he said, as he looked at her, his eyes no longer playful. He brushed her hair back again. "But all I can think about is helping you scrub this paint off your skin." His thumb dragged against her cheek and she leaned into his warm palm.
"I suppose," she said, pressing closer, "that we could finish painting tomorrow." She looked up at him through hooded eyelids and saw his pupils expand.
He didn't wait for another invitation. Dropping his own paintbrush on the plastic, he took her hand and dragged her from the room, stopping long enough to lay the lid over the can of paint on his way out.
Hermione laughed as he dragged her down the hall to the bathroom. With his free hand, he spun the water to hot, then grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her. She laughed into his mouth as he worked the buttons of her shorts and let them drop down her legs, then slipped her paint-covered shirt over her head. When the neck of her shirt got caught she laughed again as he growled and carefully worked it over her head.
After she was left in only her underthings, he stepped back and hastily disrobed. Never in her life did she think she would see Draco Malfoy in such an unkempt, ungraceful state. She had the thought that she could watch him like this for the rest of her life and never tire of it.
Draco shimmied out of his boxer briefs and captured her lips again as he unhooked her bra and slipped her knickers down her legs.
"Time to get you clean," he said against her lips as his paint-stiffened hands roamed over her skin. His hands slipped down her waist and cupped her bum, then lifted her so that her legs were around his waist. She shrieked and laughed as he held her there, lips finding hers as he stepped into the hot spray of the shower.
The water hit them and he pressed her back into the cold shower wall, his lips suddenly hotter than the steaming water. His tongue explored her mouth as he ground against her most sensitive area with his hips. He let her feet slip to the ground as his mouth created a burning trail down her throat. He dropped to his knees as his mouth enveloped each of her breasts before continuing downward, leaving open-mouthed kisses down her belly until he found her warm heat. She gasped and gripped his hair as his tongue set her on fire. When he added a finger her knees nearly buckled, but he was ready, his other arm holding her up as he made her knees tremble. Quickly, as hot water cascaded over them both, he brought her to the edge, and when her muscles went slack, he was there to catch her, his lips finding her again.
"Time to wash you clean," he said.
"What about you?" she asked, looking at him through the water droplets on her eyelashes.
"No magic, Granger," he said with a shrug. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then leaned his own forehead in that spot. "No contraceptive spell."
Hermione grinned and bit her lip. "Muggles have contraceptives too, Draco," she said, her voice sultry. "I hoped you come back," she said, voice soft. "Potions don't work for me anymore, but muggle medicines do. I started birth control the day I got here."
His eyes went big and his grin turned devilish. "Well, in that case—" he attacked her lips again, his hands holding her up, and when he entered her the only thing she could do was sigh as he filled her up.
After, that same tenderness that they'd cultivated in the hospital returned. Draco lathered up her wild hair, working his fingers through the painted together tangles, then rinsed it. He even conditioned it, after she showed him the difference between shampoo and conditioner. They took turns washing each other with loofahs, then wrapped each other in fluffy towels.
"We'll still have to paint that room," Draco said as he tucked the towel around his waist, leaving his damp chest to dry in the air.
"There's always tomorrow," she said, feeling the weight of those words. In the past, each time they had sex, it was with the understanding that there was no guarantee for a time to follow. Now, that seemed like the most ridiculous notion in the world.
Draco grinned and ran his fingers through his wet hair. "What say we order some food and you show me how the telly-vision works."
Hermione smiled, unwilling to correct him and feeling so emotionally full she could hardly stand it and nodded. "That sounds perfect."
- break -
The next few months went by in a blur. Hermione introduced Draco to all the aspects of muggle life he would need to live here. She taught him how to catch a bus. He met the neighbors and even made friends with an older gentleman named Herb next door. Hermione often found him standing at their shared fence, talking to Herb about his garden. Together they went to the market, cooked meals, and decorated Hermione's childhood home.
It would have been perfect, flawless even if Hermione had been able to shake the guilt that grew in her chest each day. She watched Draco as he would absently reach for his wand before remembering it was with hers, in a box in their closet. She saw the shadow of sadness that sometimes slipped across his face and knew it was because of her. He was giving up his magic, voluntarily, each and every day, for her.
Summer solstice was only a couple of days away and Hermione knew she needed to push Draco to go back to wizarding Britain, if only for a little while. The solstice was a big day and he should spend it steeped in magic, not in a muggle neighborhood where the most exciting thing to happen might be a barbecue.
He was sitting on their couch, reading a muggle novel, when she approached him.
"Draco," she said, nerves in her voice. He closed his book and held his arm out, inviting her to sit. She did, curling into his side, and took a deep breath.
"I wanted to talk to you about solstice," she said before swallowing heavily.
"Oh, good," he said, placing his book on the end table. "I wanted to talk about that as well. You don't have any plans, do you?" he asked. "I was thinking I'd try cooking a meal solo."
Hermione closed her eyes. "I think you should go home," she said, voice breaking. Around her waist, his arm went stiff for a moment, then softened again.
"You do, huh?" he asked. "Fortunately for both of us, you don't get to make my decisions. If you did, I would have given up on you after New Year's." He kissed her temple and rubbed his nose against the skin there, once. "Think of how tragic that would have been."
"You deserve to spend the day with magic," she said, voice quiet. "I can't, but you can." She sighed. "It's not fair for you to be stuck here with me."
"Still so daft," he muttered as he kissed her temple again. "I appreciate you wanting me to be happy," he said after a moment, but what makes me happy is being her with you." He scooted away to make her look at him. "Alright? I truly just want to make you a meal, try not to burn our home down, and enjoy the solstice with you."
Hermione stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "Alright," she said, still feeling guilty but unwilling to fight.
"Good," he said, settling back against her and picking up the TV remote. He clicked the screen on and pulled her closer, and for the moment, Hermione decided to just be in this moment and deal with the rest later.