Songs - DARE by Gorillaz, Simple As… by Kid Cudi, and No Stress by Tycho, Saint Sinner
Chapter Fourteen: Language, Granger
If you didn't count the whole having to put on a show to keep people from finding out about Rodolphus thing, the aftermath of the banquet and the interview with the Daily Prophet hadn't been quite as horrible as Hermione expected. Sure, it wasn't really possible to go anywhere without attracting some sort of attention, but at least no one was actively trying to villainize Draco or break the two of them apart. Wizarding Britain was enamored, and no one, not even Misty Bispelling, had a negative thing to say about them.
One of the more surprising benefits of the public's almost unrelenting interest in every minute detail of their lives was how many people were eager to support the Rose Foundation. The donations had been much, much larger than they anticipated, large enough that they were able to hire an assistant to handle some of the more menial daily tasks required to keep their new project afloat. It seemed that for once, they had both been able to put their unsought fame to a bit of good use, and with each new donation, not even Hermione could grumble about the surprising level of support.
"I can't believe this actually worked," Hermione told Harry one morning over tea after skimming through the Prophet's most recent article about her and Draco. "I mean, I knew the foundation would be a good cover, but I didn't actually think people would want to donate to it, let alone care about what it's meant to accomplish."
"Will you look at that," Harry noted, smirking at his friend from the other side of the table, "you're actually looking on the bright side."
"If you call using the fame that I did not want to get people interested in something they should have already cared about, then yes, I'm looking on the bright side," Hermione replied, not feeling particularly cheerful about that revelation.
"Sometimes you have to play the game to get people to listen," Harry explained, despite knowing that it wouldn't change her opinion.
"I still wish there had been another way," she admitted, pausing to take a sip of her tea. "I hate having to pretend like I enjoy all of this attention."
"I know," he said, wishing he could do more than offer his understanding. "At least Draco doesn't seem to mind too much."
"Harry," Hermione began, rolling her eyes, "the man was bred for the spotlight. A few years in isolation can't undo all that training. It's built into his damn DNA."
Harry laughed. "Yes, I suppose I forgot about the minor detail."
"I wouldn't call it minor," she mumbled in response.
After nearly three weeks of sitting down for interviews and posing for photographs, Kingsley finally decided to relax his demands on Draco and Hermione's public facade. There were no more required banquets (the one had been more than enough to drive them both mad), and at least for now, there were no more compulsory interviews with eager reporters aspiring to be the next Rita Skeeter (although, that didn't stop Misty from reaching out almost obsessively). Still, the Minister made it clear that the couple needed to continue their ventures out into the public eye, and so to appease the boss, they continued to make almost daily appearances in places where they knew they'd be seen together. Which, as it turned out, was really only terribly difficult for one of them.
On one particularly chilly December night, they decided to take a post-work stroll through a festively decorated Diagon Alley, pausing dramatically to kiss in front of some of the more popular stores. The air was heavy as if the clouds in the sky were about to open and release a torrent of snow on the ground at any moment, but Draco wasn't the least bit bothered by the weather. It seemed that not even a bit of gloom could dampen his mood. Hermione, on the other hand, was freezing, and not even the twinkling lights hanging all around them could keep her agitation from growing each minute they remained outside away from the warmth of either of their beds.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Hermione mumbled as Draco happily swung her toward him, the ends of her thick wool scarf flying behind her.
Merlin, even living among Muggles for a couple of years couldn't rid this man of his proclivity for theatrics, she groaned internally.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, smirking, his dark gray eyes sparkling under the lights strung along the street. "I'm finding this particular part of our job rather easy to perform."
Hermione nearly smacked him but thought better of it (you never knew who was watching), instead biting down on his lip harder than she normally would when he leaned in for a kiss.
Ouch, Draco mouthed when he finally managed to pull away. "What was that for?" he muttered under his breath before waving at a young, giggling witch who had shouted their names from across the street.
"For calling our relationship a job," Hermione sniffed.
Draco laughed. "I did no such thing," he said, pausing to play with the curls cascading down her shoulders from underneath her wool hat. "I like showing you off," he added, moving a thumb over her lips.
For a moment, Hermione forgot where she was and let her eyes close, her breath quickening as his thumb lingered suggestively on her bottom lip.
"Careful, Granger," he teased, his breath tickling her as he leaned forward to speak quietly in her ear. "People are watching."
His words brought her back to the present, and she quickly opened her eyes, her heart fluttering uncontrollably against her chest. Shaking her head, she pulled him further down the street, trying her best to ignore the prying eyes that continued to follow them as they walked.
"I can't believe we still have to gallivant around like we're some sort of circus act," she muttered, her cheeks rosy from the cold. "I'll be happy when we can just go back to how things were."
"It could be worse," Draco replied, pulling them to a stop so that he could brush his hand against her cheek. "Kingsley could have ordered us to attend more of those god-awful society banquets."
Yes, Hermione thought. That definitely would have been worse.
"I just don't understand why we have to continue putting on a show for everyone," she said as Draco moved behind her, wrapping her in his arms. "We've clearly done enough to convince everyone that this–" she paused, gesturing at the two of them "–is real."
"You think this is a show?" Draco asked, prompting Hermione to lean her head back against his shoulder. "You know I can't keep my hands off of you," he added as he placed a kiss on her neck.
A shiver ran down her spine as his lips met her skin."If you keep doing that, I'm not responsible for what happens next," she warned, her heart racing once again.
Draco ignored her and continued kissing his way up her neck until he met the space behind her ear, pausing to nibble softly at the sensitive skin before pulling away and finally taking note of where there were.
"You would threaten to get me naked outside of this place," he whispered in her ear, nodding his head toward the shop they had inadvertently stopped in front of.
Hermione followed Draco's gaze, nearly choking when she realized they were standing in front of Flourish and Blotts.
"Merlin, I really can't take you anywhere," she grumbled, blushing.
"Oh, don't pretend like you don't remember what happened the last time we were around a large collection of books," Draco retorted, clearly enjoying making her uncomfortable. "You practically attacked me."
Hermione snorted. Always so dramatic.
"I didn't take you for a liar, Malfoy," she retorted, turning around in his arms.
"Au contraire," he began with a smile, "I believe it was you who put your hands down my pants not the other way around."
"I– I only did that– you started–" she began, stumbling over her words as Draco stared at her with an impish grin on his face. "You know what, it doesn't matter," she amended, realizing there really was no point in trying to argue with him. "Why are you always so bloody difficult?"
"Difficult!?" he exclaimed, jokingly. "How dare you?"
"For fuck's sake," Hermione mumbled, rolling her eyes.
"Language, Granger," Draco admonished, still smiling his perfectly stupid smile. "You wouldn't want the world to know how dirty that mouth is of yours," he added, looking around.
As much as she wanted to ignore him, to chastise him somehow for being so childish, she couldn't resist that damn smile, and so instead, she looked up into his eyes with the best innocent schoolgirl look so she could muster.
Two can play this game.
"You know," she began, pausing to lick her lips, her tongue lingering in the space between them just long enough to make his pupils dilate, "maybe you should take me home and punish me then."
Draco, who suddenly found himself harder than he wanted to be in the middle of a not so deserted Diagon Alley, could only gawk in response.
Got him, Hermione thought, smirking as she caught sight of the obvious bulge in his pants.
"Fucking hell, woman," he finally managed, attempting to discreetly adjust himself. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Well, don't go dying on me just yet," Hermione told him. "At least not before I put that tongue of yours to good use one last time."
Draco nearly growled. "Oh, you're going to pay for that," he warned, not waiting for her response before taking out his wand and Apparating them to his flat.
Of course, being as preoccupied with each other as they were, neither of them noticed that the young witch had followed them down the street. And even if they had, they might not have thought anything of it. But perhaps the worst of it was that they were gone by the time she threw her hands over her face and quickly fled down a dark alley, her features reverting back to their original shape.
(Timing is a bitch, isn't it?)
While their showboating had proven to be rather successful at keeping Rodolphus out of the news, the hunt for him, unfortunately, had not been as fruitful. The young boy he had attacked was thankfully awake and healthy, but there were still large gaps in his memory that no amount of healing potions or spells could recover. Not even the remaining spells on Hermione's list were capable of revealing anything new. Harry refused to subject the boy to any more Legilimency now that he was awake and, to keep the press as far away from St. Mungo's as possible, he had relegated Draco and Hermione to research back at the Ministry.
It was frustrating work, digging through the notes that had been frantically recorded as Draco searched the boy's memories for the final time, and as the weeks passed, it became difficult for either of them to remain optimistic. None of the new memories appeared to be linked in any way to Rodolphus, and no matter how hard they tried, they still couldn't seem to identify how the boy had fallen into the arms of a maniacal Death Eater. Each time they thought they might have a lead, the memory would turn out to be something from earlier in the boy's life, and they would be back to square one. And no one took the lack of progress harder than Hermione.
"Fuck!" she yelled late one afternoon, angrily throwing the pile of papers she had been holding on the ground.
Draco, who had been working through his own pile as he sat on the floor propped against the side of the desk, looked up, somewhat startled by Hermione's sudden outburst.
"Hermione?"
She huffed angrily as she paced the floor next to her desk. "It's been weeks, Draco. Weeks! And we're no closer to figuring out where Rodolphus is or how the boy came into contact with him," she exclaimed. "Why the fuck haven't we fucking figured anything out?"
Thinking better of making a joke about her choice of words, Draco raised an eyebrow slightly and pushed himself onto his feet. There was a look of panic on her face, and he knew if he didn't find a way to snap her out of it, she would spend the rest of the night blaming herself for things that were completely out of her control. She barely seemed to register his presence as he stood there studying her, and when her pacing brought her within his reach, he placed his hands on her shoulders and halted her movement.
"Hermione," he began again, his thumbs rubbing along the top of her shoulders as he bent his head to look her in the eyes, "I know you're frustrated and I know this whole process has been slow, but you have to stop putting so much pressure on yourself."
She looked up at him, acknowledging that she had heard him, but didn't respond right away, instead chewing nervously at the inside of her cheek.
"Slow?" she said finally. "This isn't slow, it's fucking glacial."
"We have hundreds of memories we didn't have before," he tried to assure her. "There's bound to be something useful in one of them. It's just going to take some time."
"It's my fault we haven't found anything," she mumbled, ignoring his comment, her eyes glazing over as if she was looking beyond him into a different dimension. "If the memory charm had really worked, we would have found him already."
Draco sighed. "You accomplished something none of the Healers could," he told her for what felt the millionth time. "The boy is awake because you restored enough of his memories to stabilize him. You gave him back his sanity."
"I don't know why Harry thought I could do this," she muttered, continuing along her downward spiral as if Draco wasn't talking to her. "I can't even figure out how to reverse the memory charm I placed on my own parents. He shouldn't have trusted me to do this."
"Hermione–" Draco started but stopped when he saw tears beginning to fall down her face.
Not knowing what else to say, he wrapped her in her arms and let her cry, her body shaking against his chest as she let out the frustration that had been boiling inside of her all day. The past few weeks hadn't been easy for anyone on the team tasked with hunting down Rodolphus, but Hermione had taken the news that the memory charm had only partially reversed the damage to the boy's mind particularly hard. If he couldn't find a way to reassure her, to make her understand that she had already done more than everyone else combined, Draco feared that the stress she was putting on herself would cause her to come completely unhinged.
He held her, rubbing her back softly until her breathing finally returned to normal.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said after a few minutes, pausing to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't know why I keep getting so emotional about this."
Draco placed a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo as he tucked her head under his chin.
"You care, that's why," he replied, sweetly.
"And you don't?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"You know that I do – we all do," he answered, his gaze fixed on the toffee-colored eyes staring back at him. "Injustice doesn't sit well with you, and you're frustrated because you feel like you haven't made any progress to rectify that injustice," he continued, smiling at her softly. "But you have."
Hermione sighed and wiped the remaining tears away from her face.
"I just wish this was easier," she confessed, not quite willing to tell him that he was right. And he was, she begrudgingly admitted, right.
"If it was easy, the Ministry would have caught him years ago," Draco said, running a hand along the side of her face, his thumb tracing the outline of her jaw. "You helped defeat one of the most dangerous dark wizards of all time. You've helped take down other horrible people, and you will–" he paused for emphasis "–be responsible for finding others, including Rodolphus."
"Harry was the one–"
"Don't even think about it," Draco interrupted, knowing exactly what she was about to say.
"But it wasn't–"
"Nope."
"I didn't–"
"Granger!"
"I just–"
"If you try to tell me that you had nothing to do with Voldemort's defeat one more time," he warned, pausing to smirk before finishing his thought, "I'm going to have to gag you."
Hermione, who had spent the better part of the last 30 minutes overcome with irrationally self-directed anger, began laughing so hard that her sides hurt.
"There she is," Draco said, chuckling as he watched her face soften, happiness quickly flooding back into her eyes.
"I can– not– believe– you just– said– that," she managed, one arm clutching her stomach she struggled to breathe while the other clung to his shoulder.
"It worked didn't it?" Draco replied, grinning.
Fuck, I want to make her laugh like this for the rest of my life, he thought before taking her head in his hands and leaning forward to kiss her.
It wasn't fair, what his lips did to her, and Hermione tried to tell him as much, but found herself completely incapable of doing anything more than mutter incoherently into his mouth.
"I'm sorry," Draco said, pulling away with a smile on his face, "did you say something?"
"It's not–" Hermione began, but stopped when his stupidly perfect smile triggered a familiar rush of butterflies to her stomach. "Fuck it, doesn't matter," she breathed, burying her fingers in his hair.
"Tsk, tsk," Draco admonished. "Language, Granger"
"You're the worst," she retorted, knowing full well there were three other words she'd like to say to him but just didn't quite yet have the courage.
The holidays came and went, their work and the demands on their time keeping either of them from fully enjoying the festivities. They spent Christmas morning with Harry and Ginny, laughing as James and Albus sprinted around the house with their new toys, and carved out the rest of the day for themselves, snuggling in front of the fireplace in Hermione's flat as they read each other their favorite Christmas stories. It wasn't much of a celebration – they had been so preoccupied with finding Rodolphus that they barely remembered to get a tree – but they cherished their first big holiday together all the same. Hermione would certainly never forget how low Draco's jaw dropped when she sashayed into the bedroom wearing nothing but a red lace lingerie set and a pair of matching thigh-highs.
"Happy Christmas," Hermione said, attempting to lean her body seductively against the bathroom door.
Draco, who was already sitting on the bed, looked up from his book, his eyes widening when he caught sight of her.
"I thought we said no presents," he said finally, pausing to remove his glasses.
"Oh, does that mean you want me to take this off?" she replied, taking a step back into the bathroom.
The mere threat of her taking off that outfit without him stirred something in Draco, and he jumped out of bed, quickly closing the distance between them.
"Don't you fucking dare," he said, burying a hand in her hair. "Plus," he continued, using his free hand to place a small wrapped gift in her hand as he leaned in closer, "I got you something too. It probably won't match–" he paused, gesturing at her outfit, "–but I think it will do."
Hermione closed her hand around the package and eyed him suspiciously.
"Where in the world were you hiding this?" she inquired, referring to the fact that he was completely starkers.
"Don't worry about it," he replied, pulling her closer. "Open it."
She hesitated only for a moment before tearing off the shiny red wrapping paper, revealing a small velvet box.
"Malfoy, I swear to Godric if you spent–"
"Just open the damn box," he interrupted, rolling his eyes.
What Hermione found when she finally opened the box was not what she expected. In fact, if she hadn't pulled it out of the box and felt the weight of it in her hand, she wouldn't have even believed it was real. But there it was, one of her old S.P.E.W. badges, and she didn't know quite what to say.
"How?" she managed after a few moments, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.
"I found it in the Room of Hidden Things during our sixth year," Draco explained, nervously draping a hand behind his neck. "I can't really explain why I hung onto it all these years, or why I even took it in the first place, but I– well, I wanted you to have it back."
A tear escaped down Hermione's cheek. It would have been one thing (and certainly not surprising) to learn that he had spent a significant amount of time (and money) hunting the badge down, but this, knowing that it had stayed with him even after all the years since their time at Hogwarts, even despite hating each other when he had found it, was another thing entirely.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad," Draco said, brushing away the tear on her cheek.
Hermione shook her head. "Not sad," she told him. "Draco, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me."
"I thought you could use it as inspiration," he explained, brushing a curl behind her ear. "That it could serve as a reminder for all the good you've done."
Hermione was quiet for a moment, tears still building in the corner of her eyes.
"Thank you," Hermione said finally, unable to look away from him. "I love it."
Draco smiled. "Good," he replied, his eyes sparkling as he returned her gaze. "Does this mean that I win Christmas?"
She wanted to say no. She really did. She wanted to roll her eyes and pretend like his gift hadn't affected her as deeply as it did, but she couldn't. Instead, she stared at him with such longing that even a stranger would have been able to figure out what she was going to do next.
"Get on the fucking bed," she commanded, licking her lips.
"I'll take that as a yes," Draco said, swiftly complying.
The New Year passed just as quickly as the rest of the holidays, and despite Harry and Ginny's insistence that they make an appearance at the Ministry's infamous end of the year base, neither of them had the energy to socialize. Instead, they curled up under a few blankets on Hermione's roof, laughing with each other as they sipped on some mulled wine. They didn't even make it to the fireworks before Draco had divested them of their clothing, whispering her name as he sheathed himself inside her. Hermione didn't even notice the cheers from the street below as the clock inched closer to midnight – she was too busy trying to keep herself from screaming as she came undone – nor did she see the fireworks when the countdown ended. In that moment, nothing else mattered except what they shared together, and at least for Hermione, what Draco was doing with his tongue.
And it's really too bad, because if either of them had been paying attention, if either of them had managed to look out as the fireworks went off around them, they might have noticed the figure watching them from the shadows of the rooftop across the street.
(Timing may be a bitch, but forgetting to mind your surroundings is something else entirely).
With the holidays behind them, they refocused much of their attention on the Munde Openian memory incantation, desperately hoping that they might uncover something they had previously missed. However, all they managed to learn was that as languages evolved so too did the nature of how words were bound to magic, and Hermione found herself confused all over again as to how or why the charm was able to repair any of the boy's memories in the first place.
"Do you think the boy's memories could have been attacked by something ancient?" Hermione asked Draco one morning before they managed to get themselves out of bed for work.
"I suppose it's possible," he said as he ran his finger up and down Hermione's spine.
Honestly, it was a little early for this kind of talk, but if she was going to bring their work home, he really had no reason to complain so long as they were naked while they did it.
"Would a horcrux be able to cause this much damage?" he asked after a moment.
"Voldemort's horcruxes were capable of defending themselves," Hermione answered quietly, her cheek pressed against his chest while his heart beat steadily below. "Ginny was controlled by Tom Riddle's Diary, and the others… they weren't so eager to be destroyed."
A guttural 'hmmm' escaped Draco's throat, but he otherwise remained quiet.
"Do you think a horcrux did this?" she asked, curiously, her fingers tracing the outline of his bicep.
"No," he answered quickly, shaking his head. "I don't think we can necessarily rule out the possibility that one harmed the boy, but I am having a hard time reconciling the idea with the memory of Rodolphus," he paused, moving a hand to play with her curls that were sprawled over the side of his body. "If the boy came into contact with a horcrux, or something like it, why would Rodolphus be involved? Why would he torture the boy? It seems more likely to me that the boy was harmed by a curse than a cursed object."
Hermione sighed in agreement. "I doubt Voldemort would have taught Rodolphus how to create one anyways," she said quietly, moving her fingers to the curves of his chest. "Maybe the curse is what's ancient. Maybe the incantation revealed some of the boy's memories because the words are more similar to whatever curse Rodolphus used than anything we use now," she postulated.
"That seems more plausible," Draco responded. "But it's still puzzling."
"It certainly doesn't help narrow down the possibilities," Hermione agreed before turning to look up at him, resting her chin on his chest.
He could see that look in her eyes, the look that so often preceded the emotional spirals that seemed to be plaguing her more and more frequently these days, and he decided it was time to run interference. Her big, beautiful brain would just have to rest for a little.
"Granger, it's okay to not save the world every single day of your life," he said softly, moving his hand to run through the curls on top of her head. "We will figure this out."
"I wished I shared your confidence," she admitted sadly.
Draco smiled (his stupidly, perfect smile that really only could mean one thing). "I'm only confident because I have you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she said, waving her hand in the air.
"Don't 'oh, please' me," he retorted. "It's the truth."
"Mhmm," Hermione mumbled, doubtfully, before glancing over at the clock beside the bed. "We're going to be late," she groaned when she noticed the time.
She made a move to get out of bed, but Draco, who wasn't quite ready for her to leave, tightened his hold on her.
"And where do you think you're going," he asked, his eyes sparkling as if they were made of freshly polished silver.
"I need to shower," she replied, squirming in his arms. "Then there's this little thing called work. You may have heard of it."
"Work?" he asked, feigning confusion. "Doesn't ring a bell," he added, shaking his head.
Hermione went slack in arms, hoping that if she distracted him long enough, she could find a way to wiggle out of his grasp.
"Not surprising," she quipped, sneaking a hand down his body. "Malfoys aren't exactly known for their–" she paused, tilting her head mischievously "–work ethic."
"How dare you," Draco admonished. "Words hurt, Granger."
Hermione rolled her eyes again. Always so dramatic.
"I'll have you know–"
Her hand reached its destination between his thighs and she closed her fist around him threateningly.
"Fucking hell!" Draco exclaimed, finally releasing her from his hold.
"Language, Malfoy," she admonished before kissing him and quickly racing off to the bathroom before he could recover.
Most of their work conversations went similarly. Hermione frustrated that she couldn't figure something out, and Draco insisting that she would before distracting her with some facet of his deadly charm. Without him by her side, she would have driven herself mad with worry and insomnia, but his presence calmed her. She felt safe with him, safer than she had ever felt with anyone else, and somehow, starting and ending each day in his arms made everything better.
So, when she started to feel a little strange, she thought it was just the stress of the past few weeks finally catching up with her, that being forced to live her life appeasing the public while struggling with the failures of her assignment had just become too much. She thought it would pass, that after a few days she would be back to her old self. Everything always felt better in Draco's arms, and so she ignored the signs her body was giving her that something was off because, in her mind, his touch could cure anything.
But that was before everything came crashing down, and after, well, after she would have given anything for things to go back to how they were, banquet and all.
a/n: Struggled a bunch with this one but didn't really feel I was unhappy enough with it to delay posting… so here it is, even if it is a bit imperfect. I won't say much else except that this chapter is meant to be somewhat of a palate cleanser before I toss you headfirst into some much heavier stuff (laughs nervously).