Sunday, May 16th, 1999
The Great Hall
2:00PM
Hermione's week had been utterly dreadful.
She had been enduring nightmares each night, had spent the entire time not speaking to Draco, had been chastised by Daphne for not handling her relationship with a more mature approach, and had been studying like mad for the exams that were barely two weeks away. It had been a nightmare of a time and now, though she had a Transfiguration essay to polish off and an Arithmancy exam she wasn't certain she'd pass, the final Quidditch match of the season was upon them.
Harry and Ron had decided to attend, primarily at Ginny's insistence, and were meeting Hermione so they could walk down together. Whilst she was to be standing in the Gryffindor section and rooting for her house team, Hermione had still tied a green ribbon around the top of her ponytail for her boyfriend. Everyone around them was either in red and gold or green and silver and tensions had been high all week. Classes had been quiet, partners refusing to speak to each other for barracking for the other team. This was to be truly the only way the lions and snakes could battle out their pent up aggression and Hermione was certain both would utilize it to the fullest extent.
"Hermione!"
She turned at the sound of Harry's voice, his messy black hair bobbing through the crowd in tow with Ron's shaggy red mane. A few of the younger students, mainly first years, turned in awe, whispering behind their hands as they followed the duo with their eyes. The audience only increased when Hermione embraced the pair, truly thrilled to see her best friends after the nightmarish six days she had endured.
"You look exhausted," Harry said, frowning.
"Exams have me stressed," she said, feeling guilty about excluding the other multitude of reasons for the bags under her eyes. "Come on, we're going to be late."
The caught up on each others lives on the walk to the Quidditch pitch, Ron pointing out the green in her hair with a scrunched up nose. Both he and Harry were sporting bright red and gold jumpers, no doubt a product of Mrs Weasley's tireless efforts. Ron rolled his eyes at her gesture for Draco, Hermione choosing to ignore him for fear of her emotions overcoming her at the thought of the unresolved fight.
They climbed the stairs up to the Gryffindor section of the viewing stands. In their eagerness, the boys pushed their way right to the front until the trio were up tight against the railings. The rest of the audience was a clashing sea of colours, primarily Gryffindor, though the Slytherin team had gained quite a following for their prowess on the pitch.
"Hello, everyone." Luna's dreamy voice drifted over the stadium as the gates were lifted for the teams' arrival."Welcome to the Quidditch final of the year. Today we have Gryffindor and Slytherin in competition for the Cup, with sides having equal footing unless either has encountered a Nargle outbreak."
Ron's laughter bristled in Hermione's ear as the teams began to fly out, Gryffindor first, followed by Slytherin who were greeted by a surprising amount of enthusiasm. From her vantage point, she spied Draco as he circled the stadium, eyes glancing down to the Gryffindor stands. She was certain there was no way he could have missed her stare.
"And the quaffle has been released! Gryffindor in possession, their Beater seems quite confident, Mr Creevey, I think, and he's taken aim-,"
There was a groan from the Gryffindor stands as Dennis Creevey's well-aimed bludger sailed past Blaise, leaving the Slytherin free to defend the goals as the quaffle was launched. He tossed it to a free Slytherin chaser who, despite Gryffindor's best efforts, scored to a deafening roar from the green stands.
Though she was trying to pay attention to the main action, Hermione's eyes had drifted towards her boyfriend. Draco was hovering high above the action, clapping along with the crowd and commending his team. He glanced in her direction and Hermione could have sworn he was grinning at her before flying off in search of the snitch.
The game progressed in a similar fashion until Slytherin were ahead by ten points, Gryffindor resting on forty, having just managed to dislodge Blaise from his careful guard of the hoops with a bludger directed to his head. He had ducked in time to avoid brain damage, but the quaffle had found its mark, leaving the crowd to erupt in cheers.
Now, Hermione searched the sky for Draco's blonde hair, seeing him perched almost out of eyesight. As soon as she found him, he darted downwards, seemingly in pursuit.
"It appears that the Malfoy is in pursuit of an herd of gnarliners."
The crowd now joined Hermione in the watching of Draco as he weaved between players, the Gryffindor seeker on fast approach. From the stands, she held her breath, nails digging into her palms as the blonde head duck beneath Ginny in an elegant move. Ginny yelled a profanity at the streak of green as it passed.
"He's going to get it," Harry said from beside her, voice barely a whisper. She could feel the frustrated energy radiating from her best friends as Draco reached forward, wrapping the fingers of his right hand around the snitch. In that moment, a hurtling bludger, directed by Dennis, collided with the front of Draco's broom, where his left hand had been gripping the handle.
Hermione's scream was lost beneath the deafening groans and cheers of the crowd as the win was awarded to Slytherin. No one had registered the brutal collision yet and were all relishing or commiserating, but Hermione had broken free of the crowds and was running down the many staircases until she broke onto the pitch. The teams were just landing and she could see the twist of Draco's face. His feet touched down, snitch still clasped in his right hand, barely managing the landing with his left arm close to his chest.
His teammates surrounded him quickly, noticing the injury, and Hermione had to struggle to break through the huddled green mass. The snitch had been released and lay unmoving on the ground beside Draco. Hermione bent to pick it up, holding it tightly.
"Oh, Draco," she said when she recognized how much pain he was in.
"Hey, Granger," he said, smirking despite the limb he clutched to his chest. "Aren't you even going to congratulate me?"
"Maybe after we get your arm fixed," she said. "Then I'll congratulate you."
He rolled his eyes but let her lead him towards the medical tent set up near the pitch, a new addition since the number of injuries in the inter-house cup had increased, where Madame Pomfrey was tending to a Gryffindor with a sprained ankle and a spectator from Hufflepuff who was suffering from an intense headache following the heated match.
"Madame Pomfrey, please," Hermione said to the consistently busy matron who was bustling between two patients. "I think Draco has broken his wrist."
The nurse chattered about the dangers of the sport and the necessity for more protective gear as she disregarded her two other patients for a few moments in order to look after Draco. She rifled through a case of vials in search of a particular one, instructing Draco to lie down on one of the gurneys that were laid out. He did so, Hermione taking hold of his uninjured hand and sitting beside him.
"I don't know if I'm supposed to apologise," she said. "We were both wrong, I suppose."
"And too stubborn to admit it," he said. His face shifted with pain. "You look tired."
"So do you," Hermione countered, reaching forward with her free hand to touch the circles under his eyes. "I suppose neither of us really benefit from our fighting."
They were interrupted by Madame Pomfrey's arrival, holding a vial with light blue liquid. "Now, Mr Malfoy, if you wouldn't mind holding out your injured arm. This won't hurt at all." She tapped her wand gently against his skin three times before the tip glowed a bright red and there was a sharp cracking sound. Draco yelled out. "Now, take this." She handed him the vial which he swallowed in a gulp, grimacing.
"I thought you said it wouldn't hurt," Hermione said, massaging her hand. Draco had squeezed it with brutal ferocity when his arm was being set.
"I find that telling patients that a procedure will hurt only makes them less inclined to cooperate," Madame Pomfrey said. "Now, Mr Malfoy, I wouldn't try to do any heavy lifting for a few hours, but you'll be back to normal in four hours. Come back to me if there's any persisting pain. Off you go."
They exited the medical tent to be greeted by cheers from the Slytherin team, a sour looking Gryffindor team, complete with a tearful Ginny, and an even more disgruntled looking Professor McGonnagall, who had the Quidditch Cup in her hands.
"Congratulations, Draco," Hermione said, kissing his cheek and stepping aside for his team to gather him to accept the cup. She took her place with the Gryffindors, grinning as her boyfriend took the cup from the headmistress and was hoisted onto the shoulders of his teammates. The Gryffindor team made its departure, Hermione joining them out of respect for her housemates. They trudged back up towards the castle in silence.
Hermione split off from the rest of the group to head to her dormitory, feeling it would be best to change from her Gryffindor colours before attending the Slytherin's celebration. The whole castle was abuzz with the Quidditch match and a few passing students offered her commiserating looks. Despite Gryffindor's loss, Hermione was still thrilled at her boyfriend's performance and their reconciliation. She took the stairs to her dormitory two at a time, a new idea creeping into her head.
She showered quickly, making sure she smelled of strawberries and her hair was as clean as it could be, drying herself off and moisturizing deeply.
Upon reaching her bedroom, she stripped down completely and rifled through her underwear drawer, withdrawing a bra and knicker set that she had bought on a whim when shopping with Daphne over the Easter break. A deep emerald green, they were lace and silk and the most decadent undergarments she owned, costing her a small fortune despite the lack of material they offered. She bit her lip, deliberating for a couple of moments before pulling them on. Over the top, she added a sensible wool sweater dress and tights, tucked her feet into some flat black boots. She kept the ribbon in her hair, a teaser for Draco of things to come.
Later that day
The Room of Requirement
6:00PM
Hermione grinned at Blaise's story, perched on the arm of the chair Draco's chair, his arm wrapped around her to keep her steady. The party was in full swing, the room decorated in typical Slytherin colours with free flowing liquor and even a fully stocked buffet so the intoxicated students didn't have to stumble down to the Great Hall for dinner. Two hours in and the majority of partygoers were blind drunk, ignoring the Monday morning that loomed only a few hours away.
She had indulged in two drinks and was feeling pleasantly warm and comfortable, ready to enjoy the rest of the night. Draco's fingers pulled absently at the fabric of her dress, a firewhiskey in his other hand as Blaise continued with his anecdote, pulling a few laughs from his small audience. They all stopped and turned, however, when they heard raised voices and commotion.
The boys both stood, ready to intervene should a fight take place. Daphne, who had been in the same position as Hermione on Blaise's chair, approached the noise at the sound of familiar voices.
Theo and Astoria were shouting at each other, Theo trying to break away whilst the latter tailed him, mascara on her cheeks, hair in disarray.
"Tori, what's wrong?" Daphne asked, stepping forward to collide with her younger sister and wrap her arms around her. The smaller witch sobbed into Daphne's blouse.
"He's dumping me," she said when she had collected herself, stepping away from the sodden mess that was her sister's shirt. The music in the rest of the party was thankfully loud enough that most of the other guests hadn't noticed the disruption. Astoria rounded on Hermione. "He's dumping me because of you," she accused, jabbing a finger in Hermione's direction.
"Astoria," Daphne said, "don't be ridiculous."
"But it's true, isn't it?" Astoria asked, turning to Theo who was looking exceptionally collected for what was such a turbulent circumstance. "Tell them!"
He had the decency to flush for a moment. "I'm breaking up with you because you're too clingy and needy and it was never going to work between us, anyway. It was just a bit of fun."
"You complete asshole!" Astoria said. Hermione was certain that if she'd had anything heavy in her hand, the young Slytherin would have pitched it at Theo's head. But before she could speculate too much, Astoria had rounded on her. "And you! Princess Granger! What's so special about you? First Draco, then Theo? Why couldn't you just stay with your rotten ginger fiancé?"
Hermione blanched. She had never done anything to hurt Astoria or her relationship, making sure to steer clear of discussing anything at all romantic with Theo for fear he would turn the conversation around to the feelings he had for her.
"Well?" Astoria asked again.
"I never did anything to hurt you, Astoria," Hermione said. "I don't even know you. Honestly, if you think that it is in anyway my fault that boys don't like you, then surely you have some growing up to do. You can't go about projecting your faults onto other people when they might actually lie inside of you. I'm sorry that Theo broke up with you but it has nothing to do with me."
Astoria glared at her, words failing, and promptly turned on her heel and departed. Daphne had a few choice words for Theo before following after her sister, leaving Hermione with the three boys.
"Well, that was exciting," Blaise said. "Who wants another drink?"
"I'll take one," Theo said, he and Blaise resuming the seats that Draco had left. They were soon both holding glasses of firewhiskey, Blaise joking to Theo about how unhappy his fiancée would be thanks to her now brokenhearted sister.
"Granger, are you alright?" Draco asked her, placing his hands on her upper arms. Over her boyfriend's shoulder, she could see Theo watching their exchange.
"Not really," she admitted. "I'm angry."
"At Astoria?"
"Yes. And at Theo, for treating her like that and for making me have to take the blame for the failure of their relationship," she said. "You were right. He just uses them up."
"He's my best mate but he's a complete arse," Draco said. "You don't have to take any of the blame for their messed up excuse for a relationship."
Hermione sighed. She broke her gaze away from Theo, his stare still at Draco's back, and leaned into her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around him. "I know. But I'm just not in the celebratory mood anymore," she said. "You stay. I'm just going to go to bed. You can come up later."
"Granger, I don't want to stay here if you're not here. Theo's going to act like a right prick," he said.
"But it's your victory party," she said.
"I can think of ways you and I can celebrate," Draco smirked. Hermione flushed, her mind wandering to the lingerie she was wearing, and anxiety about whether or not Draco would like it began to set in. "Just give me a minute and we can go." He pulled her towards Blaise and Theo, grabbing his jacket and putting it on. "We're off," he said.
"What, at seven o'clock?" Blaise asked. He had indulged in a few too many firewhiskeys.
"Granger isn't feeling so great after Astoria's little assault on her, so thanks for that, mate," Draco said, clapping Theo on the shoulder. "So we're going to head off and celebrate our own way."
Hermione's cheeks pinked and she was thankful for the ambient light of the party to drown out her discolouration.
"Hermione, can I talk to you for a second?" Theo asked, rising. She saw her boyfriend's eyes narrow.
"I suppose," she acquiesced, making no move to shift from her spot in front of the other two boys. Theo paused for a moment before putting a hand on her lower back to guide her away. They had only walked a few metres – just out of earshot – before she stood her ground. "You know, I don't appreciate being blamed for your inadequacies with your girlfriend. It isn't fair in the slightest that I should have to be yelled at by a silly little girl because you didn't want to sleep with her anymore."
"Hermione, I didn't want you to come into it," Theo said. "But I couldn't keep seeing Astoria."
"Breaking up with her isn't exactly going to change my mind about my relationship with Draco, Theo. I like you," she said, continuing quickly before he got the wrong idea, "but as a friend. I don't want more than that. I'm happy with Draco, happier than I have been in a while."
"You're a mess. You're exhausted and stressed and you've lost weight," he pointed out.
Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to quell her anger. "Pardon me for having nightmares after fighting in The War, for still caring enough to study for exams. My exhaustion must have something to do with my relationship and I'm certain that, were I to break up with Draco and jump into bed with you, all of my problems would be promptly resolved."
And then, withdrawing her wand, Hermione conjured the same flock of birds she had set on Ron back in their sixth year, this time directing them to Theo. Behind her, she could hear Blaise and Draco's raucous laughter, mingled with the frustrated yells of Theo as he fumbled for his wand to vanish the birds.
She felt a familiar arm around her waist and saw Draco at her side, still laughing as he spoke. "We should get going."
They managed to make their escape quickly, Draco having to pause and listen to the drunken congratulations of a few of his teammates and housemates before they were released into the hallway outside the Room of Requirement.
"I was hoping you'd punch him," Draco commented, still grinning.
"No," Hermione said, "I reserve that sort of treatment for you."
He laughed. "You're too kind. That hurt, you know."
"You deserved it."
"I know, I was being a prat."
"You're always a prat."
He came to a stop, reaching out and grabbing her hand to stop her, too, and pull her against him for a long kiss in the middle of the hallway. There were no students about, and they took the opportunity for a thorough snogging session.
"What's the ribbon about?" he asked when she was successfully rendered breathless. "I like it, but the game's over."
"It's part of your present," she said.
"I get a present?"
Hermione smiled at her boyfriend. "Come on. You'll get it when we get back to my room."
She had to refrain from laughing at Draco's eagerness, his persistent questioning about the gift as they walked. Her soured mood evaporated as he doubled his pace, far too excited for the impending present. She had to speed up as well and there were no more distractions or snogging in small spaces for the rest of the walk, just Draco's enthusiasm to pass the time.
When they reached her apartment, he looked disappointed at the lack of physical present awaiting him, which turned to momentary confusion when she took his hand and began to lead him up to the bedroom. By the time she was sitting on her bed, the confusion had transformed to comprehension and a small smirk.
"Well?" he asked as she crossed her legs.
Hermione reached up and undid the ribbon from her hair, dropping it on the bed. "Congratulations, Draco," she said. "You get to unwrap me."
He started at her feet, carefully unlacing her boots and setting them on the floor, then worked his way up to carefully roll her tights down her legs. He took her hands and tugged her gently to her feet, bending slightly to pick up the ribbon she had abandoned. Stepping behind her, he collected her hair and returned it to the ponytail she had held it in all day, tying the ribbon around the curls gently. Then, returning to face her, he reached around and slowly lowered the back zipper to her dress until it fell to the floor.
"Wow."
Hermione blushed. She felt the urge to cover herself up. The intensity of Draco's eyes, molten silver when they looked at her, set her insides on fire.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, gently at first, until her hands began to push back his jacket until it landed on the floor. Her hands moved to the buttons on his shirt, fumbling to unclasp them until the material fell away, too, and her arms went around his neck and her fingers tugged at his hair.
Draco picked her up with ease, her legs wrapping around his waist, and placed her on the bed, crawling so he was hovering above her.
"Granger, you're perfect," he said, kissing her lips, her jawline, the hollow at the base of her throat. He took the time to kiss every inch of exposed skin, Hermione folding beneath him, until he was a puppeteer. With no rush, he moved back up until his lips were against hers once more. "Perfect and mine."
"Yours."