"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation."
Draco watched Daphne lean back against the chaise longue, wick his silver lighter to life and take a deep drag. She'd arrived at the Chateau about an hour ago, in time for Astoria's farewell dinner before they would be taking her to school in the morning.
He frowned at the lighter, "I would have gotten that for you."
Daphne shrugged and exhaled, her eyes holding his. She enjoyed a smoke, but like Draco, didn't like to let Astoria see her indulge, hence their tête-à-tête in his rooms.
Draco also sensed she had something to say to him, and wasn't at all sure he was going to like it.
"Do you think she's ready?" Daphne finally asked, her gaze sweeping away from him to the view of the Provençal sunset.
Draco reached for the lighter. "Fuck if I know." He inhaled his cigarette to life. "She's so good at hiding under all that energy." He also looked out, away. "But what else can we do? I hope so."
Daphne stayed silent.
"What do you think?" he asked.
She shrugged again, shaking her head. "One thing I do think..." her eyes cut back to him and he tensed. "It would be easier for her without you being front page news."
He felt himself ice over and he didn't respond, but he could feel her sharp focus on him.
"What are your intentions, Draco?"
"God, you sound like my fucking mother."
"At least from me it's a legitimate question."
"Is it?"
She just looked at him.
He exhaled and stood up. "My 'intentions' are no one's business but mine." She started to speak, but he held up his hand. "But out of respect to you—and to Astoria, I'll tell you that I'm not planning on ending it any time soon."
Her breath exploded in a little huff. "I like her too, Draco. But if you aren't serious— If you're just fucking around. Or just fucking..." He lifted a brow at her, but she stared him down. "If that's all it is, then it's not fair to anyone. Least of all Astoria. And we both know she's vulnerable."
He looked away and reached for his cigarette case, pulling out another slender cylinder and putting it to his lips. He smoked, waiting out her expectant silence. Finally he heard her sigh.
"Right." She stood up and he heard her soft footsteps move toward the indoors. She turned at the last moment. "We'll leave on the early side, yes? I'll oversee the packing. You've arranged all of the travel?"
This was one of his favourite things about Daphne. She could let things go…and just shift.
He cleared his throat. "Yes, all arranged."
"Ok, I'll see you at dinner." The door closed softly on her exit and Draco leaned back, watching the sun sink below the horizon.
~oOo~
Hermione tidied the last of her books and notes into neat piles. She would be packing up over the weekend and knew it would be easier if her work were organized first. She glanced at the clock, a little fizz of pleasure running through her veins. It was after nine—Draco should be here soon.
He and Daphne had left with Astoria for Beauxbatons on Tuesday morning. The farewell dinner on Monday night had been emotional for Hermione, although she'd tried to hide it. But she was going to miss Astoria. They'd become genuinely close and Hermione was worried about her heading off to a new school. Especially since she couldn't shake the notion that the girl was fragile somehow. But—she brushed the worry away—seeing Draco and Daphne with Astoria, she knew that they would never do anything other than what was best for her. It was remarkable, really—the way they had created a family.
Hermione smiled, remembering Astoria's squeal when she opened her going-away presents: a couple of LPs and Hermione's own copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Hermione had been telling Astoria about the muggle book and thought the silliness might help with any spots of homesickness that might crop up. And Astoria had given Hermione a very sweet letter—thanking her for letting her help with the centaur project and promising to owl regularly from school.
Hermione's eyes went to the clock again. Draco had intended on coming back to France yesterday—he'd told her he had to be in London over the weekend, so they knew these would be their last few days together—but an owl had arrived Wednesday morning informing her that there had been an emergency at the Meadows that would delay his return until late Thursday night. She hoped it was nothing too serious and that they would be able to spend Friday together before he had to rush off again.
She looked around her cozy cottage. By this time next Thursday, she'd be part of the crowd swarming out of the Ministry—maybe meeting Harry and Ginny at the pub or picking up a takeaway. And her supervisor had already scheduled a meeting for her to present her findings from the project to the larger department next week.
Right back into the fire. The idea made her sigh.
Part of her was excited to get back into the fast pace of her normal life—and she looked forward to what would undoubtedly be the challenging task of finalizing the bill. But she was also sad that her days of fieldwork in the sun and peaceful nights in the cottage were almost through. Not for the first time, she wished she could somehow be in two places, live two lives.
The crack of apparition from outside broke into her thoughts and she jumped up, running lightly over to the door and throwing it open even as Draco raised his hand to knock. A slow smile spread over his face as he looked down at her.
"Happy to see me?"
"Yes," she said, not interested in dissimilation. Throwing her arms around his waist, she looked up at him with a smile. He chuckled down at her and she realised that he looked dreadfully tired. He was even more pale than usual and had dark smudges under his eyes, which were glassy and dull. Her hand slid up to cup his cheek. "You look exhausted."
"Thanks?" He half smiled and let her lead him into the flat. "It's been a shit couple of days. I haven't slept much."
Hermione felt a stab of worry. "Did everything go OK with Astoria?"
"Yes, that was fine. Other than that it's always difficult to say goodbye." He sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his temples.
Hermione skimmed her hand over his bowed back. "Would you like a drink?"
"Actually I haven't eaten since breakfast. Although I could just apparate up to the Château and ask the elves—"
"No, no!" Hermione cut in. "Pen made this lovely onion soup—with the gruyere and the crouton and everything. I had a late lunch and was about to warm some. There's more than enough for two." She magicked the stove to life and set the soup to heat.
"Thanks." Draco lifted his head and gave her a faint smile.
"So what else happened? Was it the thing at the Meadows?"
"Yeah." He exhaled a huge sigh. "A patient attacked a medi-witch. She's in pretty bad shape. It was in the PTSD ward. He'd been a torture victim. Something launched him into a psychotic episode."
Hermione's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh no. Will she be OK? How is the patient?"
"She'll live, but likely lose sight in one eye. But she's tough—one of my best. She's already awake and asking when she can get back to work. The patient is…not so great. He had to be heavily sedated. We're hoping when he wakes up, he'll be out of the break, but if he is, the guilt is going to be horrific."
Hermione shook her head in sympathy as she ladeled the fragrant soup into bowls. She slid them onto the table then handed Draco a spoon. "Eat."
He complied, managing to be elegant even when consuming the messy concoction. Hermione poured them two glasses of deep ruby wine and sat down.
After a few moments of silence he spoke again. "The worst part—" he paused to take a deep drink of the wine, and his eyes cut to hers. "This is good."
She nodded once. "Mourvèdre. From Bandol."
He lifted his chin and continued. "The worst part is that every time something like this happens, the group who are opposed to The Meadows use it as a bludgeoning tactic to try and shut us down. They were trying to get my patient sent to Azkaban. That's why I had to rush over there."
Hermione shook her head. "That's reprehensible. Were you able to stop it?"
"Barely. But there will be an inquest. And every procedure and safety measure will be reviewed. Which is fine and should happen, but it will undoubtedly delay my work with the Ministry classification." Draco leaned back in his chair and sighed, his face set.
"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, reaching for his hand across the table. He grasped hers briefly and his demeanor relaxed a bit.
"Thanks, that was very good." He gestured to the soup and his smile glinted briefly at her as he got up and carried their bowls to the sink.
"I can take no credit," she said, hands up. "This was all Penelope. I'm actually an extremely mediocre cook."
"You? Mediocre at something?" Draco's smile emerged again as he cast a washing-up spell, then turned to lean against the sink, arms crossed. Hermione stared stupidly—even half-dead with fatigue, he was so beautiful.
She made a face at his comment and got up to refill their wine glasses, but he reached for her as she passed, pulling her back against his front and wrapping his arms around her. She relaxed into him, leaning her head back into the crook of his neck. He rested his cheek against hers.
"God, I'm so fucking out of it." He did sound almost dazed.
"Well, come to the fire and sit." She twisted and grabbed the wine, leading him over to the soft sofa in front of her huge stone hearth. A quick wave of her wand set the logs within ablaze and he fell longways against the deep cushions, his hands laced behind his head. She busied herself with pouring the wine and arranging throw pillows, then lit a candle as he gazed at her through hooded lids.
"Stop fussing and come here," he commanded, opening his arms again. Hermione raised a brow, but Draco raised his higher. So she went to lay half next to him, half on him, entwining her legs with his and reaching up to stroke his hair.
His eyes closed and he tilted his head into her caress. "All I could think about today was how annoyed I was that I wasn't here with you. Doing this."
Her heart contracted a bit. "I may have been thinking about you too," she replied, angling up to touch his lips softly with hers. He responded in kind, kissing her gently and so sweetly that she sighed with pleasure.
"When you make sounds like that, I feel the strongest compulsion to swiftly remove all of your clothes," he mumbled against her lips, his hand reaching down to sweep against the curve of waist and down to her arse.
She laughed softly and stroked down his neck to his chest, her fingers sliding against the fine fabric of his jumper. She broke the kiss and looked down. "Draco, what is this made of?" Her hand brushed the decadent fabric lovingly.
His eyes rolled skyward, "I tell her I want to undress her and all she does is ask about my jumper. Cashmere, of course."
"Mmm, it's lovely," Hermione ducked her head and rubbed her cheek against him, staring at the flickering flames and taking a deep, contented breath.
"Could you use a bit of magic to just siphon that wine into my mouth?" he yawned. "I find I'm vastly too knackered and comfortable to move."
"Wouldn't want to spill it on your lovely jumper, though," she murmured, smiling against him. The soft rumble of his answering chuckle tickled as her gaze slid to the fire and her mind drifted.
How many more times would there be like this? Just the two of them together and utterly relaxed? She shared her flat with two very nosy people. Draco lived in at least three different places—none of them his alone. What was it going to be like with them both in London—back in their regular lives and busy schedules? She frowned into the flames for a few moments then suddenly raised her head, determined to stop wondering and just ask him. Talk about it. But when she looked up, his eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling rhythmically.
"Ohh, my poor love," she breathed, enjoying the uninterrupted view of his beautiful face, taking in the tracery of blue veins in his eyelids, the fine line of his nose and the lock of pure platinum that had fallen over his forehead. She reached up to very gently trace his molded lips with the pad of her thumb and he barely stirred. He was really out.
Hermione was tired too. She'd taken the opportunity caused by his absence to spend all day with the herd. Now that the work on the bill was essentially done, she was trying to add to the information in the journals, fill in any blank spots, which meant a lot more physical exertion as she shadowed their natural movements. She'd hiked many miles today.
She yawned hugely and contemplated the gorgeous man on her couch. Should she try to get him to bed or leave him? She hated to wake him at all, so she decided he should stay where he was. She carefully got up and tiptoed to her bedroom, coming back with a spare duvet that she draped gently over him. He stirred and turned on his side, burrowing under the thick blanket. A slight smile tugged at her lips, and she reached down to stroke his cheek one last time before snuffing the candle and heading off to her own bed.
A deep slumber was just about to take her when her eyelids suddenly flew open and her head came off her pillow. What had she said when she'd looked up to find him asleep? What had she called him? Her hand slowly snaked to her open mouth as her wide eyes stared unseeing into the darkness. Oh god. Her head sank slowly back to her pillow on a long exhale.
It was a long while before sleep came to find her again.
~oOo~
Draco started in the cool light of very early morning. He was immediately awake and aware that he was in unfamiliar surroundings, wearing his clothes from the night before. He sat up, looking around owlishly before his posture relaxed. Hermione's cottage, of course. He must have fallen asleep on the couch. He rubbed his face and swung his legs over the cushions, stretching as memories from the night before washed over him. He smiled slightly in the dim before pushing up and padding down the hallway to the bedroom. He paused in the doorway to look at her, abandoned to sleep—curls tumbled across the pillow, one arm flung out and a delicate foot peeping from under the sheet. Her pajama top had ridden up and he felt a stirring as he glimpsed the smooth plane of her bare stomach beneath.
Waving his wand, he removed most of his clothing and slid into the bed, slowing for a moment to look at her face; the slight jump of her nose, her dark-winged brows, her perfect mouth. She was so peaceful in slumber, beautiful lips slightly parted.
His gaze must have triggered something deep in her consciousness, because she stirred and murmured, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment she looked startled but then her face relaxed and she reached up to brush his cheek. He caught her hand and held it there, then turned it to kiss her palm. She smiled sleepily and he was caught unawares by the tide of emotion that flooded him.
He reached for her and pulled her close to him, burying his face in her hair. "Thank you for taking care of me last night," he murmured against the dark curls, inhaling their sweet scent. When was the last time someone had cared for him that way? Listened to him and took the time to soothe him? People listened to him, yes, because their livelihood or work depended on it. But this was different. He breathed deeply again, squeezing her against him.
"You're welcome," she mumbled.
He could feel her soft breath against his neck and her hands lightly stroking his lower back. His eyes closed and his mouth quirked up.
"Even if you did make me sleep on the couch."
He felt her answering smile. "You were so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you."
"A likely story. I think you just wanted this big, soft bed all to yourself." His hands slid to the bare skin of her stomach and he grasped gently there, fingers sliding over the satiny texture as he circled her waist. She sighed softly, the sound arrowing straight to his groin. He moved over her and brushed his lips to her neck. She tilted her head back and he trailed soft kisses down to her collarbone.
"I like this bed much better when you're in it," she murmured.
He laughed softly against her shoulder and swept his hands up from her stomach under her pajama top. He deepened his kiss against her neck, and she gasped, digging her fingers into his hair.
Suddenly her hands left him and she was sitting up to remove her top. He assisted with her bottoms and knickers and made quick work of his own boxer briefs.
Gods, it was glorious to be skin to skin with her.
He was unable to resist her dusky pink nipples and took one into his mouth, sucking gently.
She dragged her fingers down his neck to his back, sighing his name. He felt her nails skim his skin as he switched to the other nipple and sucked with more force. "I'l—ohh—make you sleep on the couch more if this is the result," she breathed.
Draco smiled, moving back up to tease her mouth, his palms sliding up to hold her face as he deepened the kiss, trying to telegraph the heightened feelings running through him. He dug his hands into her hair, then suddenly couldn't wait another second to be inside of her. She seemed to feel the same because she was murmuring, "Please, Draco," against his lips. Pulling back, he watched her face as he filled her, her eyes locked on his as her mouth parted in a silent gasp.
He continued to watch her as he moved in and out on the most exquisite waves of feeling. She was so fucking beautiful, pink suffusing her cheeks and ragged breaths exploding from her swollen lips.
"Oh god, you feel so good." Her hands swept down his back again and her legs twined around his hips, pulling him deeper.
She reached up and pulled his lips down again and he mumbled incoherently against her—something about how stunning she was, how equisite she felt.
"I want to see you," she said and gently moved from under him, pushing him onto his back and moving over him, placing her small hands on his chest, her right hand just over his rapidly beating heart.
She slid down him achingly slowly, and it felt so amazing that he arched his neck, hissing-in air, his hands convulsing around her waist. "Hermione, gods," was all he could manage to say.
Rolling her hips, she tipped her head back and moaned his name. The sound almost undid him and the sight of her very nearly put him over the edge. He concentrated on staying in the moment—not wanting to fly off just yet.
She straightened and then bent over him, her silky hair draping across his chest and shoulders and her lips brushing against his. He reached up to meet her, passion coursing through him.
Every time with her, he was taken unawares at the intensity of emotion and physical feeling. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced—and he wasn't inexperienced—but with her it was different, more.
He reached down between them to caress at her core, stroking as she gasped sharply, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "I'm so close, Draco, god."
Good, because he was close too.
He felt her begin to tighten and let himself go to pure feeling. Her sweet tongue twining with his, the warm velvet of her walls pulling on him, her nails biting into his skin, her hair brushing his nipples.
And emotion. Like he'd never felt before.
"Gods, you are so sweet, so perfect," he whispered raggedly, wanting to give it voice. "Being with you is perfect."
She started coming, moaning against his lips and increasing her pace, which completely shattered him, his release peaking into a sharp crescendo that ripped a groan from him before spreading out in waves of pure joy.
Eventually she collapsed on him and his arms went around her, his fingers lazily stroking her back. Their breath, in sync, slowly went back to normal and Draco moved gently to twist them around so that she was underneath him.
He looked down at her in the dim light, into the dark velvet of her eyes, and realised he'd never felt so content and so…happy? Was that it?
She reached up and touched his jaw with a single fingertip, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly and her eyes roving his face. He bent down to kiss her softly, just to brush at her lips with his, and was surprised at the fierceness with which she grabbed him, pulling him to her and ravishing his mouth possessively. He also liked it—very much. And he willingly followed her into the depths of the kiss, breaking it only when she pulled back several moments later.
They stared at each other again. She took a deep breath and he thought that she was about to speak, but instead she just exhaled, turned on her side and pulled him against her back, again rather fiercely. He wrapped himself around her and stared into the dim until sleep took him again.