I'm sorry guys. I'm not sure when the next update will be. Hopefully soon but I promise this story isn't abandoned and won't be!
"Sorry, Red, that's just how it is! The Tutshill Tornadoes have always been my favorite team."
Draco laughs heartily as Ginny scoffs in good heart.
"Well, your 'favorite team' is going down," she grins, returning from the kitchen and taking her place next to Harry once more. "Dinner's almost done. French onion soup and grilled chicken pesto paninis. Then for dessert, Harry's favorite, treacle tart."
Ginny, Harry, and Draco continue their quidditch banter as I quietly sip my wine, observing my best friends and 'fiancé.' Their familiarity suggests we get together often. Draco seems relaxed and in high spirits, and I wonder if we also visit his friends. I resolve to ask him later and continue letting my mind wander while they discuss players and stats.
I watch Draco, letting my eyes rove his face, taking note of the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. I observe the way he holds his glass of Old Odgen's, his Malfoy signet ring upon his left pinky finger. His teeth are white and straight as his lips turn up into a genuine smile. He brushes his fringe out of his eyes and turns to look at me. He grabs my hand, rubbing small circles into the back of it, resuming their conversation about the upcoming match.
Was it always this way? I look between Harry and Ginny, trying to picture their reactions at the beginning of this. Were they understanding or ready to place me in the Janus Thickey ward, sure I'd had permanent brain damage from a spell gone wrong? Were they friends with him before we started dating, or did they become friends because of me?
I think of our non-profit, and it's upcoming annual gala—one of those which, as Astoria told me, Draco proposed to me at. I spin my engagement ring with my thumb, thinking of a theme for this year's event.
"Earth to Hermione!" Ginny waves her hand in my face, "There you are!" She chuckles.
Draco pulls me to my feet and we head into the kitchen for dinner.
"You've been awfully quiet, darling— are you feeling quite right?" Draco whispers to me, still rubbing circles into my hand, worry etched upon his face. His other hand pushes my hair back, and he stares into my eyes.
"Just thinking of our gala," I admit becoming breathless.
My heart begins to race and my palms are slick. I swallow hard, intrigued by my body's continued response to him.
He smiles and pulls me in close. "It'll be great. Mum is beyond happy to see you, as well. She's been aching to see you, but I thought you might need more time getting used to... things."
Harry's green eyes pierce me as he observes our moment from the table and smiles knowingly. Ginny interjects,
"I know you hate Quidditch, Hermione, but it's Harpies vs. Tornadoes, Draco's favorite team, so your presence is required."
Ginny struggles to get James into his high chair and settled.
I groan but shoot them a smile. Draco slips his hand into mine, and I notice Ginny raise a brow to Harry with a smile she fails to keep hidden.
"So, you're getting on well, then?" Ginny directs to me, causing Draco to shoot her a murderous glare.
I wipe the palm that isn't enclosed in Draco's against my slacks, "I suppose I could say yes. It's hard not to with how devoted he is." I give him a small smile, and he squeezes my hand for comfort.
I eat in silence as they talk about previous dinners, parties, and the likes that we've done together over the years. Ginny cries laughing, telling the story of the time a muggle thought Draco was a waiter, and he had to argue with her to convince her he would NEVER be a wait-staff member.
"I barely have to work, much less as a waiter." Draco sniffs with a sense of superiority, as he pretends to be interested in his nails.
After dinner, Harry sets the dishes to wash themselves as Ginny takes James for a bath and bedtime.
"Dinner was divine, Ginevra," Draco teases over our nightcap as soon as she returns.
"Don't call me Ginerva!" Ginny barks out.
Draco tips his glass to her in response.
"Don't say you were never warned if she hexes you one day, Malfoy." Harry chuckles.
"Of course, of course, Saint Potter."
We make our way to the floo, saying our goodbyes. Ginny tells me we need a girl's day before her next game, which she informs me, yet again, my presence is mandatory.
Once we exit the floo, we make our way down the hall stopping in front of the Master Suite, our old room together.
"Goodnight, Hermione," Draco says softly. I'm surprised when he doesn't move to kiss me but instead makes to walk back down the hall to the guest bedroom.
"Stay with me tonight," I say slightly too desperately. "I mean, would you like to stay? Here, with me—tonight?"
He stops his progress and searches my face— for what I'm not sure. His face is a mask that I'm unable to decipher, but, slowly, he comes back until we're inches apart.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Hermione." his breath smells of firewhiskey, and his eyes are glazed over. My mouth forms an "o," as I realize, he's drunk. Between the unknown amount of drinks he had with the boys, and the drinks from dinner at Harry's, he appears to have crossed his limit.
My breath catches as he licks his lips, and the hunger that's evident on his face must be the reason he opted not to kiss me as we said goodnight. I gnaw on my bottom lip, catching his eye, irises blown wide.
"I understand. Goodnight, Draco."
He doesn't budge. Instead, he asks, "Are you sure?"
"We can just sleep," my voice is just a whisper, "right?"
He takes my hand and leads me into our bedroom. I pull the comforter down, grab my nightwear, and slip into the bathroom. I get dressed hastily, brushing my teeth, and throwing my hair together, lest it consume us both. Once I make my way back to the room, Draco is in his shorts only, and my mouth runs dry. He's more handsome with his shirt off than I realized.
We climb into bed, a rift between us due to the size, and I blush, realizing that we've likely made love in this bed numerous times— possibly the last time we shared this bed together. I lay on my side facing him, studying him once more.
His face looks strained as he lies flat, staring at the canopy, and I reach for his hand. As I drift off to sleep, I hear him, light as a summer breeze, murmur, "I love you, Hermione."
I start counting to keep my body under control, stuffing my desire in a file at the back of my mind. Her breathing evens out somewhere around 540 seconds before I finally turn and look at her. It's taking everything in me to keep my erection at bay thinking of the last time we were in this bed together. She rode both my face and my cock until we were sated and spent. Then we intertwined ourselves together, murmuring our affections into each other's mouths as we kissed lazily, drifting to sleep.
My mind is hazy from firewhiskey, and I don't even notice falling asleep until I'm waking, at some point having wrapped myself around Hermione.
Merlin, it feels so freeing holding her, as if this has all been one awful nightmare. I glance at the clock and decide to make her breakfast in bed before heading to Frank's.
I hear the click of her sensible heels before I see her. Her hair pulled into a chignon, donning an emerald green ensemble piece.
My eyebrow arches, "Well, good morning, Lady Malfoy."
She blushes with a small smile, "It's Granger."
I'm removing the eggs from the fire, not thinking before I quip back, "Only for another couple of months."
I hear the tinkle of her dropping the sugar spoon, and I realize what I've said. I turn to face her, and she's stiff, frozen in what appears to be shocked.
"I apologize, habit. It's just we always agreed, once you were Minister," my voice trails off as I swallow and continue, "we'd... get married. It's been planned for some years now. I understand if you don't..."
My voice trails off again, and I'm unable to look at her, so I busy myself levitating the dishes to the table at our breakfast nook. She doesn't speak for several moments.
"Elections are a month away, Draco."
Her voice is small, and her face looks stressed.
"We don't have to talk about this. I apologized, now please, I can't stand to hear you say you don't want to marry me. I think I've lost enough."
I sit at the table, staring blankly at the food I've cooked, yet another memory coming to mind.
Our anniversary, I had tried to cook Hermione dinner, assuming it couldn't be that hard. After all, I'm incredibly skilled in potions. How different can they really be? Apparently, the answer to that is; very. Instead of a 5-course meal, she came home to me siphoning smoke out of the kitchen and stupifying smoke detectors.
What was meant to be a good morning surprise has quickly soured as we eat in uncomfortable silence, only disturbed by the sounds of silverware against China.
Hermione sets the dishes to wash themselves, and I tentatively ask if she'll be joining me to Frank's. Her eyes twinkle at the thought of new books.
"I suppose I always have time for that. Although after, I need to pop into my office at the Ministry, I need everything to be ready for tomorrow. I have an interview with Pavarti about my big comeback," She sighs, appearing to fight a feeling of stress. "I've got to get back out there, Draco, or everything I've ever strived for will all be for naught. I need this, and I'd like your support so you can just wipe that look off your face." She places her tiny balled up hands on her hips. I absolutely love it when she works herself up.
Hermione prowls the stacks of books, both magical and muggle alike, hence her preference for Frank's over any other book shop. She's carrying a large pile on her hip, so lost in browsing that she forgets she can effortlessly levitate them. I grab them from her arms, placing them atop my own smaller collection, and she gives me a small, shy smile.
Her hot and cold behavior towards me is baffling, and I'm unsure of which side of her I'll get. One moment she seems accepting of her new life, yet the next, she's pulling back from me and uncertain.
She makes her way to the counter, and I hear Frank's raspy voice tell Hermione how Sunday's weren't the same without us. She shoots me a quick look, too short for me to decipher what she's feeling.
I pay as she objects, typical Granger, and we make our way outside to apparate home. She tells me that Ginny and herself had plans for a girl's day before Ginny hits the road again, after she finishes at the office and with Pavarti. I kiss her forehead and watch her floo out to the Ministry.
I wander aimlessly around the house, wondering how I'm going to spend my evening alone. As I'm about to owl Blaise and Theo, I find myself at the entrance to Hermione's study. I look over my shoulder and swallow as I slowly push the door open. Everything seems to be in order, but my eyes focus intently on her desk. I rub my palms on my slacks and take several large strides to it. I pull the drawer she acted so suspiciously about.
Locked.
"Alohomora,"
I'm intrigued when it doesn't open. Advanced locking spells? In our own home? I lick my lips and try several more advanced unlocking charms until it glides open. I glance at the door and then pull out the parchment directly on top.
My mouth runs dry. I can feel myself paling and features turning to stone as I'm filled with rage. I take a paperweight and throw it across the study, gaining satisfaction hearing the destruction it causes.
If you know what's good for you, you'll withdraw, mudblood.
I want to upend everything around me, and I feel my magic crackle around me as I start to lose control looking through the various threats. I was right, her blood is the motive. I scream out as loud as I can, feeling it rip through my throat.
"FUCK!"
It dawns on me that while Granger may have found these threats, Hermione is the one who his them. She hid them from me, from Potter, the people most dedicated to her. How could she do this? Why would she hide this from us? For once, since she woke up, I'm pissed at Hermione, as my fiancée, and Granger, as the woman who woke up in a different life.