Thank you to all my lovely reviewers from this past week. Your words and thoughts mean the world to me. Whenever I get a notification that one of you lovely people has reviewed, my day is instantly brighter.
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This week's chapter resumes The Gift of Joy's normal format. So please sit back and keep your hands, arms, feet, and legs inside the vehicle at all times. Because you're going for a ride.
Draco sat at his desk and stared at a blank page his journal, wishing text would materialize. It had been two days since he had written to Hermione and he hadn't yet heard back. Granted, it wasn't the longest she had taken to respond to him, but something about Ginny leaving on the Hogwarts Express yesterday unnerved him. He hadn't gone to see her off on the train. That would have been really stupid of him. Platform 9 ¾ would have been crawling with Death Eaters, and chances were high that someone would have recognized him.
No, he had stayed at the Burrow with Mundungus Bleeding Fletcher while a small handful of Weasleys herded Ginny off to her sixth year. He had to spend the better part of a day listening to Mundungus count out money and spit-shine some old dinnerware from an old witch who had recently kicked the bucket in hopes of selling it. Just the thought of those transactions made him feel disgusted. He was grateful when everyone returned from the station. Ginny had been given orders to owl as soon as she arrived, but when evening rolled around and they still hadn't heard anything from her, everyone – especially Mrs. Weasley – grew uneasy. Knowing that Severus was now in charge at Hogwarts gave Draco a pit in his stomach. He never could quite tell what the slippery bat was thinking or why, and he wasn't sure if that uncertainty would bode well or poorly for Hogwarts students.
Ginny's owl flew in through the kitchen window shortly before midnight. Though devoid of details, Ginny informed them of her safe arrival at Hogwarts.
Draco visibly shuddered, despite the warm summer breeze blowing in from the open window. He was glad not to be going back. Hogwarts had become someplace twisted and beyond recognition. It was no longer a place of wonder or a second home for him, but instead, the unfortunate location of his most devastating emotional turmoil and failure.
No, he didn't want to see Hogwarts again until this damn war was over. And even then it might be too soon.
Draco doodled on a piece of parchment. Really, Hermione should be writing. He felt on edge, as though there was a reason she hadn't written yet. After Mrs. Weasley's sudden interruption in the middle of his last message, he had returned to write a long note back, clarifying what he meant when he wrote 'I love you.' To say those words to someone was a big deal to him; as he had explained to her, those words had never been included in any letter written to him. Even from his parents.
His mother had always signed her letters "Fondly" or "Affectionately," and that was the closest thing he had to compare it to. Not that she hadn't shown him love in her actions, because Draco had never doubted how much his mother cared for him. But to see the word "love" written on a page in association with him had made him feel something he couldn't quite articulate. Something like a twinge in his chest that didn't seem to ever stop.
What would it be like to hear her say those words?
"I love you," he whispered to himself, practicing forming the words on his lips.
It tasted funny on his tongue. Out of place. He certainly hadn't told anyone he loved them since he was a little boy. His mother had occasionally said it until he went off to Hogwarts, but Draco wasn't even sure if he had any recollection of his father saying those words.
The only possibility was a sleepy memory from around ten years ago. Draco had been seven or eight years-old and had woken up to the sound of Lucius Malfoy's voice speaking softly, whispering five distinct words: "I love you, my Draco."
Whenever he felt like his father was too much of a bastard who only cared about power and money, his mind would automatically carry him back to that night, and his hardened heart often softened. Ever since that night on the Astronomy Tower, those five words seem to play on repeat in his mind whenever he thought of his father. It was practically the only thing that kept him from completely hating the man.
Yet, he wasn't even sure it was a real memory. Perhaps it was something his mind had made up to comfort a younger version of himself. He really wasn't sure.
So when that word – love – materialized into his journal, Draco had been flooded with all kinds of emotions he hadn't been expecting. Of all the people in the world, he never would have thought that the first person to say "I love you," to him in over four years would be Hermione Granger.
Draco paced back and forth until he was sure he wore a hole into the floor, brain stuck on the notion that Granger loved him.
Hermione Granger loved him. Actually, truly, unbelievably, incredibly, miraculously loved him.
The thought brought a smile he couldn't erase to his face. It was like he was floating. Draco hadn't felt so light in years. Knowing that she loved him certainly didn't rid him of the weight that constantly sat on his chest, but somehow, it felt easier to bear.
Draco sat down and pulled the journal toward him again. He traced her words with his finger, careful to not leave out any millimeter of script.
When he had written back to Hermione, he wrote of those words' importance to him. Of how he meant it completely when he told her he loved her. That he was all in. That he would wait for her, no matter how long her journey with Potter and Weasley took. He didn't want her getting any notions in her head that he wouldn't wait. Hogwarts had given him an unfounded reputation, and he didn't want her to even consider the idea that he would ever be unfaithful. No, Draco Malfoy would remain true to Hermione. That was the message he had poured out to her.
And she still hadn't responded.
Draco thought he would go mad just sitting there at the desk, so he began to pace once more.
As he walked back and forth, he took out his pebble and rolled it in his palm. Somewhere out there, Hermione's pebble was warm.
The only problem?
His pebble remained cool to the touch. It had for the past twenty-four hours.
That, more than anything, concerned him.
The possibilities of what could be going on had been swirling in his head like a damn tornado since his pebble had gone cold yesterday. Was she in trouble? Was she in any danger? Did she lose the pebble? Was she just busy? Was she disgusted by his intense proclamation of love?
He had no fucking clue. He continued to pace.
As the sun travelled lower in the sky, Draco moved back and forth between the middle of the bedroom and the desk several times, not content to stay in the same place for long.
His feet dragged him across the floor for the thousandth time that day. Just as the sun began to cross the horizon line, Draco was about to give up and lie in bed until Mrs. Weasley called him for when his pebble grew warm. The anxiety in his stomach and chest melted away as he squeezed the pebble back.
But then an odd thing happened. The pebble grew hot and then cooled off, and then back to hot again. It was as thought it was pulsating – as though Hermione was squeezing the pebble and then letting it go repeatedly. Why would she do something like that? Was it just unconscious stress relief for her?
No, it couldn't be. Nothing Hermione did was truly unconscious or unintentional.
She must be trying to get his attention. Feeling excitement in his veins, he leapt to the desk and tore the journal open. Sure enough, Hermione's script began to fill the page. He watched as letters morphed into words, which he read greedily.
September 2
Draco, I need you. I can't think straight. I just need you.
Come to Princetown. Wear muggle clothes. There's a bookshop with a blue sign. Look for blonde hair.
I'm waiting. I'll be gone in an hour.
Hermione
Draco paled as he read. He had wanted Hermione to write, but a letter with this tone was not what he had been expecting. In fact, it made everything worse. What was going on? Why was her writing so clipped? Was something wrong? Had he done something wrong? Oh, Merlin…
Taking several steadying breaths, Draco managed to calm himself enough to throw on a familiar pair of shorts and a T-shirt they had purchased over the summer. He scribbled a note on a bit of spare parchment saying he was going for a walk and left it on his desk. Wand in hand, he opened the bedroom door a few inches and listened to the sounds of the Burrow. He was met with nothing but Mrs. Weasley's footsteps further upstairs in another bedroom.
Draco crept toward the first floor, pausing every few steps to make sure Mrs. Weasley didn't come down. The wooden steps at the Burrow were notoriously squeaky, and Draco winced each time a stair groaned. Once he reached the first floor, he tiptoed through the kitchen to the back door. Keeping his movements as silent as possible as he exited, he raced across the garden and the orchard, past where he knew the wards carried.
He paused only briefly as he passed the willow tree that held such a dear place in his heart.
Destination. Determination. Deliberation.
Princetown.
The world ceased to exist for mere moments as Draco was hurled through space toward Hermione. When he reappeared, it seemed he had apparated behind a café in a quaint village. He made sure to place a glamour on himself – dark eyes and chestnut hair – before moving out of the alley. His glamour charms weren't as good as Hermione's, but he didn't have time to make it any better.
Draco walked down the cobblestone street, breathing in the fresh air. It was the first time in far too long that he had the privilege of being his own chaperone. The feeling was freeing, and he wished he had time to savor it. But no. He had Hermione to think about. She was here somewhere and needed him.
As he searched for the bookshop she described, he briefly considered that it might be a trap. The note had been quite out-of-character, and for Hermione to request his presence during this difficult mission was certainly odd. She had previously made it seem as though they would definitely not be seeing each other for a long time.
Yes, he supposed, it could be a trap. In fact, his self-preservation alarm was blaring in his mind, telling him to turn back. But if Hermione needed him, he had to be there. Surely, with all the enchantments Granger had put on their journals, someone using it to lure him out of safety struck him as unlikely.
Still, he kept his left hand firmly gripped around his wand, which sat just inside his pocket.
Draco wandered past pubs and various shops, his eyes searching each building top to bottom for any sign of a bookshop or a blue sign. After several minutes, he spotted a likely candidate on the street corner across from him. Its storefront was filled with shelves of books on display and a blue sign hung from above the door. Sighing with relief, Draco rushed to across the street. Pulling the front door open, the jingle of a bell reverberated through the shop. Draco stepped inside and the smell of well-worn pages and musty book covers met his nose. Yes, if Hermione was anywhere in this town, this would be it.
The shop was set up with several aisles facing him so he could peer down each one as he walked by. Draco started at one end and began to walk by each aisle, peering down for any trace of the girl he loved. With each empty aisle, his heart began to pound harder in his ears. This had to be it. She had to be here. If he didn't find her by the end of the hour, he wasn't sure if he could live with himself..
There she was.
He found her perched on the edge of a wooden chair in the fifth aisle, her nose buried in a thick volume, her knees bouncing. As promised, her bushy hair had been turned a sunny blonde. With a sigh of relief, Draco approached her. He walked so close that he could reach out and touch her if he wanted. And oh, how he wanted to. Here, at last, was his Hermione. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and kiss her. But with the note she had written… he had no idea what to expect. What had she experienced to make her write such in such a frantic fashion?
"Hermione," he whispered, squatting down in front of her.
The reaction was instantaneous. Hermione jumped nearly a mile and squeaked. Her eyes flitted up toward him, her expression pained. He could feel the nerves radiating off of her in waves.
She didn't smile when she saw him, but her expression softened considerably. When she began to speak, it was in a rigid whisper.
"Thank you for coming."
Draco wasn't sure what reaction he had been expecting, but it hadn't been anything like this. Cold. Factual. The only thing that gave him hope was the way her eyes shone as he soaked in her presence. He searched for clues to help him guess how she was feeling or what was going on, but she gave away nothing.
"Yeah. I snuck out of the Burrow. What's… er… what do you need?"
She looked him in the eye, her gaze burning with intensity. "First, I need to confirm that it's really you. And you should confirm with me."
He nodded.
"During our third year you insulted Hagrid in front of me, Ron, and Harry. How did I react?"
Draco felt himself smirk. "I do believe you slapped me. Rightfully so, I might add."
Hermione's mouth twitched in response, a smile ghosting her face before immediately disappearing.
"My turn. Okay. What flavor of ice cream did you order for us whenever we visited the ice cream van this summer?"
Hermione paused for a moment before answering in a whisper, "Magnum bars."
He smiled at the memory, placing his hand on hers. "That's right."
Draco paused, waiting to see if she would begin talking. When she didn't, questions came pouring out of him. "Why did you call me here, Hermione? Are you all right?" He hoped that these questions would have relaxed Hermione a bit, but she seemed as tense as ever, her knee still bouncing.
"Can we…can we go somewhere a bit more private?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Draco nodded without thinking, unable to take his eyes off the girl he had been dreaming about for the past month. Other than her blond hair, her appearance hadn't changed that much. The main thing Draco noticed was the hollow look in her eyes, as though she had been through hell and back. It was like her eyes had seen something horrific that couldn't be unseen.
Draco knew that look. He had seen it before. He had worn it.
When Hermione stood and replaced her book on the shelf, Draco wrapped his left arm around her, placing his hand firmly around her waist. The other hand sat in his pocket, his fingers gripping his wand. If she hadn't been so clearly preoccupied with something, Draco would have felt in absolute heaven to have her in his arms once more. But the situation being what it was, he tamped down those feelings to keep his focus. They walked out of the bookshop together, Hermione guiding him toward an inn in whispered directions. The sky faded to purple as they weaved through the Princetown streets. With each step they took, Draco was becoming more concretely aware of Hermione's presence beside him. Her soft curves. Her wild curls. Her scent. He couldn't stop himself from cracking a small smile. The grin stayed until he realized that Hermione was shaking in his arms, her own expression glazed over. Draco squeezed her closer to him and pushed forward toward their destination. What had she been through that would make her shake like this?
Just as they had done in Ottery St. Catchpole earlier in the summer, they got a room at the inn Hermione suggested under pseudonyms, this time choosing to be Elise and Will Bearden – cousins. Hermione confunded the man at the front desk just in case.
As they wound their way upstairs, Hermione's shaking subsided and she reached down to grip his hand, her grip firm. He held her hand tightly in return. Draco was getting the sense of how much Hermione needed to hold on to him – to something solid. She had taken the lead up the stairs, and now looked back and met his eyes. His heart immediately clenched at all the emotions conveyed in that one look.
Confusion. Want. Pain. Panic. Love. Desire. Desperation.
Draco returned her eye contact with a look he hoped was reassuring. Standing outside their room, she fumbled with the key, her hand shaking once more as she tried to insert it into the lock. Draco placed his hand on her shoulder, and she gazed up at him as took the key and unlocked the door. By the time he opened the door, his heart was pounding in his throat.
They didn't break eye contact as they stepped inside, nor as Draco cast a locking charm and muffliato. They didn't look away as they removed the glamour charms. Hermione took great, heaving breaths as she kept her eyes on him. Draco walked toward her until they were chest-to-chest, and she gazed up at him with those same emotions.
Pain. Panic. Love. Desire. Desperation.
Draco cradled Hermione's face in his right hand and she leaned into the touch, closing her eyes.
"You're shaking like a leaf, Hermione. What's going on?" Draco posed the question as she continued to breathe heavily.
Hermione opened her eyes and stood straight, her eyes piercing his. Those chocolate eyes he loved so dearly were burning with determination, and before he had time to process what was happening, Hermione stepped forward and crashed her lips into his.
Draco knew that something was clearly wrong, and he really wanted to stop and ask Hermione what was causing her to act like this. But after he felt her sweet taste on his lips and tongue, any and all thoughts fell away and were pushed to the back of his mind. Talking could come later. All that mattered was right in front of him. While he pushed his tongue into her mouth, she backed him into the wall of their room. He responded in kind with enthusiasm, moving his hands from her chest and onto her arse.
She moaned in response and the sound made his groin feel rather tight. Hermione must have noticed, because she moved one of her hands to the front of his shorts, cupping his growing erection in her palm.
"Do you like that, Draco?" she whispered in his ear.
Goddamn. He held in a groan and managed to choke out a soft, "Hermione?"
"Yes?" she replied, pressing more firmly into his erection. Draco hissed, but tried to keep his focus. As much as he wanted to – as much as he tried to fight it – he couldn't just let this happen without talking to her first.
"Are you… are you sure you're all right? I don't want you to think that I only came looking for you because I wanted to sleep with you. I was really worried something was wrong."
Hermione broke eye contact and looked down. Her hand fell away from his body and she stood limply before him. Shit. Was she going to cry? He braced himself for her tears, but they never came. Instead, voice was determined, her eyes shining.
Love. Desire. Desperation.
"I'm not all right, Draco. I'm not. But right now, what I need is you." Hermione's eyes darted to his lips. "I need to feel you. I can't explain it, but I need you right now. Can you help me? Can you touch me and let me give myself to you?"
Hermione's irises danced back and forth as she asked the question. Draco swallowed a great lump in his throat. His heart beat an erratic thump as he felt himself nodding. Part of his brain still pushed for him to stop – to not allow Hermione to give into these impulses she might regret later – but she was pushed against him and her scent was intoxicating. Something delicate and flowery. Draco leaned down and buried his face in her neck, inhaling. He wanted to capture the way she smelled in his memory. Hermione's hands rested firmly on his back.
"Gods, I want you," he murmured into her skin.
"Then take me, Draco. I'm yours."
Draco growled and began to suckle on her jaw. Hermione leaned back, allowing for better access and moaned as Draco crushed their bodies together. He felt every inch of her breasts pressed against his chest and the soft mounds sent jolts of desire down to his cock. Hermione grabbed his head with both her hands and guided his mouth to hers, her tongue ready to explore his mouth.
Draco found himself with his back pressed against the wall once again, and Hermione was already pulling at the hem of his T-shirt. Never breaking their kiss, Draco unzipped Hermione's jumper and made quick work of her blouse and bra. The offending items fell to the floor unceremoniously. Draco moved his hands to her breasts without hesitation, flipping their position to be more in control.
Hermione's breasts were soft and pliant in his hands, and he rolled her nipples in his palms. She groaned and grabbed the waistband of his shorts, pulling him backward toward the bed. The two tumbled onto the mattress. Draco lowered his face and took her delectable left breast into his mouth, kneading the other with his right hand. Hermione bucked into him and reached down to undo his shorts.
The feel of Hermione's tits and the anticipation of the friction that awaited him made him thrust involuntarily. He grunted. Even through his shorts and her jeans, he could feel the heat coming from her core.
"Fuck, Hermione," he rasped as he removed his mouth from her breast, his eyes drifting to her face.
"That's the idea," she smirked. Her eyes were filled with nothing desire now, and Draco felt the rest of his blood flow directly to his groin. Hermione made quick work of his shorts and boxer briefs and Draco felt them slide down his legs. He kicked them away, eager to return to the gorgeous creature underneath him.
Draco growled and leaned forward to bite her lower lip. She met his aggressive kiss with bruising enthusiasm. As his mouth tangled with hers, he reached down under her jeans. She took the cue and shimmied out of both them and her knickers, leaving nothing between them but the delicious friction of their skin.
They continued kissing and touching for another moment before Draco suddenly found himself with his own back on the mattress. Hermione had flipped them over, and she now straddled him. Draco savored this new angle, soaking in the way her breasts looked and the way her hair hung over them like a lovely curly curtain. She gripped his cock in her hand and began to stroke him. He didn't think that he could have gotten any harder at that point, but her gorgeous little hand had him thrusting into the air, gasping with pleasure.
And then, with another sudden movement, Hermione scooted forward and up and lined herself up with him. He could feel how wet she was. The apex of her thighs sat just above him, and he could smell her from where he was lying on the bed. This scent wasn't floral, but earthy and sweet. He swallowed as she looked at him, her eyes asking permission. He nodded.
Half a moment later, Hermione plunged herself onto him with a moan. Draco practically saw stars. She was warm and tight and absolutely perfect. Just as he remembered. Hermione started to move on top of him, rocking her hips into his. He stared as his girlfriend closed her eyes and concentrated on her movements. She seemed to be searching for the right rhythm as she bounced up and down; every few seconds, her pattern would change. He could sense her frustration and mild embarrassment as her face scrunched up in a frown, her cheeks turning light pink. She was so goddamn adorable. Draco was about to say something when she managed to move her hips at just the right angle so he found himself buried completely inside her.
Instead of commentary, all that came out was a gasp followed by a low, "Fuck."
Hermione seemed to take the cue, and she repeated that exact motion. Draco was in utter heaven. He reached up to grab her breasts as she bounced on him. His hips bucked and soon they were lost in a haze of panting and thrusting. After a couple minutes, Hermione's movements began to slow, and the thought floated through Draco's mind that she might be getting tired.
He reached behind her, taking a firm hold of the middle of her back and flipped them over so Hermione was splayed out under him, careful to make sure their connection wasn't severed. She squeaked in surprise, her eyes flying wide open as Draco leaned over her, his legs now firmly planted on the ground beside the bed. He grabbed her arse and pulled her so she was aligned with the edge of the mattress.
Draco covered her body with his, placing his hands on either side of her face. He lowered his mouth to her ear.
"I'm going to fuck you now, Hermione Granger," he whispered, taking great pleasure at the way his words made her shiver and gave her goose pimples. She reached up and clung to his neck as he began thrusting, slowly at first. After filling her slowly four times, he pulled back all the way, letting his tip tease her entrance. Then, without hesitating, he slammed into her, setting a new pace.
Hermione cried out as he pounded into her, which only egged him on. The sound of flesh slapping filled the air and Draco quickly felt pressure build up in his groin. He kept his eyes trained on Hermione as she writhed beneath him, her breasts moving in time with his thrusts, and her eyes squeezed shut. Even though Draco wanted to last longer, he couldn't stop the sudden tsunami of pressure that was bubbling up.
With two more thrusts, Draco came in an explosion of light, color, and feeling. He didn't withdraw, but collapsed on top of Hermione, his cock still buried within her. His slick torso made contact with her own and he smiled into her cleavage, kissing the salty skin there. Hermione responded by lifting her head up to kiss his forehead.
"Wow," was all he managed to say. His mind was blissfully blank for the first time in a month.
"All that and the only word you can say is 'wow'?" he heard Hermione say from above him with a soft snort.
"Well, my lady, I deeply apologize. I'm having trouble finding the right words. So excuse me if I didn't pull out a thesaurus immediately after to compose a poem."
Hermione belted out a hearty laugh and Draco felt her whole body shake in a short moment of joy. He lifted his head off her chest to get a proper look at his girlfriend's smile. Pulling out of her, he drew his knees onto the bed and peppered her chest and neck with kisses. Hermione giggled as he moved higher. Draco grinned from ear to ear. Gods, he had missed that sound. He didn't think he would hear any more laughter while this damn wore continued on and on. But here he was, in some tiny inn in the middle of nowhere with his girlfriend laughing under him.
He wanted to bottle this moment and wear it around his neck. He wanted to savor the way her eyes crinkled around the edges when she smiled. He wanted to memorize the taste of her skin and her lips and the curve of her breast in his palm. Hermione Granger was so lovely. So very lovely.
He was the luckiest bastard in this twisted, cruel world.
With a solitary, soft kiss, he pulled Hermione up to a sitting position and rolled to sit beside her. The smile on her face had turned from joyful to wistful, and she now fidgeted with her hands in her lap.
"You okay?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Hermione shook her head.
"Can you tell me anything? Can I say anything to help?"
"I…I'm scared, Draco." She turned her head to look at him. "I just need to feel safe. Can you make me feel safe?"
Draco's eyes went wide with concern. He was about to express his worry and press her for more information but thought twice. As much as it pained him to purposely stay in the dark, he wasn't an idiot. Whatever Hermione was doing with the hapless Gryffindor duo was top secret for a reason. He wanted this war to end just like everyone else, but it wasn't just that. He wanted a world where the two of them could walk the streets hand-in-hand without fear by day and spend their nights in never-ending bliss.
And that would never happen if whatever this secret scheme was became known to him or anyone else. She wanted safe? He couldn't offer that, precisely, but he could offer her the familiar. He changed directions.
"Have you been doing something reckless, then? I honestly shouldn't expect anything less from a bunch of Gryffindors." He made his tone as sarcastic and condescending as possible, raising an eyebrow.
Hermione gave a small lopsided smile in return. "You could say that, I suppose."
Draco leaned over and kissed her cheek. He nuzzled her neck and took in a deep breath through his nose. Hermione's flowery scent filled his nostrils.
"Ew, don't smell me! I'm so sweaty!" Hermione pushed him away.
"I think you smell delectable, Granger." He leaned in once more and inhaled. "You are completely delectable here," he breathed in the scent from her hair.
"And here," he moved to her lips, "and here." Her chest. "Here." Her stomach.
Draco slid off the bed and knelt before Hermione. She let out a small gasp as he placed his hands on her thighs and glanced upward before spreading her legs. "And here."
He buried his face between her legs and licked her. Her juices tasted just like she smelled: sweet and earthy. He could taste his own salty seed as well. The mixture of the flavors in Hermione's most beautiful – most guarded place made him shiver with pleasure and he felt himself grow hard again.
Hermione keened when his tongue flicked the nub at the top of her opening. He licked again experimentally, and she repeated the sound with greater enthusiasm. She hadn't made those sounds just now. Had she finished?
He moved his mouth away. "Hermione, before, did you… did you come?"
Hermione blushed and cleared her throat. "I… I didn't. It was really nice, though. I did last time…" Her words faded to a whisper as she looked up
"It seems we'll have to do something about that, then, won't we?"
Draco smirked at Hermione and before she could react, he delved back into her with his tongue, attacking her with all his concentration. He found her nub once more and got to work. Within moments, he had her squirming and moaning. Her fingers threaded his hair and pulled, mixing both pleasure and pain. Draco was surprised to find he enjoyed the combination. He continued lapping at her until Hermione howled above him and went still.
Her body melted beneath him as he pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Draco vowed to never forget the expression on Hermione's face as she sat up to look at him. Her chocolate eyes were unblinking and molten; her pink lips were barely parted. She was looking at him as though he was her entire world. Her gaze seemed to penetrate his entire being and Draco felt his heart thump in his chest.
Hermione stood and walked just past him, trailing her hand behind her so it grazed his cheek. Draco turned and reached out to take her hand in his own.
"Fancy a bath?" She smiled over her shoulder and led him to the pristine bathroom, where she leaned over the large claw-foot tub to fiddle with the knobs. Draco took the opportunity to soak in her form.
He had been right this summer. Her arse really was spectacular.
When the water had filled the tub, he climbed in before Hermione and beckoned her to lean back into him. She nuzzled into his chest and sighed. They sat in the water in contented silence for several minutes. Draco dripped water from his hand onto her, watching the droplets running down her shoulder.
"Thank you for coming to find me, Draco," she said after some time.
"I'll always come find you." He leaned forward and kissed the back of her head, smiling into her hair.
"That's a promise I'll hold you to, you know."
Hermione turned and kissed him, holding his face in her hands. He was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
"Hermione? What's wrong?"
"I lied to come and meet you, you know," she began, turning her body so she faced him, her legs wrapped around his waist in the chest-high water. "Today was… difficult. I should be back with Harry and Ron right now, but I chose to be with you. I needed to be with you."
"Difficult? Why? What happened?" Draco frowned at her growing distress.
"I… I can't say. I'm sorry." Hermione sniffed as a tear fell into the tub. "But suspect you may find out the basics from some witnesses or even the Daily Prophet."
"Are you all right? I mean, clearly three of you did something dangerous and made it out alive, but how are you feeling? Even just witnessing something traumatic can leave you feeling awful for days." Draco didn't feel the need to elaborate. She would know to what sort of events he was referring.
"I'm just really shaken up, honestly. I felt completely turned around and overwhelmed when we were finally out of the woods."
And then Hermione did something unexpected. She let out a small laugh.
Draco tilted his head. "Something funny?"
"Just a funny choice of words on my part is all. Double meanings. You know."
He didn't, really, but chose to nod along anyway.
"In any case, seeing you there in that bookshop – even if you were glamoured – it felt like…" she paused, as if searching for the right words. "…it felt like coming home for the first time in a long time. I thought you should know that."
Draco felt his heart flutter. He may have been more expressive than her when he wrote, but how was Hermione Granger always so good with words when she spoke?
"I feel the same way," he began, stuttering a bit. "Wherever you are feels like home."
"Well then, Draco," she whispered, "Welcome home."
Hermione brushed her lips against his. Draco smiled into the kiss and deepened it, pulling his girlfriend closer. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he felt her slick breasts press against him. Their tongues explored as Draco rubbed her back, wet from the bathwater.
This time nothing felt urgent; nothing was rushed. Draco took his time feeling every inch of Hermione's gorgeous body and she seemed to be doing the same, running her hands over him. When he entered her for the third time ever, he did so with care and deliberation, trying to make the time pass more slowly. With every unhurried thrust, water sloshed around the tub, ebbing and flowing around Hermione's breasts. Draco somehow found the sight so erotic that he wanted to come on the spot. Thank Merlin they had already had sex once that day; he was only able to hold back because of that.
This sex was unlike what they had done before. That had been fucking. Pure and simple. This… this was something else. The way their bodies moved together in the water was beyond pleasurable. It was almost religious, the way that they were connected, edging them toward mutual bliss. Her body was his and his body belonged to her, and something about that felt immensely right. Was this what making love was supposed to feel like? Was that what they were doing?
The very thought that he was making love sweetly to Hermione Granger was enough to put his mind into overdrive, and his thrusts grew harder and faster. Draco reached between them and rubbed Hermione's clit until she began to moan. Friction began to build up and the combination of all that pressure and Hermione's soft whines in his ears drove him over the edge. He cried out her name as he spilled his seed, her walls seeming to drink it in as they pulsed around his cock.
Completely spent, Draco leaned against the back of the tub. He felt Hermione move off of him and step out, water dripping onto the tile floor. His heart fell a bit; he had wanted to cuddle her close after that – never let her go.
She pulled a towel over herself and padded back to the bedroom. Seconds later she gave a loud yelp. Eyes wide with alarm, Draco scrambled from the tub, snagging a towel as he sprinted out of the bathroom.
He found Hermione furiously drying herself off, her knickers in hand.
"Hermione? What's going on?"
"I hadn't realized the time… I've been gone far too long."
"You're… you're going? Right now?" Draco's stomach bottomed out as he tried to piece together the situation before him. He wasn't ready to say goodbye. Not yet. Not when he hadn't ever felt closer to Hermione. Not after they had just experienced that moment together. Had she felt the same depth of feeling he had? The afterglow Draco had been basking in was snuffed out as Hermione jumped into her trousers.
"I have to. Like I said, I lied to come meet you. Harry thinks I've gone to scout out the area. We have… we have a lot to talk about and do when I get back."
"I see." Draco stood in his towel as Hermione pulled on her blouse.
"I don't know when we'll see each other after this," Hermione said, zipping up her jumper. "I shouldn't have even come here. I put you in harm's way by letting you see me."
She got down on all fours and checked under the bed.
"Really, Hermione. I'm glad you asked me to come. I missed you. So much." Draco tried to say something else – anything else – but the words weren't forming properly on his tongue.
Hermione stood back up and smiled at him, walking over. He was still practically naked and dripping all over the carpet.
"I missed you too. And I'm going to miss you. You helped me feel so safe and warm, and that's something I'm never going to forget. It was just what I needed. I hope it was what you needed, too."
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
"Really, Draco. I don't know what I would do without you. You mean so much to me."
"And you… you mean so much to me. I lov–"
"Merlin, I really need to go. Harry's going to be panicked." Hermione checked her watch and squeaked. "You can get dressed and apparate back to the Burrow after I leave."
Hermione picked up her wand and drew a breath to trigger her apparition.
"Wait, Hermione!" It seemed he had found his voice.
She turned to face him, an expectant look on her face. He wanted to ask her not to leave. To stay here with him in this little inn just a little longer. He wanted to tell her that he loved her.
But no. Long, drawn-out goodbyes were far more difficult than swallowing a potion in a single gulp. He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what was going to come out.
"Be careful," he managed weakly.
"You too, Draco," she replied, a sad smile dancing on her lips.
And with a wave of her wand and a crack, she was gone.
Draco stood alone in their hotel room, a small puddle at his feet and the faint smell of sex lingering in the air. The only evidence of their encounter. A numbness was slowly filling the space in his chest that had just been full with emotion. If he was so numb, then why did it hurt so much?
With lead arms and legs, Draco redressed. He double-checked that his pebble was still in his pocket before grabbing his own wand.
Destination. Determination. Deliberation.
The little room at the inn disappeared and Draco found himself standing just beyond the Weasley's orchard once more. The sun had set long ago, and he could see the lights of the Burrow blazing in the distance. As he traipsed through the orchard and the garden, he wondered if he could just slink upstairs unnoticed. The last thing he wanted to do was speak to anyone.
Draco turned the knob to the kitchen door and opened it to find Molly Weasley sitting at the table tracing the rim of a tea cup with her thumb. She jumped up at the sound of the door opening and stared for a moment before drawing her wand.
"Who were you disguised as at the wedding?"
"A curly, redheaded Weasley cousin. Sam Weasley. Hair was taken from a muggle in town." He gave his answers half-heartedly, leaning against the doorframe. He was so tired. All he wanted was to go upstairs and sleep.
"Very well." Mrs. Weasley smiled briefly. "You must be hungry. Let's get something for you to eat."
She gestured to the chair next to hers as she bustled into the kitchen to fix a plate. Draco collapsed into the chair, leaning onto the table with his elbow. Why had Hermione left in such a hurry? Sure, she had to get back to Potter and Weasley, but couldn't she have at least lingered over their goodbye a little? Couldn't she have acknowledged what had been such a transcendental experience? Had she felt the warmth he had felt? Her manner had been so detached, so cool…
He loved her. He had almost told her face-to-face, but the words hadn't seemed even close to being on her tongue, and so he had swallowed them. And now he wasn't sure when he would see her again. If he would see her. Terrible thoughts began to flood his mind as he sat at that kitchen table. Thoughts of her lifeless body, of existing in a world without her eyes, her hair, her lovely scent…
Draco felt the familiar tightening of his jaw that only came when he held back his tears.
Oh gods, why hadn't he told her he loved her? Would that have made a difference?
Before he could stop himself, he choked out a sob.
"…and I was worried, Draco. You know you're not supposed to disappear for that long. I know you wanted to get out for a bit, but you've got to be so careful right now… Draco?"
Mrs. Weasley was at his side immediately. He made out her form through thick tears that poured down his face. He tried to gasp for breath, but it came out jagged.
"Oh, my dear," Mrs. Weasley moved her chair to be right beside his, and pulled him to her chest, embracing him with the gentleness only a mother could. Thinking of mothers only renewed his sobs. He cried so hard he thought he might fall apart. His tears soaked Mrs. Weasley's shirt as she held him close, rubbing soft circles in his back and shushing him.
After several minutes, Draco's sobs turned to hiccups and his tears slowed to a trickle. Yet even as he continued to sniffle, Mrs. Weasley didn't move an inch, continuing to hold him close in comfort.
"Draco?" she asked softly, "Do you think you can move? I think you'll be more comfortable on the sofa."
He nodded with the slightest incline of his head and Mrs. Weasley stood, hoisting him up with surprising strength. She supported him when his muscles refused to work. It seemed as though all his energy had been spent in his actions of the past couple of hours, especially in the emotional devastation that was rocking him right then.
Mrs. Weasley helped him to the sofa and sat beside him. Draco leaned into her, pulling his knees up to his chest. He closed his eyes and he allowed himself to be comforted – to let Molly Weasley use her calm, motherly presence to ease him. He felt his consciousness slowly slipping, hardly noticing that she was humming a familiar lullaby. As he drifted off, visions of the gorgeous form of Hermione danced before his closed eyes, to both his delight and his devastation. But the sweet voice of Mrs. Weasley drove all of those negative thoughts from his mind and he fell into a peaceful oblivion – if only for now.
Poor, poor Draco.
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