Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own Harry Potter
This is sad, but true
Thank you to my wonderful beta littlered1992, who helped me structure the mess that was the start of this chapter lol. And a huuuuge thank you and round of applause for InDreams who beta'd the final product for me at the last minute so I could get this to you guys before this weekend. Much love! xx
From Chapter 23: Hurried footsteps drew Hermione's attention to where she assumed the door stood. A crack of yellow light appeared, framing a tall shadow before the door clicked shut and everything went black again.
Hermione fumbled in her pocket for her wand. "Lumos!" she hissed, her hand shaking slightly as she held it straight out in front of her.
The tip was an inch from his chest, the light casting an eerie glow over his agitated features. His face was as white as a sheet and his hair mussed to the point of total disarray; Hermione only had a moment to think that it was completely unlike the Draco she knew to greet her in such a state, but before she could ask if he was okay, he started rambling, his eyes wide and devoid of everything but sheer terror.
"My mother," he garbled. "Granger, my mother – she's not well – not warm – please, help!"
She cut him off by running towards him, sensing in him an urgency she had only ever witnessed during the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Unwilling to accept that this situation was as dire, she simply continued to move past him in the hopes that he would follow and take her to his mother.
"Thank you," he whispered as they arrived at the door of Narcissa's chambers. "I don't know what to do." A single tear rolled down his cheek and Hermione caught the reflex to wipe it away with the tightening of her fist. Without a word, she knocked softly on the closed door before pushing against it and entering Narcissa's bedroom.
It was a large room, but sparsely furnished. A dresser stood against the wall to her right, facing a king-sized four poster bed with cream curtains, which were tied back to reveal the tiny form of Draco's mother resting in the middle of it. A chair had been dragged across the soft carpet, right up to the side of the mattress, and Hermione noted the indent on the cushion which suggested Draco had not moved from his post for days.
"She's barely breathing," he said, coming to stand behind the chair.
Hermione moved to the other side of the mattress, placing one knee upon it so that she could lean over the patient. Draco was right; her breathing was shallow and soft, as if she was hardly taking in any air at all. With a quick look of apology, Hermione climbed fully onto the bed and began to check Narcissa's vitals as best she could.
"When was the last time a Healer was here?" she finally asked, her gaze locking on to Draco's with an intensity she could not hide.
"The day after she arrived," he whispered, glancing from Hermione to his mother as if chiding the brunette witch for speaking loud enough to wake her.
Hermione exhaled forcefully through her nose. "She needs a Healer. Now."
"Is it bad?" Draco's voice was thin and strained, and Hermione had to force herself not to allow the prickling sensation behind her eyes to take hold as she registered its fragility.
"Yes." She nodded, unwilling to lie to him. "Your mother is barely breathing on her own; she's as cold as ice, and if a Healer does not see her within the next five minutes, I fear she will not make it much past then."
Draco stilled, his facial features frozen in utter shock. He remained that way for a few seconds which dragged on impossibly, until he suddenly leapt back from the bed and pointed an accusing finger at his own chest.
"This is because of me, isn't it?" he hissed. "The Ministry is punishing me – and my father —" he spat the word "— for our involvement in the War."
Hermione raised both hands in a sign of surrender. "I don't —"
"Save her!" he demanded, storming around the bed and coming to a stop less than an inch away from Hermione's face. "Granger, you have to save her, or I – I don't know what I'll do if —"
Without warning Hermione turned on the spot and Apparated away, not bothering to wait to hear Draco's threat; what mattered now was ensuring Narcissa got the medical help she needed.
"I need a Healer!" she yelled as soon as she arrived in front of the reception desk at St Mungo's. "Now!"
"What's your ailment?" the receptionist asked without looking up from her copy of Witch Weekly.
"My ailment?" Hermione scoffed. "My ailment is that the Ministry is a bunch of useless sea slugs, intent on stroking each other's egos and filling each other's wallets while an innocent woman rots in jail and then dies in her home less than a week after her release!"
As her shouts rang around the small area, the receptionist looked up, though her expression registered as more annoyed than spurred into action.
Hermione huffed as they made eye contact, unwilling to say the next part, though she knew it must be done. "My name is Hermione Granger and I demand that your two most experienced Healers follow me to Malfoy Manor right now, or I promise that this entire hospital will be dragged through a long and messy legal battle with me leading the prosecution."
The receptionist only blinked in response and Hermione wondered if she should also be championing the girl's wellbeing.
Just as she was about to unleash her full wrath, a familiar face appeared from the hallway behind the reception desk. "Hermione Granger!" Katie Bell greeted her. "What can I do for you?"
"I need your two best Healers," Hermione snapped, unwilling to engage in pleasantries. "Immediately."
Katie frowned, but nodded and disappeared, returning a minute later with two grey-haired women in lime green robes.
"What can we do for —?"
"Grab whatever you're going to need to save the life of a woman who is currently barely breathing, cold as ice, and suffering from an extended stay in Azkaban, having been subjected to little to no healthcare since her return home." The Healers stared at her for a moment before Hermione barked, "Move!" and the women hurried into action.
She was unsure whether it was because she had dropped her name, or simply the crazed look in her eye, but Hermione did not question why they had jumped to follow her instructions.
Less than three minutes since leaving the Manor, Hermione returned flanked by the Healers. Without having to say anything, the witches rushed forward and swatted Draco out of the way so that they could assess Narcissa's fragile form.
The blond circled around the four-poster slowly, watching them work but unable to see what they were doing as they sat practically on top of his mother. Hermione longed to call him over to her, where she had remained standing against the wall next to the dresser, but felt that Narcissa's life hung in the balance of her silence and so she remained mute.
Finally, after at least half an hour, one of the Healers extracted herself from the bed and turned to face Draco. "She'll be alright," she said in a kind voice. "We're going to stay with her overnight —" her gaze flickered to Hermione who nodded stiffly in response "— and you can be sure that your mother will receive around the clock care until she's up and functioning as normal."
Normal, Hermione thought cynically. What does that look like for a woman who's been cooped up in a fucking prison for over half a decade?
"Thank you," she heard Draco whisper. "I really appreciate you coming at such short notice."
He turned to look at Hermione. Whatever he saw reflecting in her expression seemed to jar something within him and he was suddenly striding towards her. He took her by the elbow without saying anything and steered her towards the door. When she protested, he insisted that his mother was in good hands, and that he really needed to talk to her.
"First of all," he said when they reached the hallway, "thank you; my mother wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for you turning up when you did." Hermione opened her mouth to argue that she almost wasn't here, and if she had arrived sooner, then perhaps Narcissa would have been in a better state now, but Draco pressed a long finger to her lips to silence her.
"Second," he continued, "I'm sorry for what you witnessed earlier today…or yesterday; I promise that I was not willingly kissing Pansy Parkinson." He screwed up his face and dropped his voice so low that Hermione had to practically press her ear to his lips in order to hear him. "She ambushed me, and I think Lucius is behind it."
As if he had summoned him by speaking his name, Lucius suddenly appeared behind Draco. Hermione indicated that Draco should turn around with a stiff nod of her head and she watched as the two Malfoy men regarded each other with cold, empty eyes.
"Draco," Lucius said. "How is she?"
"She almost died," Draco said, his tone conversational.
"What?" Lucius' expression did not change, but the over-enunciation of the 't' as it clicked against the roof of his mouth gave him away. Whether he cared about Narcissa or was hopeful for her demise, Hermione could not tell.
"If it weren't for Hermione, she would be dead. She brought the Healers; they're with Mother now."
Lucius glanced from Hermione to the open door of his wife's bedroom. For a moment, Hermione was sure he was going to sweep past them to visit Narcissa, but his eyes came to rest easily back on Hermione's face. His mouth twisted in what she assumed was meant to be a smile, but it only made him look menacing and slightly demented.
"Thank you," he hissed, the words dripping with disdain. "Miss Granger, we owe you a huge debt."
"Nonsense." Hermione waved her hand nonchalantly, though she continued to glare at Lucius. "I'd do anything for Draco and Narcissa."
The implication hung like old wet washing in between a market alleyway, and Lucius wrinkled his nose as if he could smell it. He did not respond, however, instead turning on his heel and marching quickly away from them and his ailing wife.
Hermione met Draco's gaze and arched an eyebrow in a questioning gesture, but the blond only shook his head, his expression weary. His hands moved lazily to her upper arms, gently easing around her flesh and tugging her towards him.
Buried in his chest, Hermione inhaled his scent and allowed herself just a moment of relaxation; questions regarding his father and Pansy effing Parkinson could wait. For now, she would enjoy the feeling of Draco's arms as they held her firmly to him, her ear resting against his steady heartbeat.
Draco had barely had time to scratch himself since his parents had returned home. He felt as though the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders since, his nerves worn thin as he juggled Lucius' intent to force him into a life he didn't want, Narcissa's illness, and his very new relationship with Hermione.
In the cold hours of the morning, as he sat by his mother's bedside, he reflected on how far they had come in such a short amount of time; he was able to recall sheer frustration with the witch when his memory wandered to their first few meetings, but the anger he had harboured had dissipated to the point of obscurity.
When she had walked in on him and Pansy, he had thought for sure that things would be over before they could properly start between them. His parents were home, he was no longer under house arrest, and Hermione was the Head Case Manager in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; her work was done as far as the Malfoy's were concerned, and he had honestly not expected her to respond to his written attempt at grovelling.
His hand clenched in the bedsheets to his left; his mother was still sleeping, the soft rise and fall of her chest now deep and full, a vast difference from the shallow gasps she had been managing before Hermione had dragged in the Healers three days ago.
Thank Merlin for Granger, he thought. If she hadn't responded…
His eyes glanced over the small lumpy figure beneath the sheets. Draco didn't think he would ever get used to seeing Narcissa like this; nothing could prepare you for seeing your mother in such a position. She had been through Hell and back over the last five years, and it showed. Her face was more lined than he remembered, her eyes and hair - what was left of it - much duller. Her lips were thinner and held less colour than her pale cheeks.
"Draco?" Her voice was barely there, a thin wisp that burst into the air and then faded just as quickly as it appeared.
"Mother?" His heart leapt into his throat and began to beat at an incredible rate. Standing, he placed his right knee on the mattress and leaned over to get a better look at her face; he didn't think he was dreaming, but he had to be sure, had to see her lips move before he dared let himself believe this was happening.
"Draco?" she repeated. Her hand reached for him, towards his face. He clutched it in both of his and brought it to rest against his cheek. Her skin was cool, but definitely warmer than when she had first arrived home.
Tears sprung to the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back furiously, relief flooding his veins and making him feel dizzy.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
Silence.
"Mother?" He frowned, lowering his face and angling it to the left slightly so as to allow the moonlight to give him a better view of Narcissa.
Her eyes were closed; she had fallen back to sleep.
He sighed as he guided her hand gently back to the mattress before repositioning himself in the chair. He produced his wand, casting a silent Accio so he could write a letter to both St Mungo's and Hermione. It was three in the morning, but he would be damned if he wasn't going to inform them of the marvellous turn of events.
Sure, his mother might have only woken for less than thirty seconds, but that had to be a good sign. Right?
Hermione had responded immediately, not minding in the slightest that he had woken her at three in the morning with the news that Narcissa had woken up and spoken to him - even if the moment had been fleeting. He had also tacked on an invitation to come over and join him for dinner that evening, something Hermione was only too eager to accept after everything that had gone down between them. Going to one's boyfriend's house for dinner was a completely normal thing to do, even if that house was a manor which was also home for said boyfriend's evil father and comatose mother.
"How is she?" Hermione asked as she watched Draco place their dirty dishes in the sink and wandlessly set them to washing themselves. Dinner had been an enjoyable affair, but Hermione had avoided all talk of his parents just in case it ruined his appetite - or his mood, which seemed uncharacteristically chipper.
"She's stable, but still not awake," he answered. "The Healers are with her now."
"Good." Hermione maintained eye contact with him as he slowly made his way around the kitchen island and came to stand in front of her. He fingered a stray curl, tugging it gently and then letting it go so that it sprang back up towards her chin. "Have they said anything about when they think she will wake?"
Draco shook his head, his mouth settling into a thin line. His hand dropped from where it had fluttered around her cheek, resting instead on her hip, his fingers kneading gently. He offered no more in the way of conversation but leaned forward and captured her lips in a searing kiss.
It was chaste, at first, and then Draco began to walk her backwards until Hermione's spine connected with the wall beside the refrigerator. Forcing a knee between her thighs, Draco ran his tongue over the seam of her lips, and she granted him entrance immediately.
Warmth pooled from her chest into her abdomen as his grip tightened around her waist, simultaneously pulling him to her while his hips pressed her hard into the wall. Her breath was coming in harsh bursts through her nose, and her head spun from the lack of oxygen – not that she minded; she hadn't been touched like this in so long, and even with the small voice in the back of her head telling her that she and Draco had yet to discuss their relationship, Hermione was unwilling to distract him from his current ministrations.
Hermione whimpered into his mouth as his fingertips dipped beneath her sweater and traced patterns over the warm skin of her stomach, tingles running outwards from his touch. She fisted her hands in his shirt and bucked her hips up involuntarily. He smirked against her lips, but she swallowed the rising feeling of chagrin as he responded with a roll of his own hips.
"I know," he said as she moaned again, his lips moving softly against hers, "that we haven't really had the talk, but —" he nipped her lip between his teeth and tugged "— I want to feel you." He kissed her again before continuing. "I mean, I'll stop —" he kissed the side of her mouth "— if you want me to, but with all the stress lately I need —"
"Draco," she whispered, bracing her hands on his chest and pushing slightly so that she could look up into his face. "Stop talking, and just keep on doing what you were doing."
He offered her a sheepish grin, but obediently ducked his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss once more. It was more insistent this time, and less composed. Hermione could practically feel his impatience as his grip tightened further at her hips and his lips slid across hers without the finesse of before; he had finally let go, she realised. This knowledge only made her want him more, a fact that struck her as her last coherent thought. From then on it was all Draco.
His mouth left hers with a smacking sound, but he did not pause to glance at her. Instead, he moved to suck and nip at her jaw, making his way down her neck until he sucked at her pulse point, sending her back arching involuntarily away from the wall. Pleasure zinged from the point of contact, down over her chest, and straight to her core; it wasn't long before she was panting and whimpering, her hands clenched into fists in his grey cotton shirt, her eyes squeezed shut so tightly she was beginning to see stars.
His hands found the front of her jeans, and he used a wandless spell to pop open the button and loosen the zipper; there was no time for a build up, apparently, and Hermione briefly wondered if their first intimate moment was going to be a hard fuck against a wall, when he tore his teeth from her flesh and looked into her eyes, his gaze hot and full of filthy promises.
"Bedroom," he said in a gravelly tone. It sent shivers up Hermione's spine and she bit her bottom lip to keep from moaning.
She nodded her head and Draco growled, bending slightly with his arms around her middle so that he could lift her, her legs wrapping around his waist. Hermione could not remember ever being in such a position and froze at first, unsure of what to do with her hands, which were still fisted awkwardly in the front of his shirt… but then he began to move, slowly walking them towards the entrance of the kitchen and then up the stairs, and he alternated between checking that the path was clear, and peppering hot kisses to the skin that was exposed above her blouse.
By the time they had reached the first landing, Hermione's hands were threaded through his hair, holding him to her chest as he licked and sucked and nibbled. He chuckled against her flushed skin as she groaned in impatience as he once again lifted his head so that he could see where he was going; Hermione was both simultaneously embarrassed and aroused by the sound - she didn't want him to think she was so easily turned on…
Her back met the wooden doorway first as Draco pressed her against it, balancing her weight on the white frame as he fiddled with the handle. He caught Hermione just in time as the door swung inwards, and they both laughed as he crossed the threshold, stopping only when their lips met once more and their giggles quickly subsided into harsh exhales and breathy moans.
Draco kicked the door shut behind him and locked it with a wordless wave of his hand; he also cast a Silencio for good measure. Hermione did not notice him warding the room; she was too busy trying to get closer to him, if such a thing were possible. She kissed him back hungrily as his tongue entered her mouth once more; his cologne was all she could smell - sandalwood with a citrusy undertone.
He deposited her on the mattress of his grand four-poster and in the second it took Hermione to pout at the realisation that his lips had left hers, Draco had captured her protruding lower lip between his teeth and was slowly pushing her backwards until she was laying on the bed. He hovered over her as he continued to kiss her, his fingers tracing barely-there patterns on her skin until she was positively mewling into his mouth.
"Draco," she panted, breaking the kiss.
He pulled back, arm muscles taut as he gazed down at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue...but she didn't. She licked her lips and then ran her hands over his abdomen, towards the waistband of his pants, her movements somewhat tentative. He frowned and opened his mouth to ask what she was doing, but before he could articulate the question, Hermione had gripped the hem of his shirt in her hands and was tugging it back up towards his head.
He grinned at the look of concentration on her face, but obediently leaned back slightly so that she could pull the garment off of him. With surprising strength, she then balled it up and threw it over his shoulder so it hit the far wall and slid down to the floor with a soft flump!
Hermione took a moment to enjoy the pride that flared in her chest, but she was soon distracted by the chiseled chest of the man who was still hovering above her, enjoying the change in her expression. Her fingertips pressed into the soft-but-hard flesh and Hermione's mind reeled; she wasn't blind – she had always thought Draco was attractive, even with the sneer on his face all the way up until sixth year, when his sickly pallor had only dimmed his handsome features a little.
When he had been released from Azkaban, Hermione remembered thinking that he resembled a boy who was playing dress ups in his father's closet. That was not the case now, though she could not pinpoint the moment he had started to fill out or tone up. However it happened, she was grateful for the transformation as Draco growled low in his throat, obviously annoyed with her lack of action and forced his arm underneath her so that he could shuffle them both up towards the head board.
Hermione tilted her chin up, a smirk playing on her lips as she settled against silk-covered pillows in varying shades of grey. Expecting Draco to kiss her again, she licked her lips and her eyes fluttered closed, but instead of warm lips slanting over her own, Hermione was caught off guard by strong hands fluttering over her chest as Draco undid the buttons of her blouse. Her eyes flew open, meeting his heated gaze which stopped the voice in her throat as she prepared to ask him what he was doing.
It took very little time for Draco to divest her of her blouse, and then his mouth was on her chest, moving down over the mounds of her breasts. Hermione could barely think as she arched into him, silently begging him for more. Her skin was on fire and her fingernails made an audible scraping noise as she fisted her hands into the silk sheets. When his mouth closed over a nipple, the heat from his tongue seeping through the fabric of her bra, Hermione squeaked and bucked her hips upwards, earning herself a hearty chuckle from the blond above her.
Hermione threaded her fingers into the thin strands of his hair, and his mirth quickly dissipated. His movements became more frenzied as he groped at her hips and then tugged at her bra so that he could bite down on the taut flesh without a barrier.
"More," Hermione rasped.
Draco was only too happy to oblige, and set to work tugging her jeans down her legs. As she lay in just her underthings, Hermione sent her hands gliding over the smooth planes of his chest and abdomen, repaying the favour and forcing his jeans down his hips. His boxers were a deep green and she couldn't help but arch an eyebrow up at him. Draco simply shrugged and then bent over her again, moaning as their chests came into contact with each other at the same time his lips met hers.
He did not break the kiss as he hooked his fingers into the band of her knickers and dragged them slowly down her legs. Hermione arched into him as he went, begging for more, but he only smirked against her mouth. When he finally settled on top of her again, his hard length was pressing against the top of her mound, shamelessly free of its green confines.
Hermione's eyes flew open at the sudden sensation, and Draco pulled back immediately.
"What is it?" he asked with a frown. "Are you okay?"
Hermione nodded, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. "Keep going," she whispered.
He ducked his head again, albeit tentatively, his lips caressing hers in a barely-there movement. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, showing him that she wanted more. She wrapped both legs around his hips now and moaned as his cock pressed against her entrance.
He broke the kiss to trail his lips down her neck and over her sternum. Hermione panted as she realised his intention, but that wasn't what she wanted.
"Draco," she said. When his gaze met hers, she offered him a small smile. "I want to feel you."
He continued to take in her expression, searching her eyes for any doubt or concern, but he found only heady expectations. With a returning smirk, he moved to hover over her again, and bent down to press a chaste kiss to her lips as he lined himself up with her core.
He pushed in gently, at first; as the head of his cock entered her, Hermione gasped in a mixture of pleasure and shock - he wasn't exactly small and it had been a while… but then with one quick push forward he was sheathed inside of her and Hermione dug her nails into his forearms, groaning as shocks of pleasure and pain coursed through her belly.
"You okay?" he asked between clenched teeth.
Hermione looked up at him, her eyes hooded as she took in the muscle working in his jaw; it was clearly taking all of his self control not to just fuck her into the mattress. She nodded, waiting for him to move. He did so slowly, building up a rhythm until their hips were snapping together at a frenzied pace and Hermione felt as though she was approaching a monumental precipice.
Her walls fluttered around him, teasing and tensing in a way that promised release but only if she was given a really good push. Sensing this, Draco's hand snaked between their bodies and the pad of his thumb found her clit. Hermione almost came undone as soon as he began to rub the sensitive bud in quick movements, but it wasn't until he lowered his mouth to hers and claimed it in a passionate kiss that she tumbled over the edge, hot bursts of yellow light flashing as she squeezed her eyes shut and clutched the blond to her, rocking her hips without paying heed to the steady rhythm they had set.
As she came down, her moan subsiding into soft mewls, Draco left her lips and trailed kisses down her jaw so that he could whisper in her ear. "That was so fucking sexy."
With that he followed her into post-orgasmic bliss.