Author's Note: I'm sorry, guys! Meant to get this up around dinner time today and it didn't happen, but I hope you'll enjoy all the same. It's a relief to have written a chapter again where more than 1 day passes.

Chapter 30: Secrecy

Draco woke up stiff and aching. His neck was sore. He tried to roll it and remember why he'd slept sitting up, but the answer was there in his lap. Hermione was lying on the couch, her legs curled up and her head on his lap. She must have slid down from his chest in the night.

He reached a hand down and carefully combed his fingers through her hair. Daylight was starting to stream in through the window. He wondered what time it was. He would probably have to leave soon and get ready for his double shift, but it seemed like a tragedy to get up now.

Hermione stirred a little, making a soft sound. Encouraged, he continued combing his fingers through her hair. Salazar, she was something. She'd come so far in the last few months after everything life had thrown at her. The end of the war. Finding out she couldn't get her parents back. Losing the Weasel. Putting up with him as he fumbled his way through the Muggle world. All he wanted to do now was to stay near her, and do what he could to make life easier for her if he could. When had that happened? He couldn't pinpoint it. He knew early on he'd only wanted to repay her kindnesses to him…to make sure he wasn't in her debt. That scale would never be blanked and he knew it. But he wanted to make things better for her for her own sake. It was a new feeling for him in life.

She stirred again and her eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," he said quietly.

Hermione sat up rather quickly, dislodging Draco's hand from her hair unintentionally and looking around. She attempted to straighten her sleep rumpled sweater. "I'm sorry. Morning." She raised her arms, stretching a bit. She hadn't intended to spend all night on the couch.

"That's okay. Sleep well?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes." She was sitting up properly now, and next to him. "I suppose I was more tired than I thought last night."

Draco nodded in agreement. They'd spent quite a long time walking around yesterday. His body ached. "Good morning kiss?" he asked hopefully.

"I have morning breath," she warned, laughing.

"So?"

"You have morning breath," she added.

He put a hand over his mouth to check. "It's not that bad, is it?"

Hermione kissed his cheek. "How about coffee first?" she asked, picking up their mostly full wine glasses from the night before.

"What time is it?"

"Just after eight."

"I have a little time then. I have to be in at the restaurant by ten."

Hermione made coffee and the pair of them sat down at the table, wondering what came next. They sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes. Athena was on her perch, sleeping under her wing.

"I had a really nice time yesterday," she said at last.

"So did I."

She raised an eyebrow. "Even having to tramp through a library with me?"

"Even then," he said, reaching out and taking her hand.

"You really want to do it again?" she asked.

"Really. Do you?" he responded. Maybe Hermione was having second thoughts about it all. Taking up with an ex-Death Eater who ought to be in Azkaban couldn't be good for her image once the wizarding world found out. That Skeeter woman had seemed for years as though she'd been out to get her.

"I do." She took another sip of her coffee and walked around the table. She leaned down and whispered, "Pardon my morning breath," and kissed him square on the mouth. Draco's mouth opened in pleased surprise and she took full advantage of it. Knowing his hair was already a lost cause, she let herself run her fingers through it, grasping at the hair at the nape of his neck.

Not to be outdone, Draco's arms snaked around Hermione's waist, turning and tugging her until she was seated in his lap instead of leaning over him. "Much better," he murmured, before letting his mouth continue with the more important work of kissing her again.

Hermione could feel one arm securely around her waist, the other moving over her back. His chest warm through his sweater, and she couldn't get enough of his mouth. Head tilted slightly to keep their noses from bumping, she continued kissing him, hardly noticing if a whimper or sigh escaped her lips. Morning breath be damned. This was worth it.

With difficulty, Draco pulled his mouth away from Hermione's as she made a sound of protest. He kissed his way along her jaw, reaching up with one hand to tilt her head, exposing her neck to him as he brushed her hair away over her shoulder. Wetting his lips, he kissed a line down her neck, noting the pleased sounds she made. At the place where her neck met her shoulder, he paused, giving the spot special attention. He pulled the skin up between his lips, tasting and sucking.

Moaning softly, Hermione opened her eyes. Merlin his mouth felt delicious on her skin. She raked her fingers through his hair. She wanted to kiss him again, but it was hard to convince herself to do anything but enjoy his attentions on her. Her eyes fluttered closed again.

Draco carefully worked his way back up her neck, one of his hands still cradling her hips. Salazar, he was right when he spoke last night. He'd be content to never leave this chair again. His lips grasped her earlobe for a moment, before he whispered, "I really have to go." How long had they been sitting like this, wrapped in each other's arms?

Hermione reached out and turned his head towards her, kissing him again, wanting to make sure he knew exactly how much she had enjoyed that interlude. Lips, tongues, and teeth were busy for another few minutes until they broke apart, resting their foreheads against one another. "Are you sure you have to go?"

He sighed with regret. "I do. Until that old biddy at the library retires and another job opens up, I've got to work. The Ministry's living stipend doesn't exactly budget for wine and trips to Oxford." He pushed her hair back from her face with his fingers, noticing how flushed she looked. He rather imagined his own cheeks were a fair bit pinker than normal. Hermione may not be conventionally beautiful, but to him…she was stunning.

Hermione was almost surprised to realize that she was sitting on his lap. She'd been so engrossed in…well, everything. She stood up and took her mug to the coffeemaker for a refill. "I suppose I ought to work too. I've got a number of potions to brew for Belby before my lesson tomorrow. We're covering poisonous fungi, so I'm supposed to make antidotes tonight and bring them with me."

"He's not going to poison you, is he?" Draco asked.

"I have it in my apprenticeship contact that he can't poison me without my knowledge, but it wouldn't be fair to expect to never be asked to taste one of my own potions." She shrugged. "After all, you have to make sure they work. And I'm doing more research on the talking mirrors."

Draco nodded. He was trying to figure out if he had time for a shower before his shift, or if he was just going to have to wet his hair to comb it back in place.

"Are you off any nights this week?" she asked.

"Not 'til Thursday."

"Dinner here on Thursday?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Aren't I the one who's supposed to ask you out?" he asked.

"Well, I'm a modern woman, unconstricted by gender roles. I've learned to say what I want. Besides, we wouldn't be going out. We'd be staying in."

"Thursday it is," he agreed. He kissed her once more on the lips chastely and unfortunately headed off to get ready for work.

Over the next couple of weeks, January inched its way closer to February. Draco and Hermione didn't see as much of one another as they'd have liked. With the library in the morning and working at the restaurant in the evenings, Draco was out of his flat for a good portion of the day. Hermione's apprenticeship and work at the joke shop kept her busy most of the day as well. A week after their first date, Hermione had hoped to do a second outing with Draco—maybe take him bowling—but Belby wrangled her in for gathering exotic potions ingredients.

Still, they managed to get together for dinner on Draco's nights off. Dinner together with the two of them dating was much like it had been before they started dating—one or the other of them cooked (or they went out), they talked for hours. The only difference was that now, the evening usually ended (or occasionally started) with some breathtaking kissing. Hermione had never really understood before how couples when she was at Hogwarts could just spend hours kissing one another in the common room. She rather started to understand it now.

Draco was growing increasingly aggravated at the library. Theresa had said that volunteering would be a good way to get his foot in the door when the job became available, but more than a month later, there was still no job listing posted. He'd like to quit volunteering, but…there wasn't exactly much else to fill the hours while Hermione was at work.

He seethed about it quietly, doing his best to be useful and learn what he could. He knew that no matter how much good will his volunteering might garner him, there was still a lot he didn't know about how the Muggle world operated, and he was worried it would tell against him.

Finally, the last week of January, Mrs. Smith called the staff and volunteers together. "As some of you may be aware, I have worked in this library for forty-five years. I hate to leave it while I can still walk across it, and carry a book to a shelf, but the time has come. The computer age is not my age, and it's time for others to carry the torch. I'd like to announce, that Theresa Briggs will be taking over as chief librarian."

"Thank you, Edith," Theresa said. "We've got a little something for you here. We're sorry to see you go, but hopefully, I'll do you proud." She eased a book cart forward and revealed a sheet cake on it. "You will be missed."

Draco did his best not to cheer and to look politely sad to see the old lady done with her time at the library. He was a little aggravated to find she'd be staying on another week to make sure that that Theresa could run the place properly. And then Theresa would be looking for a replacement for herself. It was a start.

The joke shop wasn't too busy that evening, and Hermione was experimenting with some of the mirror spells they wanted to try. They'd agreed that the best course of action would be to try each of the elements separately on a piece of glass and then try to combine them later Today she was working on visuals. "George. I want to see George Weasley," she said, tapping the glass.

"Well, I can see you," George said, looking at his own. "Can you see me?" He stuck out his tongue and made a face. He was only sitting a few few feet from her. Range was another thing they'd have to work on once they'd gotten the spells right.

"No, just my own reflection," Hermione said.

"Speaking of your reflection…what's that there on your neck?" he asked. There was an impish grin on his face.

Hermione tilted her mirror for a better view of herself. "What? Oh." She felt herself blush. Draco had left a mark on her neck.

George laughed. "Who's the lucky guy?" He waited for her to answer and then shook his head, answering his own question. "I don't have to guess. I could see it all over your faces at Christmas."

She raised her head and was about to deny it, and the words died on her lips. Why deny it? She had wondered if he'd deny their relationship or leave her once it came time to it coming out in the wizarding world. Well, it had come out here first. And it was his own fault for leaving a mark on her neck—no matter how good that had felt. She tried to find a little dignity. "Yes. Draco and I are seeing one another."

The redhead snorted. "You don't get a mark like that on your neck from looking too hard at someone."

She rolled her eyes. "If you'd like me to be more specific Draco and I cook each other dinner and kiss each other senseless. It didn't think you'd care for the details."

George put his hands up in surrender. "I'm not Mum, or Ron. I'm not here to offer any lectures. Just to poke a little fun at you."

"Gee, that's much better," she responded dryly. Truly, it was better. The last thing she wanted right now was any sort of lecture. She found it unlikely that George would say anything to anyone else, but but decided that she needed to let Draco know the cat was out of the bag the next time she saw him.

Wednesday night, Draco was off, and he and Hermione had dinner planned at her flat. Even with his living room and kitchen painted, her flat still looked and felt more homey than his. She was cooking and he'd promised to bring dessert.

Draco knocked n her door when she hadn't been home for more than a handful of minutes. She laughed, opening it. "I just got in. I haven't even put anything on to cook yet." She was still in her work robes.

"That's okay. We could eat pie for dinner," he said, raising the paper bag he'd brought.

"No, but you can start cooking while I change. I still smell like ground up beetle wings and gun powder. And even if you're about to say that doesn't bother you, it is most certainly bothering me." She left him staring after her as she disappeared into her bedroom.

He sighed and began to rummage through the refrigerator to see what he could cook. By the time he had something ready, Hermione had both changed and showered. She'd abandoned her work robes for jeans and a t-shirt, and came barefoot back to the kitchen. "Is dinner ready?"

"Well, it might have been if I'd had any help," he drawled, looking up at her as if he expected sympathy.

She offered none, but went on to poor herself a drink. "I suppose I can wait a few more minutes."

It wasn't long before dinner was ready (with Hermione's assistance) and they seated themselves at the table to catch up on their weeks. Draco told Hermione about his news from the library and that it looked as though the position he wanted would finally be opening up. Hermione told him about the noxious brews she'd made that day. As she talked, she pushed her hair behind her shoulder, seeing if he noticed the mark he'd left on her neck.

After the conversation had gone on for a little while, she decided he probably wasn't going to notice it. "Well, George is more observant than you are, I guess." He looked at her innocently and she knew that he'd only been pretending not to notice it, and waiting for her to say something first. She shook her head. "Well, we've been found out, and it's all your fault," she told him.

Draco reached across the table and carefully caressed her neck, as though he could gently rub the mark away. His fingers felt nice and Hermione tilted her head to the side for a moment before giving him a stern look again. Draco sighed and dropped his hand. "How did he take it?"

"He didn't seem surprised or judgmental. It was really the best reaction we could have hoped for. I don't think he'd intentionally go saying anything to anyone, but…" She shrugged. "It's out there now, and if there was anyone you didn't want to know about us, like your mother, or…anyone, now might be a good time to reevaluate that and what we're doing." She was sitting up quite straight, and looking at him rather seriously. It was one thing to have escalated things amongst themselves from a comfortable friendship the past few months to a slightly more intimate relationship the last few weeks, but it was another to bring it to the light of day. They'd both been doing rather their best to hide from the wizarding world the last six months—not that Draco had had much choice in the matter.

He looked at her with a frown, trying to parse her words and see what she was getting at. "You think I'm ashamed for my mother to know I'm seeing you? It's frankly none of her business."

She arched an eyebrow.

He looked a little disgruntled. "Hermione. Hermione, I have thought about what my mother would say when she finds out we're seeing one another. Unless you're planning to break up with me tonight, she will find out at some point. I came to the conclusion that I didn't care a hippogriff's tail feather what she thought about it. I came to that conclusion before I even asked you out. Everybody else…" He raked his fingers through his hair. "I'm not worried about what they'll say about me. Whatever it is…I probably deserve it after everything I've done the last few years." He shuddered. Some memories would never fade. "But you don't deserve the things they'd say. I almost didn't ask you out for that reason. I thought you might want to be able to just forget about me after my sentence was up. I wouldn't blame you." He sighed. "The Weaselette has probably already guessed, or will be guessing soon, by the way. She saw my New Year's resolution sheet. Asking you out was the first thing on the list." Before Draco realized what was happening, Hermione had dropped her fork and wrapped her arms around him. He spoke into her hair, thought it was difficult to get the words out through the crushing pressure on his chest. "Write to my mother tonight and tell her if you want. Write the the Weasleys. If you're willing, tell whoever you want."

It wasn't a spur of the moment decision. Draco had thought about this carefully over the last few weeks, and put it together with thoughts that had been hounding him from even longer. Early on in his sentence, he'd consoled himself with the fact that it was all just temporary, and that everything would go back to the way it had been once he had his magic back, but frankly, that wasn't true. He could admit now that it wasn't the slightest bit true. While he'd raged at the people who didn't reach out to him during his time of trouble, he rather doubted he wanted anything to do with them when he rejoined the magic world. And while he had pined after his Manor when he first found himself shut away in his dreary one bedroom flat, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to reconcile the nightmare the Manor had become with the childhood of comfort he'd once had there. And more than anything else, things wouldn't go back to being the same in August because quite frankly, he wasn't the same person anymore.

He was glad that he didn't have to try to find the words to explain it all. Hermione just held him, her chest pressed to his.

He stroked her hair. "Tell Potter. Tell anyone you please. I'm sorry if you weren't ready for us to come out yet—"

"I'm not sure if I was this afternoon or not. But tonight, I am," she said. She kissed him soundly on the lips. Six months was a long time. Maybe things would work. Maybe they wouldn't. But she felt happier this evening than she'd felt in a ages They abandoned what was left of their dinner and spent a long time on the couch, just holding one another and kissing each other.

Author's Note: I have a lot of headcanon that explains their level of intimacy in this story. I wasn't sure an explanation quite fit in in the main body of the story—I'd like to think my thoughts are supported by the canon, but if you're curious about it, let me know in your review and I'll give you a full explanation on their emotional intimacy and what I perceive their physical intimacy and previous experience to be. Merlin that author's note got long. Sorry?