"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." – Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Molly Weasley bustled about the Burrow as though it was any other day, and to her it was. She hummed as she set the dishes to wash and the brooms to sweep. She tied a dingy cream apron around her plenteous waist and smiled.
Her reddish hair might have significant amounts of grey. She might have been forced to bury one of her sons. She might have nearly been killed in the midst of the Final Battle, but still, she persisted. She wasn't the sort of woman to allow grief and fear to drag her down into the doldrums of despair.
Molly plucked a rickety wicker basket from the corner and placed it on her old, yet loved table. Her feet felt light as she packed up a few sandwiches for George. She knew he hadn't been eating well and Molly knew nothing perked him up better than a good home cooked meal.
"Mum?!"
Molly shook her head with a joyous smile and pretended her youngest son's shouts didn't make her cringe. She was determined to remain happy and not even Ron could ruin it. She set her shoulders back and packed George a few apple tartlets as she waited for Ron's lumbering steps to clod through her clean kitchen.
"There you are! Didn't you hear me shouting for you?" Ron snatched a rosy red apple from the wire basket hanging over his mother's head and took a large bite. "Where's dad?"
"Ronald, I've asked you numerous times to stop slamming doors and speaking with your mouth full. I suppose I'm wasting my breath, but what sort of mother would I be if I didn't try?" Molly's eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled and finished packing George's basket.
"Sorry, mum. Where is everyone? I expected Malfoy to be complaining about subpar accommodations and Hermione chattering endlessly about something boring, but it's incredibly quiet." Ron's brow furrowed as he tilted his head and waited for the welcoming sounds of his childhood home.
Arthur ambled down the steps with his faded red hair mussed and his robe askew. His satisfied smile made Ron's breakfast feel like a boulder resided in his stomach. He swallowed with difficulty and turned to face his mother who was back to humming.
"Lovely day, isn't it Ronald?" Arthur ruffled his son's hair and stepped toward Molly to kiss her cheek.
"Oh gods, you…you…I'm going to be sick." Ron hastily drank his tepid tea and choked on the remains of a piece of bacon he had snatched from the heaped plate on the table.
"Don't be ridiculous. There is nothing wrong with your parents having a healthy se-"
"Don't say it!" Ron leapt from his chair and winced as it toppled over and clattered. "Where are Malfoy and Hermione? Please tell me you didn't…do what you did while they were here?"
Molly snapped her tea towel and Ron winced away from the sting. He quickly righted the chair and perched on the edge warily. He couldn't look at his parents without feeling slightly nauseous.
"They aren't here. Why would they be here? Hermione and Draco seemed perfectly content in her flat last evening after that unfortunate episode of his. I do hope he's faring better this morning. I sent George to give them some Potion for Dreamless Sleep with strict orders for them to head straight to bed. I expect Hermione will send an owl later." Molly busied herself with fixing Arthur a platter of breakfast delicacies and lingered as she kissed his cheek.
"You sent George? Why would you do that?" Ron's blue eyes bulged but it didn't stop him from shoving a sausage between his lips. "Their own beds, right mum?"
"Of course," Molly tittered and offered a small half shrug, "As for George, why wouldn't I? He was here when the owl arrived and your father and I were-"
"Mum, please stop talking." Ron groaned and his parents indulged his theatrics. "I have to go."
"I wouldn't suggest visiting Hermione without warning her first. From what George told us, they were quite…comfortable with each other." Molly giggled and blushed which only made Ron's breakfast determined to make a reappearance.
"He looks ill, love." Arthur perused the Daily Prophet and sipped his tea with amusement.
"Well, that's just silly. He should be pleased. Why it was just the other day he was telling me how perfect they are for each other." Molly finally sat beside her husband and buttered a thick slice of fresh bread with a sigh.
Ron shook his head. His mind was filled with images and now the images swirled together. He lurched to his feet and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He moaned as his imagination toyed with him.
"Tell me you gave George one of your Potions." Ron was not above pleading but the confused frown marring his mother's smile made his stomach twist.
"I hadn't any. George said not to worry and he'd take care of it. I don't understand all the fuss. It's just a bit of Potion. Draco really should keep a supply on hand, especially if he's intending to court that Greengrass girl," Molly huffed and her distaste for the pretty blonde witch was obvious.
"He's not going to court her! Don't say things like that. I've got a plan. I just don't need bloody George interfering. His antics will ruin everything!" Ron shoved his wand into his back pocket and kissed his mother's cheek. "I've got to go."
Molly and Arthur watched their youngest son storm from the family home and returned their attention to their breakfast. Arthur grunted as he read about the latest Wizarding attacks in Muggle London, while Molly mentally planned dinner. They were used to the hustle and bustle of the Burrow but found quite a bit of enjoyment in the silences.
"Did you understand anything our son was rambling about?" Molly wiped her hands on her apron and looked to her husband.
"Not a word, love. But then it is Ronald. Come on then, set the kitchen to clean itself. I'm not finished with you yet." Arthur playfully swatted his wife's bottom and made his way to their bedroom with a promise in his eyes.
Draco Malfoy was sweltering. He cracked his eyes and moaned quietly as the morning sunlight stabbed his eyelids. He felt as though he was suffocating and it took him a moment to realise there was some sort of knitted concoction over his head. He squeezed his eyes shut against the soft fabric and sighed.
The warm pillow beneath his head shifted and he inhaled deeply. He shoved his hand beneath the pillow to draw it closer and gasped in surprise. It wasn't a pillow at all, it was skin. Gooseflesh freckled skin and from the feel of it, a thigh no less.
Draco pushed the afghan off his face and glanced down. He was sufficiently wedged between lightly tanned thighs and his hand was grasping a delectable arse cheek. The cotton shorts covering the intimate bits was soft, to say the least, and it was then that the memories of the previous evening revisited him.
Things seemed to get a bit fuzzy once he recalled being brought to Hermione's quaint flat. It was more feelings and sensations than actual conversation. He recalled soft, soothing whispers and collapsing on a comfortable settee.
There were also vague recollections of a potion being pressed to his lips and a warm hand against his cheek. Draco fervently hoped Astoria hadn't forced her way into the Burrow and removed him. He was displeased at the notion that it was her thighs he was nestled between until the body beneath him shifted and sighed.
"It's too early." A decidedly feminine voice moaned.
A hand stretched toward his face and grasped the afghan. Draco frowned when his head was once more covered in granny squares laden with flowers. However, the insistent hand also shoved his head against a slightly exposed abdomen as her knee bent and thrust him impossibly closer to the floral knickers peeking through the hem of indecency short nightwear.
Draco froze when her fingers threaded through his blond hair and drew him closer. He waited until her breaths had deepened once more before he exhaled. He wasn't uncomfortable and his thought was to simply close his eyes and go back to sleep. His grey eyes drowsily closed, but then she shifted and his nose grazed her navel.
He was curious now and resisting temptation had never been his strong suit. The familiar sighs and muted words alerted him to the fact he was reclined upon Hermione Granger. It was quite a compromising position, which didn't bother him.
Draco licked his lips and swallowed. The aftertaste of the Dreamless Sleep Potion was different and he nearly chuckled against the enticing skin, but he didn't wish to ruin the moment. If he had had complete control of his facilities, he never would have willingly accepted a Potion from bloody George Weasley. It seemed Granger was still entirely too trusting, even after all these years.
He knew he should arise and perhaps set the kettle to boil. He knew she'd eventually awaken and be utterly and completely embarrassed by their compromising position. He also knew she'd flush and avoid him for days on end and if she was going to do that regardless, he might as well toy with her for a bit.
Draco assumed Hermione would properly awaken the moment his fingertips scraped across her inner thigh, but he was wrong. She sighed and stretched with a content smile upon her lips, but he didn't see such things as he was focused on the freckle peeking from the edge of her knickers. His conscience was wreaking havoc with his thought processes and he nearly removed himself from the situation…nearly.
"Granger," Draco licked his lips, which was a mistake as it only caused his tongue to drag along the enticingly warm thigh.
Hermione's brow creased with the beginnings of a frown as she heard her name being called. It sounded so very far away and she wasn't ready to face the day. She was warm and content for the first time in ages and she wasn't going to allow anything to ruin it.
"Fuck Granger, please wake up." He blinked and nearly shuddered as he slowly withdrew his hand from beneath her arse.
"Malfoy?" Hermione groaned and tossed her arm across her eyes. "Why are you here?"
"I don't know. I assume you brought me here after that disastrous tea." Draco rubbed his cheek on the soft cotton of her shorts and smirked as her breath hitched.
"Why are you down there?" Hermione squeaked.
"I fucking woke up here," Draco growled. "I tried to get up, you shoved my head down and told me it was too early."
Hermione's hands flew to the settee and she attempted to sit up, but that seemed to make everything worse. The weight of his body against her legs stunted her movements. She gasped when his hand latched onto her thigh.
"You've got to move. I've got to move." Her chest was covered in a light sheen of sweat and a dark blush, but Draco's attentions were focused on her knickers.
"I don't think I want to move now," Draco breathed.
"Well, if you just let my leg go I can shimmy out and," Hermione inadvertently bucked her hips and Draco released a long groan. "Oh my gods, you can't do that, not there."
Draco's nose brushed against the tiniest scrap of cotton and it was torture. His eyes were locked onto the space between Granger's shorts and knickers. He wanted to stroke it. Hell, he wanted to taste it. Instead, he rested his head on her left thigh and pushed her right leg until it fell completely open.
"Granger, why have we never shagged?" Draco squeezed her thigh and his thumb was precariously close to the lace edge of her knickers.
"Stop being ridiculous and sit up. We're partners. You've never seen me that way and I don't expect you to." Hermione sunk her teeth into the corner of her lips and closed her eyes as her body betrayed her.
"Oh, I've seen you that way." Draco's whisper was intoxicating and Hermione barely flinched when she felt his finger smooth the fabric of her knickers.
She knew she should probably be shouting at him. She definitely knew she should leap from the sofa and lock herself in the washroom. She knew she should do something, but she didn't.
She felt his warm breath against her skin and her knickers dampened. He tugged on the apex of her shorts and she held her breath. She whimpered as he pressed into her knickers with small tentative circles.
Hermione laid completely still. Her skin was on fire and she was so aroused it was nearly embarrassing. She felt him adjust and suddenly there was a warm hand beneath her shirt and grasping her breast. She flinched in surprise when he chuckled at her hardened nipples.
"Your knickers are soaked through, Granger." The vibration of his voice caused her to moan as he tweaked what he was certain was a dusky peak.
Nonsensical noises escaped her parted lips the moment Draco lifted her sodden knickers from her skin. The gentleness of his touch was maddeningly slow yet it drew her excruciatingly close to the precipice. Every stroke, every touch set her on fire. Her legs shook and droplets of sweat dripped down the back of her neck, but Hermione didn't care.
Draco focused on delicate touches and slid up Hermione's prone body. Her breasts were completely exposed and glorious. Her hips began to move and just as his lips lowered to suckle at her breasts, she fluttered around the fingers he had slipped inside. He stroked harder and faster until the end upsurged into another beginning.
Hermione dug her fingers into his hair and yanked quite hard. Draco shrugged and removed his hand only to replace it with his covered bulge. He removed his lips from her breast with a pop and placed his forehead against hers. They simply gazed at each other in silence until Draco tugged her shorts down her legs.
"Malfoy, I don't know if we-" Hermione bit her lip and it was obvious she was torn.
Draco sat back and tossed her knickers and shorts to the floor. He quickly shimmied out of his boxers with a wink. He managed to control the teasing smirk when he watched her eyes widen, but just barely. He covered her body with his own and revelled in the sigh of longing she released.
"Why? Why does this keep happening to me?" Ron Weasley burst through the front door of Hermione's flat and immediately covered his eyes. "It wasn't bad enough I nearly caught my parents. My mum was humming and dad was half-dressed for Godric's sake. No, it seems that wasn't enough punishment for Ronald Weasley today. Now I see my best mate between the thighs of my other mate and they're starkers. They're completely starkers! I'm going to kill George. This wasn't supposed to happen at all! Would you get off her? I've got the antidote. You'll feel right as rain in no time, I swear it."
Draco closed his eyes and imagined his hands wrapped around Weasley's throat. It didn't stop the throbbing of his cock, but it made him feel better. At least, it made him feel better until Granger began to cry.
"Shit," Draco swore, "Granger, don't cry. Weasley, get the fuck out until we're presentable." He waited until the door slammed before returning his attention to Hermione.
"It's not real," She sniffled. "It wasn't real and I-"
Draco patiently waited for her to continue, despite the fact they were wedged together absolutely nude. He remembered the strange aftertaste of the Potion he had been given but had chalked it up to his mental state. The overwhelming lust had dissipated the moment he awoke Hermione, but he didn't know how to tell her that. He didn't know if he should tell her that and decided against it after the onset of fresh tears.
"You what, Granger?" He attempted to keep his cool façade firmly in place, yet it faltered.
"It doesn't matter. We should dress, Ron is waiting for us." Hermione refused to look at him and he didn't much like that.
"So does that mean you don't want me to do this then?" Draco squeezed her breasts together and teased each peak quickly.
He flexed his hips with a smirk painted on his lips as Hermione realised their position. He dared her to refuse him as his length brushed against her wet folds. It would have been so easy to slip inside her and fuck her into oblivion, but he didn't.
Draco climbed off the settee without regard for his nudity. He tossed the afghan over her nudity and picked his clothes up from the floor. His cock slapped against his stomach and it ached with frustration. The old Draco would have immediately Floo'd to Astoria, bent her over, and shagged her until neither could stand. He cursed the new Draco and slipped on his boxers as Hermione scurried from the sitting room.
"Tell me you're decent. I could go the rest of my life without seeing your pasty white arse again." Ron stepped back into Hermione's flat with a hand firmly latched over his eyes.
Draco grunted and it was more than Ron expected. He carefully peeled his palm from his eyes and sighed with relief. Draco was angrily shoving his arms into his button up and Hermione was nowhere in sight.
"I can't be here," Draco muttered.
"Eh, Hermione won't emerge from her bedchamber for hours. She'll spend forever thinking about the implications of her actions, then she'll soak in a bath and think some more. We could sit in the garden and eat breakfast pastries." Ron shrugged and Draco didn't feel like arguing with him.
"Why are you here?" Draco began as he slathered a croissant in freshly churned butter ala Molly.
"I brought the antidote," Ron slammed the tiny phial onto the bistro table and gestured wildly for Draco to consume it.
"I don't need it. The bloody potion wore off er-" Draco paused as he realised he had revealed more than he should have.
Ron leant back in the wrought iron chair and glowered at his mate. It didn't escape his attention that Draco's cheeks were slightly pink. He had numerous suspicions and it seemed now was the time to discover the truth.
"Malfoy, do you fancy my girl?" Ron braced his elbows on the table and stroked his chin.
"She's not your girl. I was fairly certain she had made that abundantly clear just before she was transferred to my department," Draco happily poured a liberal amount of milk into his coffee and popped a piece of croissant into his mouth. "Oh come off it, Weasley. We work together. We argue more often than not. You and she weren't terribly well suited, but neither are she and I. She's impossible."
"Yeah, don't think I didn't notice," Ron rolled his eyes. "You didn't answer the question at all."
Draco rubbed the back of his neck and Ron nodded knowingly. The tension between them was obvious to everyone but them and perhaps Harry. Ron knew Harry would be an issue, yet there were bigger problems than Harry's imagined affections.
Ron was nearly positive their constant banter was a precursor to foreplay and based on what he'd seen their barriers were slowly dissipating. Of course, they would pretend nothing had happened and blame their actions on George's stupid potion. It was really frustrating to be mates with two people who were as stubborn as they were brilliant. He decided it was time to test the waters with a few underhanded Slytherin measures.
"What'd the one-eared bastard lace the Potion with anyway? It wasn't Lust, otherwise…well, I'm sure you would have walked in on much more than my delectable arse," Draco winked and sipped his coffee.
"Inhibition," Hermione interjected angrily.
She tied her frumpy dressing gown tightly at her waist with narrowed, angry eyes. She marched toward the bistro table and snatched the phial from near Draco's hand. She ignored the sting of her skin when it grazed his and quickly downed the contents.
"Apparently, we're late. Molly is demanding brunch, today of all days." Hermione tossed her hands in the air and wobbled on her feet as the Potion cleared her muddled mind. "Gods, I've never felt so humiliated. We are never to speak of this, do you understand me?" Hermione didn't wait for a response, she spun on her heel with her toffee curls bouncing and stomped back inside.
"I think it would be best if you gave Molly my regrets," Draco's eyes never wavered from the back door and Ron almost felt sorry for him.
"What is it you want, mate?" Ron knew he was absolute shite at comfort, but he had to try.
"I want," Draco quickly finished his coffee and watched the small flock of birds overhead. "I want to trace her scars with my fingers and remind her that her imperfections are the reasons why she's beautiful."
"Oh yes, but the Potion wore off, sure it did. Shut up and drink this before you embarrass us both. I'm going to leave before you regain your regular surly personality. Mum expects you, don't disappoint her." Ron shook his head and gently placed another phial on the bistro table. "Idiots, the lot of you."
Ron didn't bother to say goodbye to Hermione. He knew she was busy berating herself and he had listened to that sort of nonsense for years. It wasn't his job any longer and hopefully, it never would be again. It was all a matter of cunning. He knew the perfect wizard to give him aid and with a smile, Ron Disapparated.
Draco barely registered Ron's departure as the Potion worked its way through his system. He shivered as the gentle fog clouding his thoughts dissipated. It didn't take long for his upper lip to twitch in disgust directed toward himself.
"What the fuck have I done?" Draco's head fell into his hands.
He winced when his elbow struck the edge of the bistro table and groaned internally. Bits and pieces of the previous evening alerted him to the issue, but it was the morning's activities that caused him the most discomfort. Draco couldn't even say it was unenjoyable, it wasn't, and that was the problem.
"You're thinking about it. Stop it," Hermione flounced into the back garden with a cup of tea and a scowl on her pink lips.
Draco avoided her narrowed brown eyes and focused on the crumbs remaining on his small plate. There really wasn't anything to say. They had engaged in questionable actions and while sincerely pleasing, blurred the line between partners and friends.
Perhaps the lines had been blurred for longer than either of them realised, but to have the memories so fresh caused an awkward and tense silence between them. Frankly, Draco was having difficulty erasing the images of Hermione's breasts, but it wasn't as if he could share such lascivious thoughts with her. Hell, he'd probably never share his current thoughts with anyone as he was disgusted and quite aroused. It was entirely too conflicting for his tastes.
"I think it would be best," Draco began.
"If we never spoke of this again? Yes, I quite agree," Hermione's dark curls bounced as she stared into the distance.
"Granger," Draco purred, "I wasn't going to say that at all. In fact, I was going to suggest we alleviate the tension by finishing what we started."
There was something incredibly satisfying about the violent blush that warmed her cheeks. Draco crossed his arms with a self-satisfied smirk and watched Hermione squirm. He leant forward and tugged on one of her curls. He didn't like the way she refused to look at him.
"Malfoy, don't," Hermione's cheek inadvertently leaned into the gentle touch, but she quickly righted herself. "We're friends. At least, I like to think we're friends. You're a bit surly at times and your sense of humour is definitely something that takes some getting used to, but…" Hermione paused and Draco knew she was suffering an internal battle.
"But I shag everything with a pulse and despite the attraction and tension between us, you're stubbornly unwilling to cross the invisible line you've drawn between us," Draco waved his aristocratic hand airily and rolled his grey eyes heavenward.
"It's only proper, Malfoy. We work together and it would be completely unethical to venture into anything more than friendship. Such things have a tendency to interfere with one's ability to properly do their job as well as-"
"Come off it, Granger," Draco angrily stood and glowered down at her. "As if you'd ever let anything interfere with your ability to do your job? There's absolutely nothing wrong with releasing a bit of tension."
Hermione stood up and the small bistro table crashed on its side and sent the remaining tea service shattering around their feet. Her fists were tightly clenched, but the fire in her eyes was sincerely alluring, at least to Draco. He resisted the urge to snatch her to him and stayed his ground.
"Release some tension? Is that all it is to you?" Hermione poked his chest harshly. "It isn't and I'm worth more than being just another witch in a long line of women discarded by Draco Malfoy."
Draco flinched away from her fury momentarily as he considered her words. There was an underlying message there, he knew there was. She never said anything without careful consideration. She hadn't denied the attraction, which was something significant he supposed.
"Your worth is the issue then?" Draco taunted her and watched her eyes widen in alarm. "Interesting. I suppose if I courted you properly you wouldn't take issue with relations. Is that what I'm hearing, Granger?"
"You're being ridiculous," Hermione huffed. "Your parents have handpicked your wife and you know it just as well as anyone else. Despite the fact Astoria drives you barmy, you'll marry her. You'll do your duty and no one will think poorly of you for it. There's no need to pretend there's any other choice in the matter. I am not one of those simpering simple witches who is willing to fall at your feet with your honeyed words."
Hermione spun on her heel and managed to walk quickly toward the back door. She couldn't bear to look at him any longer. She had been humiliated and if George Weasley knew what was good for him, he would avoid her for every day he drew breath. Draco Malfoy was never an option for her and she didn't want him to be. She'd rarely entertained a thought of him as anything more than a passing fancy. The conflicting emotions that pooled in her abdomen were nothing more than the side effects of a Calming Draught laced with Inhibition. Her subconscious was a traitor and it was nothing more than that.
Hermione paused as Draco called to her and she could hear the smirk painted on his lips, though she did not turn. "That wasn't a no, Granger."