January 1999—
Since the second term began, every class ended with homework in the form of a detailed essay. To cope with this, Hermione found she could spread out all her books and notes across her bedroom floor and attack them in patterns. It was ordered chaos. Paper littered every square inch, except for a small path to her bed. Her organizational system was pretty elaborate, even though it looked like an explosion of small stacks.
After hours of studying one night, it was time for a much needed break. Hermione rarely gave those to herself, but after so much hard work, she figured she had earned it. Crookshanks had abandoned her ages ago and went off to curl up in an armchair downstairs rather than deal with her fussing at him whenever he stepped on a pile. She made her way down with a small handful of cat treats as a peace offering, then she sank into the fluffy couch next to his chair.
For one of the rare times in Hermione's life, her head was completely empty. She snuggled deep into the couch and watched the fire crackle in the hearth. She must have dozed off, because she woke up to movement. Crookshanks had hopped from his chair to her couch and then off across the room. He was right; it was time to head up. She sat up, stretched, and locked eyes with Malfoy. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Draco was in a tee and pajama bottoms and clearly had thought he was alone in the kitchen based on the way his eyes widened.
"How long have you been there?" They both said. Draco smirked.
"To be honest, I don't know," said Hermione. "I didn't check the time when I came down."
"Right, I'll just head back up then."
"Oh, just stop it. I don't think I can take this anymore. Can't we even have a civil conversation?"
Draco looked at her for a long while before he said, "Sure." He moved to sit down on the opposite end of her couch, facing the fire.
"How are classes?" she tried.
He shrugged noncommittally.
The silence hung heavily between them. Eventually, Draco said, "Have you been sleeping?"
"Some, yes. Have you?"
"Not really."
The silence returned.
Hermione could not tell whether the silence or the forced conversation was worse. She had spent a long time thinking through what she might say to him, and she steeled her nerves. It was now or never.
"I still don't regret it. Any of it," she said very quickly. "You may not want to tell me what I did wrong, but everything I did and felt was sincere. I just think you should… know that," she finished somewhat lamely.
Draco looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Are you saying absolutely nothing influenced your actions?"
"I—I don't know what you're asking."
"Nothing happened to make you choose what you did?"
"To sleep with you? To choose you as my first?" Hermione felt her blush creep up her neck but pressed on. This was no time for being shy. "My only influencer was you. I—You—We—" She broke off. She knew what she wanted to say, but she had no idea how to transition it to words. She was getting choked up, and a single betraying tear slipped down her cheek.
Draco started to reach for her, then snapped his hands back. She dared a look up at him. His face was contorted in pain. Her worst fears were coming true. All this time, she had been telling herself she had no clue why he was upset. She had rationalized how thin the idea of jealousy was: Harry was practically engaged to Ginny and was like her brother, Ron was nothing at all to her at that point, Ernie was a short blip of her past, and Viktor was just a friend in another country, even if he might want more. No, there was no one Draco could be jealous of. There was one obvious answer, but she avoided letting her brain go there. But, did he not look disgusted when he first saw her after the Christmas break? Was he not even now unable to touch her?
With a shaking voice, Hermione tried to ask the question that had been secretly nagging her all along. "Was it me? I'm not good enough, am I?"
Draco's head snapped to her so fast that she thought she heard his neck crack. "What?"
"It must have been awful… to be with me." And all of her strength gave way. She broke into sobs even as she hated herself for showing so much weakness in front of Draco. She thought she was past this! None of this should still be bubbling at the surface for her! She buried her head in her hands and willed him to leave her be. Let her break down like this alone.
"Just go," she choked out.
Instead, she felt him pull her into his warm arms.
"No," he whispered. "Don't think that. You were incredible. You are incredible. I never meant to make you think that about yourself."
"Well, was it about my blood then?" Hermione turned up to him just as a look of horror stole over his face.
"Oh gods, did I make you bleed?" he whispered. "Were you hurt?"
"No, no, I was fine. I mean, I was a bit sore for a while after, but I just thought that was because we… well, first time and all. I meant my blood status."
Draco started to pull away. "If you still think that," he growled at her.
"No! I don't! I mean, I didn't, but I don't know what else, and Harry said—"
"Oh yes, let's hear what Potter has to say about our love life."
This time, Hermione pulled back. "Actually, he was trying to explain to me a bit about being pure-blood."
"What in Merlin's name would he know about that?"
"Sirius told him quite a bit actually. He said that pure-bloods didn't have serious relationships until they were engaged."
"Oh. That's true."
"I didn't know that," Hermione admitted. "I had assumed you and Pansy were together."
"No. She and her family would've liked it to be different, but my parents wouldn't accept an alliance with the Parkinsons. I think what you mostly saw was me," he rubbed his face, "leading her on a bit."
"Oh. Well, Harry just said that he thinks you might have thought what happened meant something a bit more serious than me."
Draco nodded, but he sounded bitter when he spoke. "I guess he's not as much of an idiot as I thought."
"What!? Oh, Merlin. Draco, I'm so sorry. I care about you so much, but I'm not ready to be engaged."
"Engaged? What the hell?"
"But isn't that—"
"Salazar's sack, no!"
"I don't understand. Please, please, just tell me what it is."
Draco scowled and grumbled, "It's bloody Weasley."
"Ginny? What on earth does me seeing her doing that with Harry have to do with anything?"
"Not Weaselette. The feckless git you insist on calling your friend."
"Ron? RON!?" Hermione wanted to scream. "So he treats me like trash, like some twisted, backstabbing harlot, and you think I'm somehow at fault!? I can't believe this!" She jumped up and stomped to her staircase, then turned back. "All this time, all these weeks, I've been in agony over you. And for what? Because you think Ron treating me poorly has spurned me on to sleep with you!? For what, spite? If I wanted to spite Ron, I'd have paraded you around in front of him, not invited you to an empty house so we could be together, in private—on Christmas!"
Hermione whipped around and continued stomping up her stairs. She ignored Malfoy's sputtering below. She did not care if her screams of rage were waking the others. She slammed her door, ran to her bed (crumpling her notes with each step, which she would undoubtedly regret later) and flung herself down. When she did eventually fall back to sleep, she twisted and turned and visited the drawing room again.
The sound of scratching briefly woke her at some point during the night. Grabbing her wand, she flicked the door open to admit Crookshanks and fell back asleep. She did not register that the scratching continued.
Over the next three days, Hermione did not speak to Malfoy, and after one day of being rebuffed and cut off by her at every word, he made no further attempt to speak to her. Every time their eyes met, he looked away in what Hermione imagined was guilt.
Ginny noticed her mood, which had remained volatile.
"Hermione, are you sure you're all right?" Ginny asked her at dinner.
"Yes," she said briskly.
"Well, you don't look like it."
"Would you be happy, Ginny? Would hearing something like that from Harry not infuriate you? Unless I don't know you at all, I'm pretty sure you'd have hexed him into oblivion already. All in all, I'd say I'm dealing with this rather well."
"I'm not saying you should be happy, or that I would be. There's no need to bite my head off for being concerned."
Hermione sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. I just feel so angry all the time."
"Well, I suppose that's a step up from how you were before, but I really hope you can get past this soon. Not over it!" She added hastily at Hermione's expression. "I said past it."
Hermione nodded and went back to eating her food.
After dinner, she mollified Ginny with a very short apology flying practice, then she decided it was high time to clean up her room, which was still an organized explosion of books and notes. She spent an hour consolidating everything into eight neat stacks—one for each class—and sat down at her desk for the first time in days. That's when she saw it: her Twinned Quill had written out a lengthy message sometime between then and when she last abandoned it. She had been intentionally leaving the quill out and ready for a while now, in hopes of a message from Draco, but she had not even bothered to check over the past few days while she was fuming. Her eyes flew over the page.
Hermione,
I know you don't want to see me. Or hear anything I have to say. If you're reading this, just that is more than I deserve. More than I gave you. But, I can't make this mistake between us twice. I've sabotaged myself once already. I deserve nothing from you. I don't know how to grovel, so I'll try for honesty—for good or bad.
I overheard you talking with Potter that morning. He asked if Weasley sleeping around made you to do the same. I asked you something similar, and your answer was evasive. Potter's question was a lot harsher, but you didn't give him a straight answer either. As you always say, he's your best friend. He would know. I didn't stay longer to hear more. I know that I blew up. I remember being furious. I remember wanting you to feel betrayed like I did. But I didn't mean for this.
When I saw you again after the holiday, I knew I was being an arse. I was too selfish to admit it. To talk to you. Gods, I regret it. Then I overheard what Ernie said to you. (Okay, yeah, I see it now. I'm a fucking eavesdropper and should've just come to you.) He made it sound like you two had… Anyway, he was just being a misleading prat. Probably on purpose. I fell for it, so again I'm the idiot. I know you were dating him for a while, but the idea of you sharing any bit of yourself with him made me sick. That wasn't right of me.
But tonight, you accused me of a few things that are flat out wrong. I can't leave you with those impressions.
First, your blood status means nothing to me. I am in no way disgusted by any bit of you, including your giant nest of morning hair.
Hermione chuckled, despite herself. She could imagine his smirk as he was writing.
Second, I didn't think you slept with me solely to spite the Weasel, but I did think that his words and actions spurned you on. I don't know if this makes sense, but I thought that if he hadn't slept with someone else, you likewise wouldn't have slept with me. It made me feel… Merlin, I don't even know the right word. Cheap? Unimportant? Fuck, even just writing that sounds stupid.
Third, that night was perfect. You were perfect. I've never felt as happy as I did then with you in my arms. I'm a fucking imbecile to have given you up. I've thought about you every second since then. Even when I didn't want to.
I didn't mean to doubt you, but until tonight, I did. I'm sorry. I accept all of your anger.
As always, you're in the right.
Draco
Hermione sat transfixed. She read the letter again. This was not much of a resolution for her. A lot of time had passed with silence between them. But, he did hold her immediately when she shared her doubts about herself. And, he had sent Ginny to help her when she was at her lowest.
How did she feel about him now, a month later, with so much confusion between them? She closed her eyes and thought about the night they spent together. No, nothing had changed. She felt a desperate longing to be near him again. She ached to be in his arms, to touch him. She wanted nothing more than nightly talks by quill, or better yet, in person.
It was time to act.
Hermione flew from her chair, marched down her staircase, crossed the common room, and did not stop until she had climbed his Slytherin stairs and was standing outside his door. She knocked without a moment's hesitation, but there was no answer. She waited for what felt like an hour, and all the while her anxiety mounted. She knocked again.
Finally, she heard someone on the other side. The door creaked open, and Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise. He opened the door fully.
"Granger? What's wrong?"
Hermione ignored this question and flung herself into his arms. Draco said something she did not register. All she knew was that his arms had wrapped around her. She grabbed at his T-shirt and pulled his lips down to hers. He froze. She kept kissing him. Then, all at once, he moved.
Hermione was scooped up into the room. She heard the door kick shut as Draco wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed and threw her down. Then, he was on top of her, kissing her fiercely and touching every bit of her he could reach. She raked her fingers through his hair, down his back, and over his chest. She was desperate to have every inch of him that she could. Draco began unbuttoning her shirt, and she tugged at his tee, trying to pull it over his occupied arms. In seconds, they had stripped each other out of their clothes and were touching and teasing and kissing. His hand fumbled at his nightstand for his wand to cast the contraceptive charm on himself. When he finally pressed into her, they both moaned. She could already feel her walls fluttering and was pulling at him desperately when he suddenly pulled out. She cried out in protest, but she realized it was just so he could flip them around to give her control atop him. She sunk down onto him and gave herself a moment to acclimate to the new position. He was kissing and biting at her neck, and when he moved down to take a nipple into his mouth, she cried out and instinctively began rocking her hips. Soon, she figured out how to position her legs and, with Draco's support, was bouncing down onto him at her own pace. She climaxed quickly, and Draco followed with his own release soon after.
They fell back against his headboard, and he covered them with his blankets. Hermione felt safe and happy for the first time since Christmas. She drifted effortlessly to sleep.
When Hermione awoke the next morning, light was streaming into the window, and she was momentarily disoriented. Then, everything came back to her. Draco was rousing as well, and he pulled her close to him, crushing her against his chest. He was deliciously warm, and Hermione realized they were both still naked. His skin felt amazing against hers. As she pushed closer to him to connect their entire bodies, she became aware of his arousal.
Draco muttered something into her ear that might have been an apology, which she ignored. Instead, she slipped him between her legs and delighted in the moan she elicited from him. She surprised him by casting his contraceptive charm for him then pulled him on top of her. She distinctly heard him groan, "Gods, you're so wet," as he pressed into her. Their love making this time was slow and intentional, and somehow much more intense.
When they had finished, they held each other tight, and Hermione hoped it was still early enough that they had time left with each other.
"What made you change your mind?" he whispered.
"I just saw your note," she admitted. "And I missed you."
"I should tell you… about the pure-blood thing."
"Mmm," she hummed and nestled into his chest.
As she hoped, he began to elaborate. "There is an expectation for pure-bloods that you don't go all the way before you're engaged."
"Some Muggle religions encourage abstinence before marriage."
"Hmm, it's not quite like that, I don't think. It's more so you don't… There isn't really a nice way to say this. It's to discourage accidental half-blood babies."
"It's okay, I understand." Hermione was happy to have her face buried in Draco's chest so he could not see her blush. She had no idea why she should be blushing. They were both consenting adults and also had been careful to cast contraceptive charms each time.
"My parents did expect to arrange my marriage, but not anymore. Nothing's been said between us, but I think my mother knows. She's hinted at me finding someone to be happy with. She picked my father for love and just got lucky that their families agreed."
He fell silent, and she could tell he was thinking. As usual, she had about a hundred questions, but she let him continue in his own time.
"Being with you… it means that part of my life is over."
"So, it was a big decision? Bigger than usual, I mean."
"Yes."
"Was it… er… difficult?"
"No. Not once it was in front of me."
"Hmm. But you doubted my decision?"
"That was fear."
The gears in Hermione's mind started turning. She had always thought that choosing who to share her first time with would be a monumental decision. She assumed it would be somehow a defining choice in her life. She also had to admit to herself that she had thought her first time would be with Ron, and his with her. But when the time came, she reflected, choosing Draco had been the easiest and most natural thing in the world. There was no doubt that she was ready and that she felt connected to him. But, how would she react if she had family expectations to contend with too? Or, if she had Pansy or one of the other Slytherin girls insisting on being in Draco's life? For the first time, his actions began to make sense to her. And she felt confident that hers also made sense to him. Optimism bloomed in her chest that they had finally found understanding and that they clearly still had a strong connection.
Draco's alarm sounded, interrupting her thoughts, and they both groaned. Hermione dressed quickly, kissed Draco for much less time than she would have liked, and hurried down the stairs.
"Ooh, Hermione!" Padma was in the kitchenette, and her eyes were alight. "There's a story here we have to hear," she crooned.
Hermione groaned.
"What in the hell is this about?" Ernie demanded, making both her and Padma jump.
"Ernie?" Padma said.
He ignored her and was glaring daggers at Hermione. "So, it is true. And to think I believed you. Nothing's going on, you said. There's no one else, you just need time."
"No, it's not like that," Hermione protested.
"The bloody hell it isn't!"
"Please, let me explain."
"Explain!? I don't need to hear another sob story."
"Ernie!" Padma exclaimed. "What's gotten into you?"
Ernie was sputtering, and Hermione subtly drew her wand. She had had too much experience with explosive boys lately. Just then, Draco emerged from the stairs.
"Malfoy!" Ernie rounded on him. "I've got a bone to pick with you!"
Draco stilled. "Macmillan," he said slowly, and his eyes darted between hers and Padma's before returning to Ernie. "What's going on?"
"How dare you!"
Malfoy raised one eyebrow.
"How dare you lay a hand on her!"
"Excuse me!?" Hermione was surprised at the shrillness in her voice.
"What do you have over her?" Ernie went on. "What have you done to her?"
Malfoy sneered.
Ernie drew his wand, and Malfoy had his leveled in an instant. Hermione ducked as flashes of light began ricocheting around the room. She was vaguely aware of Padma yelling.
"No!" Hermione screamed and heard thuds as bodies were slammed against the wall. All went quiet.
After what could have been hours or only a few moments, Padma's voice called to her.
"Hermione," she said calmly. "Hermione, it's okay. Release your spell."
She released it, not realizing that she had cast one, and looked around. Padma was wide-eyed against the wall in the kitchenette but otherwise untouched. Ernie was righting himself in the far corner of the room. Draco was back on his feet and looking at her with concern from the wall beside his staircase. She must have thrown everyone back in her desperation to separate them.
"Oh no," she whispered. "I'm so sorry!"
Not knowing what else to do, Hermione ran up her staircase and collapsed on her still-made bed.
