With a stretch and a yawn, Hermione rose with the first lights of the day; the sun was hidden behind the thick clouds that were still crying white snow. She had some essays to write so she started a kettle for tea, and turned on the PC that was set up in the little office next to the front door.
Books scattered on the desk, she began her research. She had enrolled in dentistry medical school, and that semester, they were finally tackling some interesting subjects. With the hope to make her parents proud if they ever remembered her, she had worked hard on her grades in college and, even when her faith to have them back had died, she continued the pursuit of a medical carrier as she had found that it was her vocation.
While she was in the middle of her work, the air around her shifted and crackled.
It was magic.
Hermione recognized it right away even if she had tried her best to forget the feeling. If she had to be totally honest with herself, she knew she would never be able to repress her nature, but she had become very skilled in ignoring the sensation. She could feel her core tightening, pulled by the magical wrenching of the Apparition Spell that just brought someone outside her cabin.
That someone knocked on her door.
She didn't bother getting up from her chair, wishing that whoever came would just leave her alone, her fingers nervously playing with her loose curls. Unfortunately, as she started typing again, her peripheral vision detected a movement in the window. Hermione's heart sunk in her stomach when she recognized the tall wizard.
Draco Malfoy was smirking at her, pointing sideways with his thumb, towards the front door. "Let me out of this damn snow storm!" His voice came muffled by the glass pane.
Hermione gave him her two fingers, returning to her essay. She was not going to deal with her past, and he was one of the worst parts of it.
"As you wish, Granger." Malfoy moved his wand elegantly, and the window slammed open.
Shaken to the core by the frozen air, she stood up and launched to close the window, but the wizard hit her with a Full-Body-Bind Spell right to her chest. Her eyes followed him while he climbed inside and shut the window, stopping the large snowflakes from entering the office.
Malfoy observed her for a moment, a crooked grin on his lips, and then he approached the PC, his eyes narrowing and widening while he read her detailed essay on the root canal procedure.
He browsed through her books and then, his grey eyes met hers. With an amused smirk, and absentmindedly pointing at the desk, he said, "Whatever this is, it's revolting."
As she felt the spell wearing off, her muscles softened, and she could finally yell at him, "How dare you break in here, piss off!" Hermione was furious but didn't dare approach him. She still couldn't believe he was there. She had expected Harry or Ginny, but not Malfoy. An explanation was nudging at the back of her head, but she couldn't quite grasp it, yet.
Draco tilted his head, his eyebrow flickered as he lifted his wand for her to see, daring her, he hissed, "Make me." He returned to her desk then and kept reading her school material, lip curled up in disgust, "Teeth, Granger? And what in Salazar's name is this thing?" he asked while his gloved hands picked up a heavy tome and pointed at a picture.
Her legs finally moved towards him, and she snatched her book out of his hands. "This is called orthodontic and it is a device to move teeth or adjust the underlying bone. Why are you here Malfoy?"
His eyes darted to hers; his tongue swiped over his teeth once. "I need my teeth fixed. Lately, they chip quite often," he said with a chuckle. Then, he laughed at something that she didn't understand, walking away from her and exploring the cottage. She followed him in silence, thinking about a way to get rid of him. She had abandoned the wizarding community right before the trials began, so she wasn't sure of what had happened to Malfoy. For all she knew, he could have been one of the Death Eaters that fled from justice. As he took off his cloak and gloves in the sitting room, she paced close to the fireplace and grabbed the fire poker, hiding it behind her back.
He was wearing a Slytherin green turtleneck cashmere pullover and black suit trousers, his shiny dragonhide shoes clacked on the wooden floor as he inspected the bedroom and the small kitchen, where he sunk in a chair, his eyes finding hers. As he leaned back, he moved his wand and summoned a biscuit from a jar she'd bought the day before. Biting into it, he smirked at her. "Let's chat."
The kettle on the stove started floating to the sink, his magic moving it and filling it with water.
"Help yourself," she quipped sarcastically, her eyes shrunken to two slits.
"Now now, no need to be a rude host." He leaned forward and turned on the stove with an incantation, the kettle flew back on it. "I have noble intentions. Besides, if I misbehave, you can always hit me with your poker."
Embarrassed that he had caught on to it, Hermione felt some heat on her cheeks and placed the poker against the wall, not too far from the chair she sat on next.
The wind outside howled, and the windows rattled, lashed by the increasing strength of the snowstorm.
"I thought Malfoys had a whole bunch of elves that cooked for them. Where did you learn how to make tea?" she could not help herself from asking.
He didn't answer, for what to Hermione seemed like a long minute, then he just shrugged. "I don't have any elves at my service, and don't give me that disbelieving face, Granger. People change. You should know."
Hermione's mouth opened in astonishment, but she decided to just trust his word. "Will you tell me the reason that brought you here?" Hermione asked again, picking up a cookie as well, and biting through it.
"Potter," he clipped. "He's blackmailing me. Can you believe it?" His eyebrow quirked up, and with his wand waving in the air, he summoned two cups and the tea bags.
Hermione crossed her arms; it was like he was flaunting his magic in front of her, testing her reactions to it. Her eyes widened as the thought that had been scratching at the back of her mind came forward with a force that made her gasp. Harry had sent Draco to convince her to go back into the magical world. The Weasleys, her friends, and Harry had been trying to lure her back for years, but she wouldn't have it. Unfortunately, she could believe Harry would resort to blackmailing because she was sure that Malfoy would have never accepted to help him otherwise.
"Did he get you on his mission to bring me back too? What does he have on you?" she asked with a little scoff, her fingers travelled to her hair to fidget with her locks.
He nodded while chewing on another piece of biscuit. He magically poured some tea before he spoke, "He's got stuff that could cost me a life in Azkaban."
"Doesn't the Wizengamot already have all that? Have you ever paid for your actions during the war?" Hermione picked up her tea and gave Malfoy a little grin.
"Oh, I paid my dues, trust me, but this is not about me. You need to go back." His tone was one of command, to which Hermione laughed.
"Everything is always about you, Malfoy. You are here just to save your arse." The former witch took another sip of her tea and solemnly swore, "I'm never going back."
The wizard leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his crossed hands. "Okay, I hope you are prepared to live a life under the Imperius Curse then, because I will use it if it's the only way to take you back."
A sense of panic spread through Hermione's limbs. She was at his mercy. For the first time in years, she reached a hand to her side, looking for her wand. She gasped when she didn't find it.
A sudden rumble coming from the outside shook the house and made both of them jolt up from their seats. The light bulb on the kitchen stove flickered as the whole cabin became a little darker. Draco turned to the window, his wand ready to strike, but all they could see was a white coating on the window pane.
Hermione picked up the fire poker and she quickly paced the internal perimeter of the house, turning on the lights on her way; she couldn't see the woods surrounding the cabin anymore, everything was white.
She found Draco at the front door. He had opened it and was staring at an icy wall, wand hand on his hip and the other hand rubbing his chin and jaw. "My incantations aren't working. We've been trapped by the damned snowstorm."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, fists on her hip. "Very funny, Malfoy. Make it disappear, and go along with it." Her first thought was that he was trying to make her use accidental magic by faking to be trapped in a snowstorm.
He shook his head at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes and with some theatrics, he shot a Fire-Making Spell right into the core of the ice door. Nothing happened.
She frowned. "Can't you apparate us out of here?"
With a crooked smirk, he approached her and looked down at her from his pointy nose. "All of a sudden magic is useful, ah?"
Her heart begun fluttering as she realized that she was trapped in a house with a Death Eater. Her feet backed her up a pace of their own volition, but he squeezed her by the arm and closed his eyes. She could see the little wrinkles of concentration at the corner of his eyes which opened back wide again, as a grimace contracted his face. "I can't apparate us out." He continued with a growl, " Fucking Potter!"
Hermione gulped, the poker fell with a loud clunk while she brought her hands to her mouth. She would have killed the Boy-who-Lived. How did Harry dare try to control her life in such a manner? Lacking any other options, he had sent an old enemy to push her to use some magic, and, just to make sure to better wound her up, he had set up an icy trap for both Draco and her. She felt herself shivering in anger, and her face felt hot and sweaty.
"Granger! Breathe!" Draco shook her arm that he was still holding, and she sucked in a gulp of air, her lungs eventually expanding.
When he finally let her go, Malfoy began pacing, hands scruffing his blond locks. Stopping in front of the icy door again, he aimed his wand at it and pronounced the Bombarda Maxima incantation.
Fingers tormenting her unruly curls, Hermione ducked to dodge the shards of ice that were flying all over the place, scattered by the forceful blasting charm from Draco's wand. She went back to the sitting room and tended to the fire. Her hands and mind were itching to research through books for a way to melt magical ice.
Without conviction, she went back to the office and sat at the computer. Surely the wizarding world didn't upload information on the internet, but it was worth a try; at the very least she could research a Muggle way to call for help from a secluded location like that one. Unfortunately, the internet was down.
Draco tirelessly worked all day with his wand. He tried to melt the ice at every point of entrance, and he almost destroyed every single wall of the house in the process. Hermione and Draco's interactions were limited to some snarky comments from the wizard, telling her that magic would have quickened each and every task she was performing; like tending the fire, making lunch, or cleaning the kitchen. He kept teasing her and he almost managed to get a rise out of her when he vanished her only half eaten lunch plate right in front of her eyes. Hermione's skin started prickling with magic, she could feel it building up under her skin, but she quickly locked herself in the bedroom, hands stroking the sensation away from her limbs. She had to admit that magical tricks definitely made life easier, but she refused to give in.
Throughout the day, she found herself following his movements, especially when he skillfully waved his wand around, his long pale fingers wrapping perfectly around his wand.
When dusk fell upon them, and she knew it did only by looking at the clock in the kitchen, Hermione pulled an improvised chicken roast out of the oven and asked Draco to take a break. She was freezing and decided to eat in front of the soothing flames in the sitting room.
He entered the room huffing, his hair and clothes completely dampened by sweat, snow, and ice that had melted on him. The red on his cheeks made him look younger, and she couldn't contain a smile. The smile died immediately when he took off his pullover and t-shirt with one swift movement, placing them in front of the fireplace to dry.
He was striking. His ivory skin distended over perfectly chiselled muscles, and his shoulders were broad and thick. Her jaw fell open when she noticed the dark bruising on his ribs.
He simpered at her, sinking in the sofa next to her with a chuckle. "You should sit a little further from the fireplace, witch. Your cheeks are on fire too."
She cleared her throat. "I was just noticing your bruises. What happened to you?"
"I suppose I could tell you since I'm going to order you to forget it after I've put you under the Imperius," he stated in a condescending way while making a plate for himself. He stabbed the chicken leg with his fork, a snicker still playing on his lips. "Theo and I run an illegal duelling club in Knockturn Alley. It's an 'everything goes' kind of duelling. Spells, Muggle fighting, whatever suits the moment. Two nights ago, I fought a Bulgarian wizard. He was a little larger than I am, and when I disarmed him, he just jumped me and beat me up the Muggle way. I still won, but it took some effort."
After Hermione filled a plate with some chicken and veggies, letting the information sink in and finally understanding his mirth concerning teeth fixing, they ate their dinner in a comfortable silence. Hermione thought about Harry as she stuck her fork in her food with violent stabs. He was going to hear from her. How could he have trapped her with a criminal? And how did they find her anyways? She didn't care. As much as it was weird, she felt safe with the sexy, conniving Slytherin.
When Draco was done eating, he placed his empty plate on the table and leaned back in the sofa. His eyes grazed over her. She could feel his gaze on every centimetre of her body, but she kept her eyes on her meal.
"Why did you leave, Granger? You were one of the best witches in our school. You loved learning about magic, I would take you to the Hogwarts library if Potter didn't lock us here. I'm sure that would convince you to go back," he finished snickering.
She smiled at him, turning her head sideways and moving her wild curls out of the way to better look at him. She sighed before explaining her actions, "At some point during the war, I obliviated my parents."
Draco sat up and nodded in interest.
"The spell turned out to be irreversible, and, to this day, they don't know who I am. They live in Australia now. That killed me and left me very disappointed with magic." Her voice was shaky and thick, she gulped down some tears before she met his grey eyes again. "Then I almost died, multiple times during the war."
He blinked, his cheeks slightly blushing. She knew he was thinking about the time she had almost perished on the floor of his family's drawing room. "I'm sorry for what my aunt did to you," he spat out in a whisper. She nodded, accepting his apology. They fell silent, his eyes grew a shade darker as they were bearing into her chestnut ones. Unable to sustain his gaze, she blinked to interrupt that stare that was full of too much grief.
"It was not your fault. That night, you did a lot to help us." After she placed her empty plate down, she explained further, "Anyways, I felt so lost right after the war. I had nightmares every night, panic attacks every time I tried to do magic, and I was forced to use Bellatrix's wand. What finally sent me over the edge, though, was Ron."
He beamed at her. "Sex was so bad that he made you give up your magic? I'm not surprised."
She couldn't contain a chuckle. "Shut up, it's not that. Many people that I loved died during the war. I guess I was hoping to find a shoulder to cry on, but Ron couldn't give me that. His brother died too. His family was devastated, and we just fell apart. Not even eight months after the war, I was gone. I started a Muggle University and never looked back. I'm done." Hermione stood up and tended to the dying fire, placing three big logs on the fading embers. Staring at the reinvigorated fire, she specified, "I'm done with magic. I thought witchcraft could fix anything. Sadly, it can't mend broken hearts." A prickly sensation at the base of her neck told her that he was staring at her.
The feeling started to turn into static electricity as though he were bringing her inner power back to life. She had felt a similar sensation when she had received her Hogwarts letter - when she was eleven.
She heard the couch springs squeaking as he shifted on it. His following words shifted the mood back too lighter matters as well, "Is the Muggle University where you study teeth? Really, Granger? This is disgusting. I mean I can relate to the idea of putting something in a girl's mouth, but orthodoxies? That's just nasty. Yuck."
She laughed, approaching the liquor cabinet. She extracted two glasses. She filled his tumbler with some whisky. She poured vodka for herself, walked back to the sofa, and extended her arm. The second their hands touched, she felt a shiver deep in her veins. He was still half naked and attractive. As she sat back on the couch, her voice came out a little breathy, "It's orthodontics. My parents were dentists. What have you been doing? No Azkaban for you?"
"No Azkaban yet, and never, if I can help it," he said, gulping down his drink and setting it on the table. Draco moved his wand and refilled the tumbler. When he leaned back, he crossed his arms, rubbed his forearms, and shuddered a little.
Hermione realized he might have been cold. She left him in the sitting room while she went into the bedroom; she came back with a red blanket, silently scolding herself for leaving him bare like that, but she also smirked because she had been quite enjoying the view. Draco tilted his head when she sat down and handed it to him; while he took it, the wizard scoffed and transfigured it into green before wrapping himself in it. "I went back to Hogwarts." With a glint in his eyes, he scooted closer to her. "I honestly thought that I would see you there, I was a little disappointed."
Hermione's brows crimped in confusion; was Draco Malfoy flirting with her? She drank her glass in a sip. He refilled it for her, tapping his wand on the rim.
"I achieved a mastery in potions under Slughorn after taking my N.E.W.T.s. He offered me a position as his assistant at Hogwarts, but I wanted to explore the real world. I ended up opening my own apothecary in Diagon Alley. Also, I've been managing my estate finances on the side. Unfortunately, since good old Lucius is in prison, someone has to take care of the Malfoy's wealth."
"Where does the duelling club fit into this busy life?" she asked playfully, nudging his shoulder with hers.
"The apothecary basement has a hidden door that leads to an underground tunnel, which brings you right to the fighting venue. It is accessible also through a magically warded manhole in Knockturn." Draco explained, extending the blanket over her shoulders, a spirited crooked smirk tugging at his lips.
Hermione's stomach made a somersault as she realized that he was definitely making a move on her. She leaned in and quivered at the feeling of his warm, naked body. With a deep inhale, she tried to regain some composure, but he smelled deliciously like snow and cologne. Head spinning, Hermione pursed her lips, forced her body to leave her brain do its thinking, and remembered he hadn't really answered her question. "Two escape routes. Clever. But I meant, why do you get yourself beat up like that?"
His chest rose against her shoulder, and then he breathed out. "I'm not sure. Stress relief, I suppose." His words came through his lips so hushed, almost as though he didn't believe them himself.
The former witch hummed as she answered her own question, without voicing her suspicion out loud. She had the feeling that it was because duelling and bruises were a way for Draco to punish himself through pain, a way to seek redemption.
They continued talking about their common past, keeping the mood on a playful banter until somehow they fell back into more forlorn topics. Hermione opened up to him as she never did with anybody else. She talked about what she went through with her parents and the difficult process of grieving her friends - losing some of them, especially Fred, had felt like a part of her family had been destroyed. Hermione wasn't sure what it was about Draco, but he made her feel in a way that Ron never could. She had hoped Ron would be the one to put the pieces of her soul back together, but he had his own grief to process - she didn't truly blame him much. As a contented silence stretched upon them, she found herself thinking, still cuddled up with him on the couch, that it was rather weird to be doing this with Draco because, well, he was Malfoy.
At some point during the night, Hermione closed her eyes, still resting on his chest and drifted into sleep, hugged by his warmth.