In the middle of the night, Hermione woke up to the sound of moaning and rustling in the other bedroom. She reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes and looked to the clock on the nightstand. 2:32AM. Getting up, she crept into the master bedroom where Draco was thrashing around on top of the sheets, clearly in the throes of a nightmare. She sat on his left side, reaching across to lightly shake his right shoulder. "Draco, wake up. Wake up, it's not real," she said softly. She continued trying to rouse him, encouraged when he stopped thrashing as much, placing her right hand on his forehead to check for fever. Without so much as opening his eyes to look at her, Draco grabbed her waist and sharply pulled her down to him, tucking the startled woman into his chest like a teddy bear before relaxing altogether.
Hermione squirmed in his arms before deciding there was no way she was going to get free of his vice-like grip. Heaving a sigh she tried to pull some of the sheets back over them, and leaned her forehead into the crook between his neck and shoulder. If he hadn't almost died earlier and then suffered what looked to be a terrible nightmare, she would have been free to say that this was nice, being wrapped up in his arms, pulled up against his hard, warm body. Against his bare, Auror training- and Quidditch-honed chest. Oh gods. He smells like pine trees, she couldn't help but think before wanting to smack herself for noticing. Just go to sleep, just go to sleep.
Going back to sleep turned out to be surprisingly easy for both of them. Waking up to Hermione's 6:30AM alarm, Draco reached over to shut it off and turned back to looking at a head full of wavy chocolate curls and steady puffs of warm air on his collarbone. Hermione's soft, pyjama-clad body was draped over and slightly to the side of his, acting like a heavy blanket. He inhaled her spicy scent, reminded of the chai tea she always liked to drink. This is an excellent way to wake up, he groggily decided, before drifting back to sleep. No way they were going in to work today. Nuh-uh. He practically bled out the night before and now he positively refused to move until he had to. Barring the fact that he was still wearing pants, he was much too comfortable...
Hermione awoke to bright light pouring through the window and someone who sounded like Ginny pounding on the door. Remembering where she was exactly, she blushed and looked up to see if Draco was awake. Her amber gaze was met with hooded silver eyes, causing something in the pit of her belly to prance around and yell at her to do something. "Er... I should probably. Um. Get that," she stuttered, looking away and disentangling herself from his limbs. She didn't dare to look, but was sure he was still watching as she covered up the sleep shorts and tank top she wore with a robe and walked out of the room.
"Hermione, open up! I know you're here! I know Malfoy is here!" Quickly opening the door, Hermione ushered her friend in, who set down a shopping bag and peered around attempting to catch a glimpse of a certain ferret. "I got you those sandals you liked," she explained absently. "He's okay, right? He didn't die or anything."
"Yes Ginny, he's going to be just fine. He's in the master bedroom."
"Good to hear. I picked these up yesterday once you abandoned me, and Harry mentioned neither of you showed up for work today - which we took care of for you both by the way, so don't worry about owling in sick - so like the wonderful, gossip-hungry friend I am, I decided to take the rest of yet another day off to come and check on you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Thanks. What time is it anyway?"
"About ten in the morning. Didn't you set your alarm?"
"Yeah, it usually goes off at half six but we must have slept through it." Uh-oh. Ginny seemed to catch on to her slip.
"We? What exactly were the sleeping arrangements last night?"
Just then the door to Hermione's bedroom cracked open and Malfoy's head peeked out. "Granger, I'm going to shower while Weaselette hounds you for the gory details, alright?"
"That's fine. You can take the gauze off now too," Hermione said with a blush that made him smirk before ducking his head back into the bedroom. Prat. He's enjoying this.
"What happened last night?" Ginny hissed, pulling her over to sit down on the cushy couch.
"Well I apparated home to find him covered in blood on the kitchen floor. He was all gashed up, really awful, Gin. Last night's assignment must have turned out badly; I'm surprised they didn't kill him outright. Once I healed him, I floated him onto my bed and left him there. I started out sleeping in the guest bedroom, I swear," Hermione explained earnestly.
"Hey, you don't need to apologize to me. Now how'd you end up in the same bed?"
"I woke up in the middle of the night when he was having a particularly violent nightmare. Tried to go shake him out of it but he pulled me down without even waking up! Merlin, that man is strong."
Ginny grinned at that. "So how was it?"
"How was what?"
"Sleeping together! Did you guys fit well? Does he smell good? Were you wearing a bra?"
"Ginny! We may have slept together but we didn't sleep together," she said, turning red as a tomato, before adding in a small voice, "and no I was not, and yes, he does."
Ginny chuckled, before starting to ask the more serious questions. "How did you feel when you were afraid he was going to die?"
Hermione looked down at the suddenly fascinating area rug before quietly replying. "Like a part of me was ripped out of my chest. I just remember thinking, 'He has to be okay, he has to be.'"
"How did he act when you woke up? Like it never happened, or joking or what?"
"I woke up when you started knocking on the door and yelling loud enough to disturb the neighbors," she glared. "I was draped all over him, looked up and saw him looking back at me. I felt awkward, but I couldn't read his face."
"Curious. Oh and Blaise Zabini sent me a letter today. Seemed kind of odd, but he was asking if I wanted to meet for lunch today to discuss some business. Harry was fine with it when I told him, but I wanted to run it by you."
Smiling, Hermione told her red-haired friend about Draco's comment from the other night that she'd forgotten until now. "I think you should check it out, just because. I'm sure it's nothing that will put you in mortal peril; I mean, it's Blaise after all."
Ginny stood up to go, and Hermione joined her to walk to the door. "Alright, I'll tell you about it tomorrow when you come to our flat. Two in the afternoon, right?"
"Yes Gin, I'll be there unless I owl you something different."
"Oh and 'Mione dear - there's a naked Draco Malfoy in your bathroom," the redhead added wickedly before stepping out the door. "Go take advantage of the man."
"Goodbye, Ginny," came the curt response, punctuated by the door closing. Hermione went back to the living room and collapsed on the couch with a sigh, just as the door to her bedroom opened and Malfoy stepped out. He was in his clothes from the night before, wrinkled but magically cleaned and restored to their former wearable state. His hair was damp and falling over his forehead, and his shirt was untucked, but centuries of selective Malfoy breeding would not allow him to look anything other than put together, even now. She tamped down the hint of jealousy to ask how he was feeling.
"Fine, thanks to you. Do you want to hear the story now or shower first?"
"I think a shower is in order. Don't worry about sending in for a sick day; Ginny already took care of it," Hermione said, getting up to go into her bedroom and make herself presentable.
Draco walked around the room his partner had just vacated, content to look at the many pictures on the walls and rolling his eyes at the obvious red-and-gold Gryffindor color scheme. He had only been here a couple of times, just brief visits to pick up things related to work. He saw multiple unmoving shots of her parents, some seeming to be from vacations in various places, most of them with Hermione in the frame as well. There was one of just her from a past Christmas; her seven or eight self was crouching above a present she'd opened, grinning and showing off the space where she had lost her two front teeth. This one made him smile.
The other photos were all moving ones from the Wizarding World. There was a large frame filled with members of the Order of the Pheonix, up to date as of the last war. Others showed her, Ron, Harry, and Ginny posed together for various moments throughout their lives. He scowled slightly, thankful that none of the ones from the brief time Ron and Hermione were together were present; when Draco and Hermione first became partners, he had teased her and constantly probed for weak spots to exploit at a later date. When he asked if she had tied the knot with Weasel yet and bred lots of little rodents, she frowned heavily at him, a bit of hurt present but well-masked in her dark eyes. "No," she told him. "That would never have worked out; we decided to stay friends after a few months." "Did it end badly or something, Granger? You don't still want him after all this time, do you?" "No, it was just awkward," she said, starting to look uncomfortable. "Well what is it then? He got back on the horse and you didn't?" That seemed to hit a nerve. She stood there, flushing red and looking at her feet. "I doubt you care, Malfoy. Just get back to work." And that was that.
He stopped at one picture in a fairly visible space on the wall. This was the only one of Draco and Hermione; it had been taken on Valentine's Day, a month and a half ago. They were on an assignment that took them to Paris, where Draco had needed to meet in person with the leaders of a different Voldemort-loving cell than the one he had dealt with last night. More like they dealt with me, he thought dryly. Hermione had come to hang around the area, paying attention to the tracking spell dot that represented her partner on a map hidden inside her novel. Paris was far enough away from London for apparating to be risky, and the assignment was dangerous enough to warrant backup. Hermione jumped at the chance to work on the holiday every unattached woman hated; Draco was aware of this, but chose not to say anything. It was better than whatever else she had planned for the day - probably a pity-party of ice cream and sappy Muggle movies.
That evening he had taken her out to one of the nicer cafes along the Seine, one with a view of the Eiffel Tower to celebrate a successful mission. Once they finished eating, they continued chatting quietly and walked out to the riverside. A tap on Draco's shoulder made him spin around quickly; a friendly looking, old Muggle man with a camera started jabbering away at them in French. Hermione didn't know more than a few words, but Draco was fluent, very much so. "Five Euros for a picture together? You make a handsome couple, you two, and it is the night of love in the city of love. Five Euros is certainly worth preserving this memory, my doves."
Hermione understood just enough to know he was asking to take their picture because it was Valentine's Day. "Can we?" she pleaded. Draco looked slightly uncomfortable, but nodded, so she pulled out her own magical camera and handed it to the old man. "Ask him to get the Tower in the background." He did so, and the man urged them to get closer - no, closer. Draco slipped his arms around Hermione's waist because it felt more natural, trying not to think of how warm and soft she felt once he did - she's a woman, that's all there is to it - and relaxed, looking down at her with a smile. Hermione beamed back up at him before they turned to the flashing camera.
As Draco studied the shot, he looked closely at the expressions on their photo-selves' faces. Those smiles looked... familiar. Like the smiles in Hermione's photos of her parents or Harry and Ginny.
Blissful. Adoring. Loving.
No. It's not possible, was his last coherent thought, as his eyes widened and his heart stopped - before promptly restarting and taking off like a racehorse.
The cause of the blond man's mental breakdown found him sitting down on the floor against the wall, arms laying on top of his drawn-up knees. She sat down close by him, mirroring his pose and turning her head to peer at her partner. "Malfoy?" she asked softly, slightly worried, not sure what had made him clam up and stare off into space during the half-hour she spent in the bathroom. Draco Malfoy was a tough nut to crack; Hermione wondered if he was reliving the ordeal he must have gone through the night before. She resisted the urge to brush her fingers through the fringe hanging down towards his eyes. "Are you alright?" No answer. Thinking of how his given name had succeeded in grabbing his attention the night before, she gave an anxious, "Draco?"
His head whipped toward her, surprising her, his face now only inches from her own. There was an intense, pleading look in his stormy eyes, as if she was a lifeline and he was treading water in a wind-whipped ocean threatening to drown him. Hermione instinctively reached out, cupping his cheek and stroking his cheekbone with her thumb while she searchingly held his tortured gaze. He leaned into her hand, almost looking like he was going to cry, as she tried one last time to get him to speak, sounding slightly urgent this time. "Draco, love, what's wrong?" the endearment rolling naturally off her lips. He didn't think she meant it, but it broke through the little restraint he had left.
Draco surged toward her, capturing her lips in a hard, desperate kiss, sending intense thrills of heat to her belly. Thought was lost as his hands framed her face, threading into her damp hair, anchoring her to him, and she hungrily returned his advances with a low moan. Hermione's hands went to grab at his shirt, his shoulders, hair, anything she could find. He bit down on her bottom lip, drawing blood and making her gasp before his tongue plunged into her mouth to battle with her own. Easing back down onto the floor, he untangled one hand to wrap it securely around her waist and pull her on top of him. Tearing away from each other for oxygen, Draco immediately set upon the column of Hermione's neck, nipping and sucking his way up to her right ear; he listened to her mewl and pant, felt her writhing on top of him, sure she could feel the evidence of his arousal against her thighs.
Knowing she wasn't experienced and they needed to stop before any clothes came off, although he really wanted nothing more than to continue, he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, eliciting a faint whimper. "Not now," he murmured hoarsely, causing her tense up and pull back her head to look at him, feelings of rejection clear in her eyes. He tugged her back down to kiss her softly, sweetly on the lips, putting all the tenderness he felt for this woman into it as she relaxed back into him. Pulling back for air, giving her another soft peck, he tucked her head back into his shoulder and buried his face in her curls. He wanted to say the words, but she wasn't ready to hear them quite yet.
They stayed that way for a long time as each calmed down, the position much like how they'd gone to sleep except that now they were both awake, feeling each other's breaths and heartbeats. Draco's hands brushed lightly up and down her sides, hardly believing what had just happened, not wanting to ever let her go. She was pure good in his eyes. And he didn't deserve her, not one bit. But after so many years of being haunted by his own failings, he had found someone who could fill him up with warmth and smile at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world, like he was more than he was. She had defended his worth; would keep him on his toes with her stubborn, argumentative nature; made him laugh; had fought alongside him; could match him in discussions; and had saved his sorry arse more times than he could count. And he was in love with her.
Hermione's thoughts were quiet; she had been placated by his words after getting over the initial rejection. 'Not now' could be taken to mean 'later' couldn't it? Something like that at least. The intense physical reaction he brought out in her was something she had never experienced before, having explored being intimate with Ron a little but never feeling like she could stand to let him go all the way. Now she was somewhat glad Draco had stopped them when he had.
She drew idle designs with her finger on the plane of his shoulder, musing about whether they could continue on as partners. She certainly wanted to; she trusted him, had even earned his trust in return which had been more difficult, and, in the end, more satisfying than almost anything else she could think of. They were intellectual equals, unlike anyone else she'd ever gone out with or had to rely on, and he had a dry wit that kept a smile on her face. Draco had proved himself to be a good man, and he looked at her like she was his saving grace.
But he wouldn't ever consider marrying or even going steady with a Muggleborn, the insidious voice of her insecurities whispered. She doubted that he saw her as disposable considering the presence of mind he'd had earlier to keep her from doing something she'd regret. However, how serious was he? That look in his eyes was all well and good, but was it because it was her specifically, or because she was there that he pounced on her like that? Would he even consider something long-term with her or was the notion laughable?
"What are you thinking, Hermione?" Draco asked softly, feeling the fingers on his shoulder still their movements while she figured out what she wanted to say.
After some double-digit number of heartbeats, she sat up facing the other direction and began talking in a small voice that cracked near the end. "Are... are you leading me on? Because I don't think I'd be able to take it if you were."
He sat up as well, placing his arm around her and starting to stroke her hair. "What do you mean, love? Leading you on how?"
"Are you going to drop me as soon as you remember I'm still a Muggleborn? That I don't fit into the standard Malfoy plan? Draco, was... before just because... because I was a warm body and you were torn up about last night? I have to know." She finally looked back to him, tears starting to overflow her eyes.
He moved closer to kiss them away, holding her chin to stop her from turning again. He needed to look her in the eyes to say this. "Hermione, you being a Muggleborn has nothing to do with the way I feel for you; you should know that by now. I no longer care about what's expected of me. Haven't for a long time."
"So you actually have feelings for me? You don't care what your mother says?"
"I have very strong feelings for you. Whether or not I get my mother's approval has no bearing on who I decide makes me happy."
"Do I make you happy, Draco?" Hermione had to ask, the tears beginning anew as she allowed herself to hope.
He let her move her face back to the crook of his neck and bent to whisper into her ear, "Very much so, love." He rocked her and rubbed her back, waiting for the brunette to stop crying. When she finally decided she could speak again, she pressed a soft kiss to his throat and leaned back to survey him with red-rimmed eyes.
"Now are you going to tell me how you turned practically catatonic in the time it took me to get ready?"
Sighing, he urged her to stand up and followed suit. "Look at this picture of your parents, and then look at this one of Potter and Ginny. What do they have in common?"
"Hmm. Well, they all look disgustingly happy and in love, if that's what you're getting at."
"Right," he smiled wryly at her description. "Now look at our picture. What do you see?"
Hermione studied their two figures closely. Then she slowly turned back to Draco, an incredulous expression on her face. "The expressions match," she said faintly.
A grin slowly worked its way onto Draco's mouth. "The expressions match," he affirmed in a stronger tone.
