AN: ugh. so. Ron lovers? Anyone? Anyone? Well, I don't know any but if any *do* exist it would probably be best to vacate the premises...I am *not* a Ron lover...I could easily be classified as a Ron hater...sorry not sorry.
However I AM sorry about double emails concerning this chapter cuz I accidentally uploaded the wrong chapter and had to rectify it. I'm sure you understand my lovelies.
Chapter 4 - The Confession
"I hate her. I bloody hate her, Potter."
"No, you don't." Harry sighed, rubbing his scar.
"I could!" Draco huffed pacing the length of Harry Potter's office.
"If you hate her maybe you shouldn't have stolen my girlfriend, ferret!"
"No one's speaking to you, Weasel. You don't even work here. Go home."
"You don't tell me what to do!"
"Someone obviously had too. Your mummy let you dress yourself today?"
"She lets me dress myself every day!"
As much as Draco Malfoy detested admitting it, even to himself, he had missed the bloody overbearing Gryffindor. It had been almost two weeks since he'd last seen her, spoken to her. He knew she had been completely overwhelmed by well, everything, but he thought if they spent a bit of time together, they'd suss it out. However, the day after Draco's half-birthday party, Hermione received an owl which had altered all of his carefully laid plans.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. Where is Ms Granger? Mr. Weasley, why are you here?" Kingsley Shacklebolt interrupted yet another argument between Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley. It wasn't the first time that week and considering the way things were going, it wouldn't be the last.
"George told me to get out. I blew up..." Ron mumbled the last few words causing them to be lost amongst the collective gasps.
"Mr. Weasley, that's quite unfortunate for you, get out before Mr. Malfoy hexes you into oblivion." Kingsley Shacklebolt gestured toward the open door with the air of authority befitting the Minister for Magic.
"He gets to stay!" Ron stood suddenly, gesturing wildly toward an anxious Draco Malfoy and a disgruntled Harry Potter.
"As Mr Potter's partner and Ms Granger's fiancé, it is quite imperative he remain. You however are not an integral part of this investigation. Stop throwing a fit, Weasley or I'll have your father escort you from the premises." Ron flushed furiously, yet strode from the room without further preamble.
"Minister Shacklebolt, Hermione's been on assignment, why would you think she'd be here?" Harry stood, yanking the hem of his red plaid shirt over the top of his black jeans.
Kingsley tore the small round purple hat off his head and crumpled it in his hands.
"She missed her Portkey." He sighed deeply, waiting for the angry outbursts from the wizards before him. Instead, he squirmed, uncomfortable with the eerie silence.
"How late is she?" Harry shoved away from his desk with a furrow of his brows, intently studying the lines in the Minister's face.
"She should have reported in yesterday."
"Portkey from where?" Kingsley raised his dark eyes to meet the flickering rage in pools of grey.
"Egypt. Bill asked her for a bit of help on a particularly difficult tomb he's been working. You well know she's one of the best when it comes to obscure information."
"Is that where she's been then?" Harry held up his hand to stop Draco from interrupting the Minister, which was ignored.
"I haven't a bloody clue! She got an owl, told me she'd be back in a few days and left. That was almost a bloody fortnight ago. It's almost Yule! You get her back!" Draco didn't care if he was shouting at the Minister.
Harry's brow furrowed at Draco's outburst. As well as the two of them worked together, outside the office their relationship was difficult at best. For Harry to see Draco Malfoy rumpled, flushed and agitated due to the absence of Hermione Granger was quite disconcerting.
A loud thump and groan caused his mouth to gape at the sight behind the Minister. Hermione Granger, covered in sand, was almost unrecognizable. Her light blue Muggle jeans were torn at the seams, split almost completely up one side. Her faded green t shirt was missing one of its sleeves and she was missing a shoe. Hermione coughed hard, hacking up what looked like bits of dirt onto the black tile.
Draco Malfoy was at her side immediately, conjuring a glass of water and pressing it into her filthy hands. He pulled a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his blazer, wetting it slightly and wiped the dirt from her face. She sagged against him, her chest heaving as she guzzled down the offered water.
"Th-there's been...another." Hermione pushed unruly sweat encrusted curls off her forehead, her brown eyes narrowing meaningfully at the Minister.
"You'll need to be debriefed immediately, Ms Granger." Kingsley cast furtive glances at Harry and Draco, striding quickly for the door.
"No fucking way." Kingsley stopped, prepared to put Draco Malfoy in his place. "Look at her! She's a bloody mess. I'm taking her home. She needs a bath, a warm meal and a good night's sleep. She can bloody well debrief you tomorrow." Draco snarled, daring the Minister to refute him.
"Malfoy." Hermione sighed, still pressed to Draco's side on the hard tile floor. "It's important. This is no time to be selfish..."
"Granger. I'm a selfish man. I haven't seen you in weeks. Not even an owl. You missed your Portkey and show up looking quite a fright. You take care of everyone else and that's fine. It's my job to take care of you." Draco didn't wait for the Minister to remind him of the importance of an immediate debrief. He didn't wait for Harry Potter to hem and haw and try to placate everyone. Instead, he reached into his back pocket, withdrew his wand and Disapparated them.
"Well. It seems Mr. Malfoy has become quite attached to his fiancée. I suppose Dumbledore knew exactly what he was doing." Kingsley Shacklebolt stroked the black stubble on his dark face with a frown.
"Er, Minister? Where's Bill?" Harry scratched his head, wishing he had remained home in his warm bed with his wife.
"Malfoy! Bring me back! You have to bring me back!" Hermione shrieked in the thirteenth floor foyer.
Draco ignored her, picked her up from the floor roughly and tossed her over his shoulder. With swift determination, completely ignoring her shouts of protest, he opened the door to his flat unceremoniously. He strode through the flat, directly into the washroom. Draco snatched Hermione's wand from the back pocket of her faded jeans before allowing her feet to slide to the floor.
"Bath, Granger." Draco turned on the taps, dumping copious amounts of bath salts and scented oils into the steaming water.
Hermione crossed her arms furiously, a cloud of grime rising from her tatty t shirt. She coughed, pointedly ignoring the swirls of dust.
"Malfoy!"
"Granger. If you're not going to bloody take care of yourself, I'm going to do it for you. Now get in the blasted bath!" Hermione knew he was right. She hadn't slept properly in days. She couldn't remember the last time she had a meal. She barely escaped the collapsing tunnel when Bill…
"Malfoy, at least let me send an owl. The tunnel collapsed. Bill shoved me and if he hadn't Naj wouldn't have been there and I wouldn't be here. Kingsley's got to send a team!" Draco arched an eyebrow, eyeing her warily.
"Send a patronus." Hermione growled, yet Draco had a point. Sending a patronus was much faster than an owl.
"You have my wand!" Reluctantly Draco held out Hermione's wand, gripping his own tightly with narrowed eyes.
Hermione fingered it lightly with a slight smile.
"Expecto Patronum!" Draco watched in awe as a light riddled otter floated around his washroom. Hermione whispered a few words and Draco's mouth dropped open as it fluttered quickly away.
"Bathe." Hermione stamped her foot, wincing as a sharp pain shot from her heel up the back of her calf.
Draco eased Hermione backward until she was sitting on the edge of the bath tub. He knelt at her feet, carefully removing her heavy hiking boots. She whimpered when he manipulated her ankle to remove her grimy socks.
"You're a right mess." Hermione wanted to remain angry with his presumptions, but she couldn't. As much as she hated to admit it, there was an underlying inflection in his words. For a moment, it almost felt as if he cared about her. She allowed him to tug the remnants of her shirt over her head and peel her grungy jeans down her legs. He gasped spying the smattering of bruises in various shades of healing.
"It's not as bad as it looks, really." Hermione smiled quickly, swallowing at the darkening of his eyes.
"You missed tea with my mother. She was quite put out, which made me quite put out considering all the swatches I had to wade through in your absence. Father on the other hand found it incredibly delightful." Draco chose to sidestep the impending argument which would occur if he commented on her multitude of bruises.
"Merlin, Malfoy, I completely forgot. Didn't even have owl service where we were." Hermione was suddenly self conscious, sitting on the edge of the tub, wearing nothing but her white bra and nondescript white knickers.
"At least there's a reason you were completely incommunicado. Come on then. No need to be shy, Granger. I have seen you naked." Draco spun Hermione toward the waiting water. Casually, he stuck his forefinger into the small hole in the side of Hermione's knickers and gave it a bit of a yank.
"Malfoy!"
"Ugh, Granger. It's completely unbefitting for a Malfoy to allow such rags to even touch the skin. I'm removing your tatty knickers and that pathetic thing you'd call a bra and tossing them straight into the bin."
"I'm not a Malfoy. I'm a Granger." Hermione crossed her arms, even as Draco unclasped her bra and drew it down her shoulders.
He sighed, gritting his teeth. He didn't want to argue with her. He didn't want to point out the fact they were to be married in less than a fortnight. Draco wet Hermione's hair before lathering it with her floral shampoo. She relaxed against the side of the tub as his nimble fingers massaged her scalp. While her eyes were closed, Draco vanished her grimy bra with a small smirk. Hermione sunk further into the water with a small smile.
"Better?" Draco's thumbs worked out the tight knots in Hermione's neck and shoulders. The tiny mews, her parted lips, the pink flush on her cheeks were giving Draco a bit of an issue.
"Bloody delightful. Why are you doing this, Malfoy? It's not as if, we're..I mean we've never been...and now we've...and I'm just..."
"Granger. I realise you're used to speaking in your magic little language specially formulated for boys with scar heads, however, I'm not a bloody member of that particular club. Complete sentences perhaps?" Draco rinsed Hermione's hair, using a glass he summoned from the kitchen.
"We're not really friends are we? We've fought for most of our lives. We get along relatively well now of course and while working, but our paths do not cross often. Now we've been completely thrust into this arrangement for lack of a better term and it's a bit overwhelming really. We've gone on one date which ended in a completely unexpected..."
"Bloody fantastic, really. What's the problem Granger? Are we really back to you wishing I was a complete arse? Would you prefer if I threw a bit of a tantrum? Would that make you feel more at ease? Personally, I've outgrown such things, unless Weasel is involved. I still bloody despise that tosser. I make no apologies for it either. Is it going to be easy? Knowing us? Definitely not. Yet, it doesn't have to be as difficult as you think it should. Take it as it comes eh? Lean up yea? I want to wash your back." Hermione realised she couldn't refute Draco's words.
He had a point. She knew it was something they had discussed or rather it had been brought to the forefront in the heat of an argument, but she couldn't help revisiting such ideas. He is Draco Malfoy, former-death-eater-turned-Auror and she is Hermione Granger, Golden Girl Extraordinaire.
She thought accepting Bill's invitation would help clear her muddled thoughts, but it hadn't. In fact, it had the opposite effect. As she had found herself surrounded by awe-inspiring hieroglyphs, leading towards magically protected tombs, her thoughts had continuously strayed to the pages and pages of runes on Draco's table.
"Did you make any headway with those notes I left?" Hermione decided her best course of action was to change the subject toward something they were both incredibly passionate.
"Well, er, you're not an Auror...and.."
"Malfoy! I'm a Specialist!" Draco felt Hermione's back tense beneath his fingers and sighed.
Instead of adding fuel to the fire known as Granger, he poured liberal amounts of what he assumed was some sort of conditioner on her sopping tangled curls. He reveled in the sound of soft sighs and light moans before giving her a thorough rinse.
"No one's ever done that for me before." Hermione pulled the plug on the tub with her eyes closed, trying to conjure a childhood memory which didn't exist.
"Not even your mum?" Draco was surprised. He always thought Hermione had the sort of childhood he'd envied with copious amounts of hugging and entirely too many kisses. He wasn't able to quantify the feelings which rose in him upon discovering such things weren't true.
"I can't remember a time when she ever..." Hermione stopped suddenly, drawing a shuddered breath.
She didn't want to think about her parents. She didn't want to think of all the things they were missing. She didn't want to think about her inability to properly remove the Charm. She didn't want to think about anything, other than the plush towel Draco Malfoy was wrapping around her.
"Your foot is purple." He didn't wait for Hermione to tell him she was fine.
He gathered her in his arms, carrying her directly to his bed. Hermione clutched the towel to her chest, uncomfortable with the fuss. Draco left the room abruptly returning with various amber bottles and tins. Dutifully she opened her mouth when prodded, allowing him to pour a healing potion into her drained body. She winced as he massaged a particularly potent salve into the dark bruises on her ankle and the top of her foot.
"Oh that's lovely." Draco smirked before handing her a pair of fluffy pale blue pants and a short sleeve shirt.
"Stay right there, Granger. I'll bring you a spot of tea and then you're going to sleep." Hermione huffed, yet slipped into the outfit the moment Draco left the room.
She was thankful he had slipped a pair of knickers between the folds of the pants. She frowned while fingering the texture, not recognising the clothes
"Granger. They're new, remember? The bloody closet is filled with new purchases. Stop thinking so badly of me." Hermione had the grace to blush.
"I didn't mean..."
"Yes, you did. It's fine. Come on then, under the covers with you. Drink your tea. I'm sure Potter and Stori will be 'round later and that Weasel girl as well."
"Ginny." Hermione smiled lightly, sipping the piping hot tea. Her tired brown eyes widened upon tasting the tea. "You..remembered how I take my tea?"
"Of course. Attention to detail is nothing if not an admirable Malfoy quality." She rolled her eyes as his pompous attitude made its regular appearance. She felt her eyes drooping, his fingers brushing against hers as he took the cup from her. Hermione sighed as warm lips pressed against her forehead before succumbing to the exhaustion.
"No. Absolutely not. She's sleeping. I won't wake her."
"Malfoy. You're being completely unreasonable. Hermione would want to know Bill was found and pretty unscathed for being underneath a bunch of rubble." Harry Potter impatiently paced Draco's flat with irritation.
Draco was being completely unreasonable, according to Harry. Harry knew Hermione would be angry. She would be absolutely furious to discover she hadn't been told the very moment Bill Weasley was yanked from the cursed tomb. She'd be wondering how Naj was faring. Hell, Hermione would probably wish to owl Charlie at her earliest convenience as well. Draco Malfoy simply didn't understand the way Hermione worked and it was up to him to inform Malfoy, at least that's what he believed.
Hermione rubbed the remnants of sleep from her eyes wondering why she had woken. The draperies were drawn, yet she knew it was the middle of the night. The sound of raised voices made her climb from the warm confines of Draco's bed and pad slowly to the door.
Her foot was still bruised but the swelling had gone down. She tested her weight on it and sighed. It still hurt, but she hobbled on it anyway.
"Malfoy?" Draco spun on his heel with a scowl. He had been hoping stupid Harry Potter would stop shouting in his flat so Hermione could sleep.
"You shouldn't be walking on that. You shouldn't be awake. You see what you've done Potter?" Harry rubbed his scar guiltily.
It was obvious Hermione was a bit of a mess. If the dark circles beneath her eyes weren't enough proof, the decidedly purple bruise decorating her ankle and her inability to bear her own weight spoke volumes.
Hermione gasped, her arms instinctively wrapping around Draco's neck when he lifted her into his arms. He settled onto the sofa, holding Hermione on his lap, instead of placing her beside him as she had expected. She curled her feet against his thigh and waited for Harry to explain.
"Er..uh..Hermione. Sorry. I wanted to wake you, but Malfoy here thought it could wait til the morning." Harry had always felt a bit uneasy when faced with the narrowing of Hermione Granger's eyes in his direction.
"I'm assuming Bill was found then?" Hermione's head drooped, her forehead resting against the side of Draco's neck, his hand rubbing circles on her back.
"Well yeah, sending that patronus was bloody brilliant. Bill's fine and.."
"You thought it would be brilliant to wake me up to tell me everything is fine. Go home, Harry. Send Charlie an owl for me, tell him I'm fine and I'll see him at The Burrow." Hermione's eyes closed thereby dismissing Harry.
"See, Potter. It was unnecessary to wake her. She knew everything would be fine. She's Granger, she knows everything. Get out." Draco picked up Hermione once again and placed her back in his bed.
He climbed in beside her, hoping Harry had left and pulled the blankets over them. Draco listened to the soft sounds of Hermione's steady breathing, mixed with little sighs and closed his eyes.
When Hermione woke, she felt as if she were being suffocated. There was a heavy presence on her chest, her legs were pinned and it felt as if she'd never draw a complete breath again. She opened her eyes and spied platinum blonde hair spread across her chest. Draco's head rested on her breast with an arm wrapped tightly around her waist. One of his legs was tossed casually across hers, pinning her efficiently. Hermione tried to extricate herself, but every time she moved, he tightened his hold.
"Malfoy." She fingered the ends of his hair, wondering how it stayed so soft. "Malfoy, you've got to move."
"Too early, love." Draco mumbled into her shirt, his words muffled against the rise of her breast.
For a moment she thought she heard him incorrectly. Perhaps it was something he said to all of his conquests. He moaned, snuggling into her side. Hermione snickered, wondering if Draco Malfoy knew about his sleep cuddling tendencies.
"MALFOY!" The incessant pounding on the front door startled him, his grey eyes opening, as his breath quickened.
He took in his surroundings and his position on the bed and smirked. Draco kissed Hermione quickly on the lips and leapt from the bed. He slipped on a pair of nondescript lounge pants.
Inwardly he grumbled at the intrusive voice. He was quite enjoying the feel of Hermione beneath him, her fingers in his hair, her breast pressed against his cheek. His Malfoy pride was bellowing in ire, screaming epithets of blood purity and upholding his family name as he pulled open the door to his flat. His grey eyes narrowed instantly, his eyebrows rising into the organised chaos of his platinum locks.
"Harry told me you wanker! She doesn't love you. She'll never love you. She knows exactly what you are! You tricked her. She'll see. I'll make her see. She loves me. She'll always love me. Where is she?" Ron Weasley, in the most hideously striped sweater Draco Malfoy had ever seen burst through the door. He shoved Draco during his misinformed rant, wild eyes searching every inch of the open space.
"Weasel. She's in bed. Why are you here? Who gave you the location of our flat?" Draco knew Hermione hadn't agreed to move into the flat, yet but he knew it would irk Ron to the brink of insanity to refer to the flat as theirs.
"Bed? Whose bed? Harry told me of course. I'm here to rescue her!" Ron drew his wand, wobbling on his feet slightly. It was in that moment, Draco knew, Ron Weasley had fallen off the wagon.
"Weasel. You're drunk. Go home." He was thankful Hermione had remained in the bedroom. Draco wandered over toward the Floo, nonchalantly placing a Floo Call to the Potters.
"Oi! Potter. Weasel's here." Draco ended the call quickly in order to physically bar Ron Weasley from entering his bedroom.
"I love her. I'll always love her. She was made just for me, Malfoy. You fucking ferret. You don't appreciate her. You should be in Azkaban." Draco grit his teeth, allowing Ron to stumble about in a barely coherent stupor.
"Weasel." Draco found himself angered by Ron's proclamations, though he didn't completely understand why. He was loathe to admit he was fond of Hermione, however the idea that Ron Weasley was Hermione Granger's perfect match made his stomach roll with utter distaste.
"Shup, ferret! You don't know! You don't know a thing. You know.." Ron fell into the back of the sofa with an inappropriate giggle.
He reached into the pocket of his cloak, withdrawing a half empty bottle of firewhiskey and took a long drought. Ron pointed his finger at the dual Draco Malfoy's wavering in his watery vision and laughed. Draco crossed his arms, willing Harry Potter to get his arse to the flat before he hexed the bugger.
"What now?"
"You know, Mione is a fucking prude. Even if you do marry her? She won't fuck you. Bet she diddle's herself over the latest edition of Hogwarts: A History before she lets you climb between her frigid legs." Ron threw his head back with a raucous laugh, missing the glint of rage in the wizard before him.
"Malfoy? What is he doing here?" Draco cringed as Hermione's soft yet broken voice cascaded over his shoulder.
Draco subtly shifted to his left, blocking Ron's vision. He retreated from Ron slowly, until he felt Hermione's palm on his back.
"Potter should be here shortly." The roar of the green flames echoing in the Floo as Harry Potter stepped out eased the tension.
Hermione peeked around Draco's shoulder, her cheek brushing his arm to catch a glance of her friend. She barely remembered their impromptu conversation earlier that evening, yet taking in Ron's disheveled form was a bit of a shock. Harry nodded curtly toward Draco and Hermione, his green eyes never leaving the rising rage of Ron Weasley.
Ron had discarded his sweater after finishing the bottle of firewhisky, spinning in circles in a white, sweaty undershirt.
"There's the dirty little bitch! Bet she missed me! Used to moon over me you know. Yes, yes she did! She's not very smart for being called the brightest is she? Terrible hair, awful teeth in those days and a bit of a bitch. Not much has changed really, well the teeth. Hey! Thanks for that Malfoy. Bet you're thanking your stars now aren't you? Wouldn't want those nasty beaver teeth surrounding your cock now would ya?" Ron cackled before tossing the empty bottle at the wall, frowning when it didn't shatter.
"Ron, what are you doing? What happened, mate?" Harry held out his empty hands, entreating Ron to look at him.
"Oh if it isn't famous Harry Potter! Harry fucked my baby sister. Did ya know? Spose everyone knows now that she's a horrid little slag."
"Ron, c'mon mate. Let's get you out of here." Harry shuffled his feet, unsuccessfully trying to diffuse the volatile situation.
It hadn't escaped his attention how Hermione shook slightly behind Draco, nor her hand on the small of his back. It was strange to see them interact without hexes being thrown and Harry wasn't sure how he felt about it. He appreciated Draco's silence. Harry knew as unstable as Ron was, a single word from Draco Malfoy could make a difficult situation that much worse.
Harry cringed while watching Hermione's knees begin to shudder. He knew it was a matter of moments before they gave out from under her. Whether it was from Ron's presence or the harrowing experience in Egypt was a question Harry couldn't answer. Keeping his eyes on a stumbling Ron, he sighed and withdrew his wand from his back pocket.
Ron kicked off his worn brown loafers groaning and thrusting into the air upon the feel of the luxurious carpet beneath his freckled feet. He waved his wand about his head as if he were directing an orchestra of silent musicians.
"Accio firewhisky." Ron sang, giggling with glee as a full bottle landed in his outstretched hand.
"Ron, I think you've had enough, yeah?" Draco rolled his eyes at Harry's obvious statement. He was seriously reconsidering the invitation he'd extended to Harry if this was the result.
"Harry. I just wanted to see the little bitch. She's such a fucking tease. Didn't you try and fuck her in that tent? I mean, if she won't fuck The Boy Who Bloody Lived, she'd never fuck Malfoy." Harry truly expected Hermione to collapse. He'd witnessed years of Ron Weasley's abusive drinking patterns and it had never ceased to amaze him how the incredibly strong witch he'd grown up beside had crumbled.
"Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus!" Draco crossed his arms over his bare chest and smirked. Harry gaped at him, prepared to shout at his partner to find Hermione's wand pointing at Ron, fury in her dark brown eyes.
"Harry. Get him out of here, before I do something I won't regret." Hermione knew it was out of character for her to react so swiftly.
She was the level headed one. She was the one who was always berating the boys for rushing into the fray without a carefully laid plan. She was always reprimanding them for letting their anger get the best of any situation and yet that's exactly what she had done. Hermione realised it felt good. It felt really good. She understood Harry in that moment. Sometimes, it was perfectly acceptable to go with one's 'gut' instead of sifting through each logical scenario.
Hermione Granger was tired of allowing herself to be Ronald Weasley's whipping boy. She didn't deserve to bear the brunt of his misplaced anger. She didn't deserve to be verbally and physically abused. She cringed, reminding herself to never speak of the physical abuse. It made her feel weak. Hermione knew she was brighter than the average witch and for her to succumb, for her to stay with a man who had never truly known her or even respected her, made her feel shame.
Draco bit the inside of his cheek while Hermione sidled around him to glare at a wide eyed, furious, Ron Weasley. He knew her mind was churning, over thinking every moment she ever wasted on the Weasel and he knew he couldn't stop her. Draco always believed Ron Weasley was beneath her. He was well aware of a time when he believed Hermione to be beneath him as well, but those days were long gone. He knew she was absolutely brilliant and it was a joy to watch her work, which he did more often than he'd ever admit. He breathed a sigh of relief when their relationship had fallen apart, dreading the moment Ron would grovel, beg and plead for Hermione to forgive him.
"Mione uhm.." Harry pulled his round, wire rimmed glasses off his face, cleaning them quickly on his shirt.
"No, Harry. Don't you dare." Draco draped his arm across Hermione's shoulders, gently pulling her forward to face her best mate.
"He was trying. He was doing well. The whole engagement thing just.."
"Don't make excuses for him! How dare you!"
"Potter," Draco interjected, "Weasel said you told him..." He let the fragment hang in the air, eyebrows arched in silent question.
"I didn't mean too! It's just, he's my best mate and Stori and I were having a spot of tea. Ron just came through the Floo and we didn't hear him and he overheard and well..." Harry appealed to Hermione, but found himself shrinking from the flush of her cheeks and the low growl in her throat.
"Potter. Shacklebolt is going to suspend you. We signed confidentiality agreements for a reason. Wouldn't surprise me in the least if he altered the Weasel's memory as well. What the fuck were you thinking? Telling Stori?"
"I know alright! Shacklebolt sent me a bloody howler! I had to Obliviate my own wife! I fucked up. It happens, Malfoy! I'm sorry, for what it's worth. Stori was absolutely furious with me. She quite liked the idea of some sordid secret love affair. It's just, Ron was my first friend and I thought.."
"No, Potter. You didn't think. You weren't concerned about how that ruddy bastard would lash out at one of your oldest friends. You were feeling sorry for yourself for having to keep a bloody secret. Poor fucking you. Take your pathetic Weasel and get the fuck out of my house." Draco seethed, his arm tightening around Hermione, who nodded in agreement before they whisked back into the bedroom.
The moment the door to the flat shut, signaling Harry and Ron's departure, they breathed collective a sigh of relief. Draco leaned against the door while Hermione stood a few feet away from him studying his relaxed form.
She had seen him at the Ministry for years, casting furtive glances but she had never really studied him. She'd never seen him without clothes for that matter, which brought a light blush to her cheeks. Draco resisted the urge to smile knowingly, allowing her eyes to rove over him. She took in the taut muscles of his abdomen; the light scarring across his chest which she guessed was the remnants of Harry's idiocy.
"Like what you see, Granger?" Draco couldn't resist the barely concealed barb. Hermione's dark eyes raised to meet his and her breath caught in her throat. She hated to admit it, but Merlin he was beautiful.
Ron's disparaging words ran through her head, leaving pangs of pain in their wake. She wanted to blot him out of her existence. She wanted to forget every horrid thing Ronald Weasley had ever said or done to her during the course of their rocky relationship. She took a tentative step forward as Draco pushed off the door.
She studied the darkening of his grey eyes, the rapid breaths constricting his chest and without further thought; she reached forward and drew his head down to hers. Her lips were so soft, yet tasted of salty tears. Her movements tentative, her inexperience shining through and Draco allowed himself to be lost in the moment. He responded slowly, allowing her to set the pace until clarity returned and he retreated from her.
"Granger, stop. This isn't the way. You don't want to do this, not really." It pained him to admit such things. It pained him to be so bloody noble. He knew Harry would never let him hear the end of it, chalk it up to some latent Gryffindor quality but he couldn't let Hermione drown her sorrow in him.
"You slept with me." The accusation burst forth, laced with anger and hurt between droplets of tears seeping from red rimmed eyes.
"I shouldn't have, not really. I.." Draco hung his head, closing his eyes to hide from the flash of pain flickering in Hermione's brown eyes.
"You don't want me? You...didn't want me?"
"Gods, Granger. That's not it at all. You're so bloody infuriating. Your lack of self worth is completely astounding. You don't want me. Not really. I'm not a completely heartless bastard. It would be easy to kiss away your tears and murmur sweet nothings until I make you scream my name. I would do it in a fucking heartbeat if you meant absolutely nothing. I can't though. I can't, Granger. I can't treat the woman who's to be my wife as if she were worth nothing more than an easy slag. I won't let you bury yourself in me because Weasel is the worst sort of wizard and I don't want you thinking of him while you're lying with me." Draco never saw the wonder on her face and the acceptance of his words.
He spun on his heel and left his bedroom without another word. He didn't know if she was going to respond and he had decided he didn't want to hear her apologies. For some reason, it hurt his pride to admit he knew she didn't want him. Draco thoroughly despised Ronald Weasley for ruining what could have been an enjoyable evening. Instead he pulled a few blankets and pillows from the hall closet and settled on sofa with a groan of frustration.
"You turned her down? You expect me to believe Draco Malfoy turned down a shag from a willing witch in his bedroom no less?" Draco was regretting the moment he ever befriended Blaise Zabini.
It had only been a few days since Hermione had returned from Egypt and the tension was palpable. Draco had slipped away mumbling something about an important business lunch while Hermione poured over parchment.
"She was upset alright? Fucking Weasel was making a bit of a ruckus; Potter had to come sort it out. Hermione hexed the bastard. She's mighty quick with her wand work. The things he was saying mate..." Draco swirled his spoon in his bowl of creamy soup, shoving the tiny bobbing peas to the side.
"Well, it's obvious you care about her. I mean, you wouldn't have popped the question in the middle of my bloody restaurant if she was just another bint." Blaise sopped up the remnants of his bowl with a crusty piece of bread, waving his glass of wine. "It's admirable you know. She'll be a bit put out of course; you did reject her, but eventually? Granger's a smart witch. She'll be embarrassed, apologise and then she'll shag you which is what you really want anyway. I can't say I understand your strange little relationship. There's something you're not telling me, but I'll let it go for now. Luna says I'm too inquisitive for my own good. We should get the girls together for dinner or something."
"Can't believe you married Loony Lovegood." Draco chuckled, grimacing at the low quality of red wine swirling across his taste buds.
"Oi! Don't call her that! You're marrying Gryffindor Granger." Blaise smirked as Draco sputtered.
"Potter got suspended." Draco eyed Blaise warily, changing the subject.
"Good. He's a ponce. Happy Christmas to you. I don't know how you stand him."
"He's not a bad bloke. He has his moments of course but sometimes I question his loyalty. He's a terrible gossip as well, which is probably what makes him perfect for Stori."
"Astoria Greengrass is a Potter. Hermione Granger is a couple weeks away from becoming a Malfoy. What is the world coming too?" Blaise guffawed, suddenly choking as a whirlwind of curly brown hair scurried past the restaurant window.
"Malfoy. Sorry. Hi, Blaise. Malfoy." Hermione gasped, hiding behind the topiary beside Blaise.
"Granger? What are you doing?" Draco took in her disheveled appearance, her heaving chest and even the ink stains on her fingertips with a frown.
"Your mother. I'm hiding from your mother. She's bloody terrifying!" Hermione crouched between the pillar and the topiary as the tall blonde woman peered into the picture window with a scowl.
"Bollocks. She's angry. Blaise, be a good friend and distract her would you?" Draco reached down, grasping Hermione's hand into his own before dragging her through the lunch crowd, toward the facilities.
"Where are we going? We can't go home. I've just come from there." Draco ignored her incessant questions while enclosing her in his arms. Hermione squealed before she squeezed her eyes shut while the tug of Apparition coursed through her.
"You could have given me some warning!" Hermione shouted, slapping Draco's chest and arms.
"Malfoy? Hermione?" Harry Potter peered out his front door quizzically.
"Oi. Potter. Put on some fucking clothes you deviant. Blaise is in Diagon Alley. The café near the new build. Go meet him there and pretend you were having lunch with him. Don't ask questions, just go. You owe me." Harry nodded and shrugged on his wizarding robes before Apparating.
"Why is Narcissa sending me a Howler?!" Astoria bellowed the moment Hermione and Draco stepped foot into the house.
"Merlin, Stori, you're bloody huge!" Draco dodged the hex flying toward him with a chuckle.
"Malfoy, you're obnoxious. Sorry, Stori. Narcissa showed up completely unannounced at the flat with house elves carrying bloody armloads of swatches and prattling about china patterns and wedding dresses. She berated me for missing tea, completely disregarding the fact I was on a mission for the Ministry and threatened to bind me until the wedding plans were complete. I asked if I could use the loo first and got the fuck out of there." Hermione gasped, completely out of breath, before flouncing onto a hideous plaid settee. Draco sat beside her, covering her shaking hands with his own.
"I'm too pregnant for this. I'm a bloody house. I can't believe you left. I can't believe you don't have a dress. While I'm being honest, I can't believe you weren't going to fucking tell me about your debt to Dumbledore." Astoria lowered herself onto an oversized armchair slowly, glaring at the couple.
Hermione's eyes flitted about the cluttered room, avoiding Astoria's glower which Draco's cheeks tinted pink at the reprimand.
"You weren't supposed to know about that." Draco mumbled.
"I bloody know! Shacklebolt wanted me OBLIVIATED! Harry swore he did, but you know Harry. You're both utter tossers. Oh don't look at me like that. I'm the size of a house and hormonal. Draco Malfoy, I'm angry with you. Hermione Granger, I'm not thrilled with you either. Ridiculous."
"What did I do?!" Draco was immediately indignant even as Hermione snorted. She wandered into the modest kitchen to put the kettle on. It was obvious they'd need a spot of tea when it came to an angry Astoria.
"You haven't told her you fancy her, have you?" Astoria hissed, leaning as far forward as her burgeoning stomach would allow.
"Stori! How did you..Why would you...I can't believe.." Astoria rolled her eyes. She lifted her swollen ankles onto the striped ottoman and rested her small hands on her stomach.
"Harry didn't say a word. It was obvious he knew. Wouldn't even discuss the two of you, to my utter and complete frustration. We've been friends for years, Draco. Hell, we almost got married. What a disaster that would have been. I sat beside you the night you received the Dark Mark, hating yourself. The least you could do is tell me the truth. How long, Draco? Quick, before she comes back with the tea." Astoria ignored a blushing Hermione leaning against cupboard, just out of Draco's line of sight.
Draco's fingers raked through his mussed hair with a groan of irritation. He hated Astoria, not truly of course, but he detested the way she could delve into his secrets without a second thought.
"She's all broken, Stori.."
"I'm aware, Draco. That's what happens when you spend bloody years putting up with the likes of Ron Weasley. Don't change the subject. How long? Second year? Though, I don't see a petrified Hermione as being attractive. Third year? Don't tell me it was the slap which did you in. Fourth year? I've heard fantastic things about the Yule ball. I could keep going.."
"Stori, please."
"No, Draco. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. If I'm going to watch you marry my husband's best friend, I want to know." Draco buried his face in his hands, knowing he wouldn't deny her request. If it wasn't for Astoria's demanding stubbornness, their betrothal agreement would have gone through without a hitch and they'd be miserable.
"It's always been a love hate sort of thing, Stori. Shut up. Fine. First year alright? Are you happy now? We were all walking into the Great Hall to be Sorted and everyone was staring about wondering how they managed to charm the bloody ceiling. She knew the answer. I mean, I knew the answer but you have to remember, my friends were Crabbe and Goyle. They could never have been accused of brilliance. So when she was talking about reading it in Hogwarts: A History and the other first years didn't even know what the fuck she was talking about...I mean, of course she was Sorted into Gryffindor and that ruined even the idea of getting to know her.
'You remember what my father was like in those days. It was just little things over the years. I tried not to think about her, but she was always bloody there. Have you seen her angry? Gods, she's bloody gorgeous and she doesn't even know it! She wasted her time mooning over fucking Weasley. Not even the smart one. I mean, I assume there has to be a smart one, they can't all be blithering idiots, but he never noticed her. He never appreciated her. He never thought of her as a girl, a woman, until all his other options disintegrated. He never deserved her. I hated him then. I hate him more now. She was a beautiful, fiery, talented, fucking brilliant witch and he broke her."
Hermione choked on her strangled sob, turning back into the kitchen. She splashed cool water on her face before setting up the tea tray and drawing a shuddering breath. She wondered how her sworn childhood enemy could speak of her with such tenderness when one of her best friends seemed to despise her very existence.
"Here we are then." Hermione bustled into the living room, laden with a tea platter and false cheerfulness.
Astoria excused herself for a moment, mumbling about the excessive number of times a pregnant witch must visit the loo, while Hermione poured the tea. She set Draco's cup before him, adding his customary two lumps of sugar and a dollop of cream before tending her own. In a moment of spontaneity, Hermione kissed his cheek and smiled.
"Thank you." Draco tilted his head to the side, taking in her shiny eyes and light blush. "Thank you for the other night. Thank you for rescuing me from your mother. Thank you for not being a complete arse as far as the wedding and whatnot." Hermione reached for her china tea cup, but found her face in Draco's hands, his fingers raising her chin until she met the grey eyes, flecked with blue.
"You're going to be the end of me." Draco whispered, pressing his forehead against hers, breathing in the familiar scent he'd come to know as simply Hermione.
He leaned toward her, their lips a hair's breadth apart when he stopped. Hermione stared up at him, her lips parted, her heart pounding in her chest and closed the distance between them without another thought. Hermione's hand rose to his chest, covering his heart with the lightest touch. Draco truly had intended to keep the kiss light and chaste, until she drew his bottom lip into her mouth. He groaned, his hands sliding down her arms, fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her against him. Her arms wound around his neck eagerly, even as his fingers slid up the back of her blouse. Hermione sighed against his lips, her eyes fluttering shut at the feel of his hands on her skin.
"Oi! Stop it! There's no snogging during tea! There's no snogging here at all! Go home!" Astoria Potter stamped her foot angrily before throwing a biscuit at their heads.