AN: See. I did not forget about you today. *kisses*
Chapter 7 - Discoveries
"A key? My present is a key? I mean, it's a lovely key, obviously an antique, I.." Hermione stood in the midst of Draco's flat staring at the small golden key between her fingers in confusion.
"Granger. Give me your hand. Come along then." Draco pulled Hermione's cloak closed, wrapping a knitted Molly special around her neck and crushed her to his chest.
Hermione gasped at the familiar yet distasteful feeling of Side-Along-Apparition. As often as she had Apparated with Harry and Ron during the war, it would never be her favourite form of travel. Draco held her tightly as they landed in a small drift of snow, beside snow laden topiaries.
"You can open your eyes." As nervous as he was, he still wasn't able to resist chuckling at her unease.
Hermione slowly opened her big brown eyes, swallowing down the remnant bits of nausea and gasped.
It reminded her of the Forbidden Forest, but the beautiful aspects. The never ending calm, the overgrowth of trees laden with dirt paths, the shimmer of moonlight on the hint of a lake or pond between the leaves.
"Great Godric, Malfoy, where are we?" Hermione felt Draco's hand slip into hers and allowed him to tug her along toward the ivy covered home nestled among the trees.
"Listen, Granger. I know it's a lot to take in. Everything, really. I know you don't relish the idea of living in my flat yet you don't want to purchase another residence either. Well, uh, this place is mine." He held a finger over her open lips, willing her to allow him to continue. "I've never lived here. I haven't even visited since my father gave it to me on my seventeenth birthday. He thought I'd appreciate a dwelling where I could entertain uh guests." Draco finished lamely.
Hermione rolled her eyes knowing exactly what sort of guest Lucius Malfoy had in mind. She kept her eyes downcast watching them create footprints in the undisturbed snow while casting furtive glances at Draco.
"I don't really know what sort of shape it's in. I didn't pay much attention to such things when I was seventeen. I had Dink clean up a bit, but I had him leave everything as it was. If-if you don't like it.."
"Malfoy, let's just have a gander yea?" For some reason she found his nervousness endearing even as his cheeks tinged pink while fumbling with the door.
"My mother loves decorating. I'm sure if you had half a mind..." Hermione held up her hand, silencing him.
Draco flicked his wand, lighting the expanse of lamps upon the wall and stepped back. He didn't care what the bloody house looked like, he wanted to see her face as she took it all in.
Hermione's boots clipped across the cream tiled floors, fingering side tables, gasping at the antiques littering the various surfaces. She swallowed audibly taking in the life size canvas leaning against the stairwell.
"That's a...this is a...Pollack. Jackson Pollack, why is it on the FLOOR, Malfoy?!"
"That's where my mother left it? I don't bloody know, Granger. Looks a bit like a mess to me, but if you're fond of it we'll find a place to display it."
Hermione shook her head, her hand hovering over the swirls of ink as if she were afraid to touch the strokes, which Draco surmised, she probably was. She wandered through the foyer, into an open, undefined space. She supposed it was some sort of sitting room, yet it was devoid of furniture. The furthest wall housed an ornate fireplace with a gold bucket of Floo powder, causing Hermione to laugh. Only the Malfoy's would ensconce their fireplace with gold.
"Yes, yes the gold is over the top. I'm aware. Come along then. The garden is through the french doors there, which you can see tomorrow. Down the hall to the left is a small washroom and I believe laundry facilities? The opposite direction is the kitchen, study, library and two ensuite guest rooms. Upstairs is the master suite with attached sitting room and nursery and I suppose children's rooms as theres an attached bath and playroom. It's not as big as Malfoy Manor which quite honestly I prefer, that place is a bloody maze with so many unnecessary rooms, ridiculous really. I'm sure I'm missing something..."
"Shut up and show me." A hint of a smile glossed Draco's lips taking in the sparkle in Hermione's eyes.
Draco barely remembered showing her what he considered a modest home. He remembered her shrieks, sighs, gasps and laughter as they wandered throughout the house. She loved the magical infused Muggle technology practically skipping about when she spotted the dishwasher and the flatscreen television. She instantly fell in love with the walk-in closets which could have fit her entire flat inside them. Draco loved watching her fingers dance along the edges of the empty built-in bookcases in the library, prattling about her book collections and how they would arrange the books alphabetically as well as by subject.
"You like it then?"
"Like it? Malfoy, this is fantastic! I mean obviously we need furnishings and some of the decor is absolutely horrid, but with time, this place could be absolutely beautiful." Hermione sighed, gazing out the master suite window over the back garden.
"Time? Granger. I'm bloody rich. It can be done before the wedding. Would you like furnishings? Wall coverings? Whatever else you'd like, make a list and owl it to my mother. She'll be bloody thrilled."
"Malfoy..I..I.." Hermione floundered. She hadn't embraced the idea of Draco Malfoy's seemingly endless galleons. She'd always had to work hard, plan, and scrimp for every Knut in order to, well in order to do anything really. She'd received a modest stipend from the Ministry for aiding in the downfall of Voldemort, yet she always tried to live within her means, barring Christmas.
"Granger. What's mine is yours. Get used to it, love." Draco swooped down and pecked her cheek. Hermione didn't expect him to twirl a strand of her hair around his finger, nor nuzzle her neck. She stood stock still, butterflies fluttering frantically in her stomach, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.
"Mal-Malfoy, it's late, I should go uhm, oh." Hermione was distracted by warm, soft lips along the side of her neck, teeth grazing the flushed skin.
"Yes?" Draco drawled, knowing the exact effect he was having on her.
"I-I should go home, I c-can ooh, owl your mum and.."
"Granger. Stay with me." His hand flowed down her arm, around her back, pressing her lower back until she was flush against him. The other was lost in her mass of curls as he worked his way toward her alluring lips. He kissed the corner of her mouth, smirking as her eyes fluttered shut.
"I-I can't. Please." Draco ignored her stuttered plea, instead working the buttons of her blouse.
He pulled her away from the window, backing them toward the only piece of furniture in the room. Hermione gasped as the backs of her knees hit the edge of the four poster bed. She was lost in a sea of sensations. Hermione felt herself sliding along the silk sheets and Draco's feather light touch across the bare skin of her midriff.
For a moment, Hermione was cursing herself for venturing anywhere with Draco Malfoy. She couldn't catch her breath and found she didn't want too. Draco removed his shirt, yanking it over his head impatiently, detesting every second he wasn't touching her. He didn't want to give her a moment to collect her thoughts, to refute his advances, to scurry away in the night.
Hermione was vaguely aware of her slacks falling to the wayside as had her blouse. Draco's scantily clad body covered hers, his lips and hands constantly moving, her back arching while reveling in the sensuality of it all.
"Gods, Granger." Draco groaned against her lips while sliding her knickers down her thighs. She rose up to meet him hungrily, pulling the silken strands at the base of his neck, clutching his chest to hers.
"What are you doing to me, Malfoy?" Hermione's husky sigh filled his senses as he worked his way down her body.
Draco was hard pressed to maintain control. He wanted her. He wanted all of her. He realised, while dallying his ministrations on her hips, he didn't just want her body. She was an enigma to him. She challenged him in ways no one ever had. She infuriated him. She intoxicated him. She made him want to be more than he was. He knew, he'd never get enough of her.
He teased the inside of her thighs, feeling her tense beneath him. Draco distracted her, toying with her pert peaks.
"Oh you can't, Malfoy, I...oh sweet Salazar!" Hermione whimpered as his tongue invaded her folds, forcing her hips to the bed. "I can't..Merlin, I can't."
Hermione's knees clenched his head in a near vice grip as her body shuddered, her limbs tingling, while she grappled with the unfamiliar tightening, low in her abdomen. The moment before her world would come crashing down around her, Draco sheathed himself within, unable to quell the desire to feel her come undone around him.
"Fuck, Granger." He hissed feeling her flutter around him, warm, wet and so incredibly tight.
Hermione thrashed her head to and fro while he moved slowly, wanting to elongate the feel of her as her fingernails left pink half moons on his hips.
"Draco." She whispered into the tendrils of his hair brushing her cheek, his face buried in her neck as he rocked his hips, her wrists firmly trapped over her head. He hadn't known how sensual his name could be. He hadn't known how hearing her gentle cry would be his undoing. While she writhed beneath him, her whimpers turning to loud moans as she reached her crescendo, Draco Malfoy came to the realisation he didn't mind, not one bit.
"I don't want to move in with you." Hermione sipped her piping hot cup of coffee, keeping a wary eye on Draco while he perused the Daily Prophet.
"Ever?!" She cringed, wishing to avoid an argument.
"I didn't say that. It's just.." Draco slammed the paper onto the glass table of his flat in irritation.
"Just what, Granger? I've never taken anyone there. Never even entertained the possibility of having a wife, having children, having anything for that matter, so what are you saying?" Draco curled his hands into fists to quell the irrational shaking. The very idea that his wife didn't wish to live with him was more painful than he'd want to admit.
"My parents. They're Muggles.."
"I know Granger, it doesn't matter. I'll marry you anyway." Draco smirked, knowing it would anger her.
"Bloody hell. Would you stop interrupting me?! Harry's going to be here soon. My mum, she wasn't a very affectionate mum or anything but when I was thirteen or so, she talked to me about...about...sex." Hermione blushed, which Draco found endearing considering what they had been doing the night before and nodded encouragingly.
"She harped about how bloody special it was and how it should be saved until you really loved someone and even then to wait until your wedding night. Well, I didn't do that now did I? My dad ordered me to never live with a man before I married him because no one wants to buy a cow if they can get the milk for free and.."
"Granger. Why was your father discussing cows? Wait. Was he comparing *you* to bloody livestock? That's obnoxious."
"It's a Muggle saying, Malfoy. It just means that women should have respect for themselves and wait until a bloke has committed himself before giving him all the perks of a committed relationship without actually having one. I just want to wait until we're...until we're..."
"Married."
"Yes, m-married before I move in with you." Draco waved his hand and rolled his eyes.
"Yes, fine, alright. I would suggest however that you allow my mother to get started on preparing our residence. She does have impeccable taste and I'll warn her to avoid the Slytherin green, although I do think it would be smashing in the study, especially with the dark wood. I wouldn't be against you moving some of your belongings into Forest Lake prior to the wedding as well."
"Forest Lake?" Hermione's brow furrowed while sipping her coffee and toying with a danish.
"The name of our home. Have you discussed the ceremony site? I know mother and father were set on it being held at Malfoy Manor. Before you get your knickers in a twist, Granger, I already told them that was an impossibility." Draco wrinkled his nose at his tepid coffee. He waved his wand, warming it while Hermione chewed her bottom lip.
"Thank you for..for not expecting me to.."
"Granger, I'd never ask you to return there." Draco stood abruptly. As he passed Hermione he leant down and kissed her brow.
Harry Potter's Patronus burst into the sitting room of Draco's flat as Hermione cleared the remnants of her breakfast.
"Malfoy! Shacklebolt needs us at Hogwarts, bring Hermione." The gentle timbre of Harry's voice dissipated as Draco rushed from his bedroom in a pair of black slacks and a haphazardly buttoned grey shirt.
"Me? Why would they need me? I rarely go on site. I mean, unless I'm requested and only Bill requests me these day. I don't really underst..."
"Granger, shut up. We need to go. Are you ready then?" Draco took in Hermione's grey striped pencil skirt and red blouse, appreciating the way the ruffles draped across her cleavage.
"Let me put on some slacks. Hogwarts was always a bit drafty in winter." Draco rolled his eyes, willing himself to be patient.
Moments later she emerged wearing a pair of grey pin striped slacks before she began tossing parchment and ancient books into her messenger bag. She twisted her mane of curls into a bun on the very top of her head and declared herself ready.
"Mr. Malfoy. Ms. Granger. Mr Potter and Minister Shacklebolt are on the Quidditch pitch. We've magically sealed it from curious students, so you shouldn't have an issue." Hermione was surprised to see Percy Weasley greeting them at the gates of Hogwarts. Quite honestly she was expecting to see Headmistress McGonagall and found herself disappointed.
"This is the twat Weasley yea?" Draco poked Hermione's ribs with his wand, reaching for her hand.
"That's uncalled for, he's not a...not a...well, he's much better than he was during our days at Hogwarts."
Hermione sniffed, following the arrogant bounce of Percy's head. While he wasn't as overbearing as he used to be, Percy still had an air about him which made her want to hex him.
"We know our way to the Quidditch pitch, you realise." Draco's hand twitched as he controlled the impulse to send the red haired wizard into a broom closet.
"Ministry regulations demand all non-Aurors be escorted to any and all investigation sites."
"Granger is a Specialist. She's the bloody liaison between the Aurors, Gringotts and the Curse Breakers. Without her, we couldn't do our bloody jobs. She's who we call when our investigations stagnant because we can't decipher whatever mess is left behind due to Dark Magic. You're quite a pompous git aren't you?" Hermione found herself quite surprised by Draco's passionate defence.
"Mr. Malfoy, you'd do well to remember I am the head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Minister Shacklebolt requested *me* to escort the investigators to the site of the crime."
"Oi, Weasley, unless there was another mishap with a flying car, perhaps you'd do well to remember that an Auror and a Specialist, as well as former Hogwarts students, do not require a bloody escort. LEAVE US!" Percy sputtered, drawing himself up to his full height, which was still considerably shorter than Draco Malfoy yet stepped away. There was a fire in the stormy grey eyes which he did not wish to engage. With a curt nod towards Hermione, Percy quickly disappeared around the corridor toward the Great Hall.
"That wasn't necessary, Malfoy."
"Granger. I'm aware. I simply detest the little fucker. C'mon then. Potter looks quite a bit out of sorts." Draco sighed, buttoning Hermione's cloak tightly up to her throat to ward against the blustery cold. She allowed herself a small smile as he slipped on his rabbit lined gloves.
"Malfoy, don't let her out here. Not yet." Harry called across the pitch, a sickly green pallor on his cheeks.
Draco grasped Hermione around the waist, pinning her back to his chest. She didn't argue nor fight against his embrace, instead stamping her feet to ward off the cold. She was used to Harry's antics, which had been adopted by Bill Weasley as well. They would never learn she was a perfectly accomplished witch in her own right and had a stronger constitution than both of them combined.
"Granger, can you uhm, stop wiggling?" Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably as Hermione's bum rubbed against the fly of his slacks. She giggled, which he had never heard before as she wiggled deliberately.
"You could always let me go, Malfoy."
"Or I could fuck you against the wall if you don't behave." Draco slid his hand over the curve of her bum, giving it a bit of a squeeze. He nuzzled her neck, catching her earlobe between his teeth as her breath quickened.
"Stop. Not here. Not now." His breath caught in his throat at her breathy little whisper, making his trousers tighten.
"Kiss me, then." Draco observed Kingsley Shacklebolt and Harry in a deep conversation with a few Aurors, their backs turned toward whatever lay on the ground.
Hermione turned slowly in his arms, her hands pressed against his chest as she looked into his smoldering eyes.
"You're insatiable, aren't you?"
"I've heard married couples have a shoddy sex life, so I'd like to get as much as I can now." He winked and wiggled his pale eyebrows with a ghost of a smile.
Hermione raised herself up onto the tips of her toes to lightly peck his lips, but Draco wasn't about to let it end there. His hands roved over her back, cupping her bum and lifting her against him. Her legs automatically surrounded him as he spun their bodies away from prying eyes. He fumbled with the locker room door, plunging them into darkness. He slipped his hand into her cloak, yanking the hem of her blouse out of her slacks until he felt skin beneath his palm. Draco growled into her mouth, grinding his pelvis into her as they crashed into a wall of lockers. Hermione rocked against him, breathless, excitement coursing through her at the very idea of being caught by an errant student or a nosy Auror.
Draco dropped Hermione's feet to the floor and spun her around. He yanked her slacks down off her hips until they pooled at her ankles.
"Put your hands on the bench." Hermione acquiesced, hearing his belt clatter against the tile when he dropped his slacks.
He pressed his hand against the small of her back, kicking her feet apart before plunging into her. They groaned at the contact and a wicked part of Draco wondered what Hermione's mum would think as he thrust into her daughter.
"I hope your cock falls off, Malfoy." Harry Potter shielded his eyes the moment he entered the changing area for Hogwarts Quidditch players.
He knew Draco Malfoy better than he wished to admit. He caught sight of his best mate kissing Malfoy and knew it was only a matter of seconds before Draco had worked his way into her skirt. He wasn't disappointed, though still a bit on the queasy side considering what awaited him in the middle of the pitch.
"Good thing we're dressed then eh Potter?" Draco gave Harry a wink and a smack on the bum.
"Hermione. Your blouse is inside out. We're ready for you on the pitch. Kingsley wanted the Cleaners to have a go before you got to work. It's always worse when we know them. Hasn't happened for a bit, eh Malfoy?"
"Why'd Kingsley request Granger? I mean, she's fantastic of course, but how often is the Specialist brought to the scene?" Draco kept an eye on Hermione while she scuttled into the showers to adjust her blouse.
Harry sighed. He cleaned his round wire rimmed glasses on the edge of his Gryffindor scarf. He knew Draco was going to be angry with him. It wasn't often Harry Potter withheld information from his partner, but these were extenuating circumstances.
Until the engagement of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger was announced on the front page of the Daily Prophet, there were still some members of the Ministry who were convinced Draco was still involved in the Dark Arts. While Draco had become used to such accusations, he had never been removed from a case.
That wasn't exactly true, as Harry was about to divulge. Instead, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Harry Potter put forth an incredible effort to shield Draco from certain aspects of their investigations. It wasn't as though Harry didn't trust his partner, he did, but when the other Aurors were clamoring to the Minister for Magic that Draco Malfoy was responsible for the recent unsolved deaths, it was a fine line between right and wrong.
"Listen, Malfoy. I want you to know it's nothing personal. It wasn't my idea, I was just following orders. Why don't you give Hermione your wand?" Harry's feet shuffled on the cool tile, small beads of sweat forming on his forehead, despite the chill in the air.
Draco's eyes narrowed perceptibly yet he held out his wand to a nervous Hermione. She tucked his wand in the back of her slacks and crossed her arms. She could read Harry better than his wife and knew he felt guilty about whatever he was hiding.
"Potter." Draco growled, a tic in his cheek twitching, despite his cool demeanor. Hermione could feel the animosity coming off him in waves. She grasped his hand, squeezing.
"Kingsley has had Hermione piecing together some runes that were uhm found...in Muggle London. Don't glower at her. She didn't know, er doesn't know, but I suppose it's all going to come out anyway now." Harry sighed, yanking on his unkempt dark hair in frustration.
"Harry, what are you going on about?" Harry watched the couple as they leaned into each other, unaware of their close proximity. Draco's chin brushed the top of Hermione's head and Harry watched him inhale deeply and calm.
"The runes Kingsley sent you were from bodies. Don't interrupt. We thought it was a singular event and the Minister didn't want to cause a panic. We kept it under wraps. Williamson riled up some of the Junior Aurors and well..."
"Well what Potter? They decided I was a viable suspect and shouldn't work the case regardless of the fact my partner is Harry bloody Potter and my fiancée is Hermione Golden Girl Granger? Bloody delightful. Might as well resign now. It's pointless." To Harry's surprise, Draco slumped onto the bench behind him, his head in his hands. Hermione perked beside him with a frustrated sigh.
"I defended you! I told the Minister he was being unreasonable. Williamson started clamoring about how bloody right he was after they stopped."
"How many were there, Potter?" Hermione rubbed Draco's back, pulling his head to her abdomen.
"There were two. This one here is the third and the Post Mortem Healer determined time of death and you were at the bloody Burrow. Williamson's been demoted to desk duty and I expect he'll be dismissed before long. Shacklebolt's called in Cleaners Chang and Nott. We don't know if there's a pattern. We don't know why these particular people were targeted. We don't know a bloody lot, but like I told Kingsley, we're not going to figure out a bloody thing by keeping one of our best Aurors on the sidelines. Pull your head out of your arse Malfoy and let's go."
"How would my head get in my arse Potter?" Draco shuddered with the imagery. He kissed the inside of Hermione's wrist while standing and drawing her to his side.
"It's a Muggle expression!"
"You're conveniently avoiding the names of the victims, Potter. Don't think I haven't noticed." Harry's green eyes flicked to Hermione nervously.
"He doesn't want to say with me here. It's alright Malfoy. I'm not an Auror. I'll go out to the pitch.."
"No." Hermione sighed with a roll of her eyes but didn't argue with him while giving back his wand.
"Fine, I'll wander around the grounds a bit. I haven't been here in ages. I'll stay near the castle."
Hermione kissed the cheeks of her boys before exiting the locker room in a swirl of bouncing curls and the lingering scent of parchment.
"Malfoy, I.."
"It's fine, Potter. Get me up to speed, I don't want her out there alone for too long."
"You really fancy her then. I mean, Stori always said and it was sort of amusing to watch you get so bloody angry about it, but you do."
"Potter, can we not do this now?" Draco growled, his pale hair falling into his eyes, clutching his wand in a sweaty palm.
"I'm not asking for a confession of your deepest affections, Malfoy. It just seems things are going swimmingly with Hermione and I'm rather fond of her. I don't want to see her get hurt."
"I don't either, Potter. You've asked me before and I've answered. Leave it alone."
"Yeah, but that was before, I mean.."
"Potter! You're as bad as the Weasel! No wonder the two of you needed her. Yes, I fancy her. It would be bloody impossible not to fancy that irritating, infuriating, delightfully sexy minx. I care about her and I don't want her hurt anymore than you do. Now. Who were the first victims?"
"Michael Corner was found first. He had a rune carved into his back. Marietta Edgecombe was found a few days later, but from what Patil says Marietta was killed first." Harry was still wrestling with the idea of Draco Malfoy referring to his best friend as a sexy minx and shuddered slightly.
"This was kept from me why? Who are they? Should I know them?" Draco's fists clenched and unclenched, willing Harry to speed his explanation. He had an uneasy feeling and wished to find Hermione.
"Marietta and Michael were in Ravenclaw. Michael was in our year. Marietta was part of the resistance during fifth year until she betrayed us to Umbridge."
"Wait, was she the one with "sneak" etched on her forehead?" Draco vaguely remembered the Golden Trio snickering at a forlorn brunette, but the memory was vague. He had larger things on his mind during those years.
"Exactly. C'mon then, I'm sure Chang and Nott are finished and Kingsley will want a word. We'll go and find Hermione first though." Harry smirked, noting Draco's unease.
The two strode in easy silence down the corridor which led out to the Quidditch pitch. There was a small gathering of witches and wizards near the Minister for Magic in gaily coloured robes. Draco's chest tightened with anxiety upon noting Hermione's absence and looked to Harry who echoed the sentiment.
"Nott, have you seen Granger?" Draco approached Theo, his hand twitching with his wand firmly grasped.
"Granger, hmmm. She gave us a wave before I sent Chang back to the lab and wandered over..." Theo was interrupted by red sparks lighting the sky. Draco spun on his heel, running toward the direction of the sparks with Harry on his heels.
"GRANGER!" Suddenly the fear of Hermione Granger being in danger at her second home had him gasping for breath.
He was crashing through bushes, dodging around trees, leaping over exposed roots, pushing his body to its limit even as his muscles burned. Harry was cursing behind him, his glasses askew, dirt clotted on his knees from tripping over roots, specks of blood decorating his cheeks from the backlash of branches and he spotted her.
"Malfoy wait." Harry crashes into Draco, knocking them into a tree on the edge of a clearing. "I know this place."
"Fuck you, Potter, she's right there." Draco struggled, trying to free himself from the frenzied scarhead, but Harry helds tight.
Hermione was struggling, something heavy pinning her to the ground. Little shrieks of discontent escaping her lips as her breath floated in the air around her head. She was shoving, pushing and cursing, unable to reach her wand. Draco finally gave Harry a shove and raced across the clearing.
"Potter! Potter there's another. Send for the Minister!" Draco wrenched the cumbersome wizard from on top of Hermione's legs and pulled her into his arms. His fingers raced across her skin, inspecting every scratch and bruise. When he was satisfied she was relatively unharmed, Draco kissed her, hard and bruising until he was forced to come up for air.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Hermione wasn't looking at him; she didn't see the abject horror and fear in his silvery eyes. Tears were dripping from the corners of her eyes, her gaze steady on the cold, gray wizard lying in the snow behind them.
"I-I hadn't intended to go so far. There was someone on a broom and I was curious. I wanted a closer look and then I was on the ground and…and he was on top of me." Hermione fingered her bruised lips, strangely grateful for Draco's vise grip around her waist.
Draco stood between Hermione and the deceased wizard. He didn't want her traumatised any further, regardless of the things she had been a party to during the war. He could feel her stubborn resolve crumbling before his eyes as she began to quiver in his arms.
"I need to get you home." Draco murmured, brushing escaped curls from her forehead.
"I'll be alright, Malfoy. I have a job to do." Hermione sniffed, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her black cloak.
"No, Granger. I'll have Nott or Chang take some photos of the scenes. You don't need to be here. Someone threw a fucking person at you from a broom! You're going home!" Hermione wasn't used to anyone telling her what to do. She was a head strong, stubborn, intelligent witch. It was disconcerting to find herself being ordered about by Draco Malfoy, yet she knew he wasn't wrong.
"Malfoy," Harry panted, clutching the stitch in his side, "Kingsley wants us in McGonagall's office."
"I need to get her home, Potter." Harry nodded readily. The tension was palpable as Junior Aurors surged through the bramble.
"Not you lot. Head back to the Ministry. Send out Pucey, Longbottom, Chang, Nott, Patil and fucking Parkinson. The rest of you lot, clear out. I won't have you contaminating the bloody evidence." Draco snorted. Harry Potter had an air of authority which had the Junior Aurors and Trainees practically quivering in fear as they nodded rapidly, jumping to obey their superior's orders.
Moments later, Draco, Hermione and Harry stood uncomfortably in Head Mistress McGonagall's office, awaiting the arrival of the Minister and Minerva McGonagal. Draco unceremoniously flounced into an armchair, dragging Hermione down with him. Harry finally settled in an armchair in front of the imposing desk as the portraits of former Headmaster's stared down at him. He couldn't make himself meet their gazes for reasons he didn't quite understand himself.
"I suppose you're quite proud of yourself, aren't you Albus?" Severus Snape's portrait sneered, his beady eyes narrowing.
Draco stiffened hearing his godfather's voice. He sat in the remaining chair, pulling Hermione into his lap. It was unusual for her to remain silent and he was concerned.
"Are you alright, love?" Draco pulled Hermione's hair back in a fist, exposing an ear. She simply stared at the blank space on the wall and nodded imperceptibly.
"Mr. Malfoy, we're alone, there's no need to continue your charade." Kingsley Shacklebolt had entered the Headmistresses office silently, his dark eyes flashing in irritation.
"You thrust us into this situation and you've the audacity to insinuate I shouldn't care for her? That's bloody impossible. I need to bring her home. She's obviously unwell considering.."
"We're all unwell!" Shacklebolt shouted, his cool veneer shattered. He slumped on the edge of Minerva's desk, rubbing his forehead.
"Minister, I think Malfoy here is just concerned about Hermione's welfare. It's not really necessary for her to be here. I sent for the Cleaners and a few members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but only the ones with discretion. I'm sure we can have extensive photographs delivered to Hermione later this evening and.."
"Are you presuming to tell me how to do my job, Mr Potter?" Harry gulped, unaccustomed to Kingsley reprimanding him.
"Of course not, sir."
"Very well then. Mr Potter take Ms Granger down to the Quidditch pitch so she may inspect the scene. There are wards surrounding Mr Wood which need to be broken."
"No." Hermione's voice was so muted; it would have been missed if Kingsley hadn't drawn a breath.
"Weasley can do it. I'm bloody well taking her home. If you have a problem with that, you can fucking fire me. I'm. Not. Leaving. Her." Draco growled, his face flushed and Harry knew it would be mere seconds before wands were drawn.
He glanced at his former Headmaster's portrait to see blue eyes twinkling behind half moon spectacles and sighed. It was just like Albus Dumbledore to remain silent during the moments others wished he would speak.
"If I hadn't seen it myself, I never would have believed it." Harry leapt to his feet, feeling every bit the naughty student as Minerva McGonagall swept into her office.
"Mr. Malfoy! I'm not asking!" Kingsley gripped his wand so tightly Harry cringed, expecting the wood to splinter in his beefy dark hands.
"Fuck. You." Harry groaned, rubbing his scar vigorously. Minerva McGonagall's mouth dropped open, horror etched into the lines on her face. Severus Snape's portrait snorted, tossing his mane of dark hair over his shoulder.
"Kingsley. You're being completely unreasonable. As much as it distresses me to admit, Mr. Malfoy obviously cares for the girl. She's decidedly out of sorts and requires medical attention. Personally, I'm surprised my godson is still besotted by the Gryffindor know-it-all but alas, we are all aware of the heart's desires. Let him go. He'll be of no use to you if you command him to stay nor if he vacates his post. You need him more than he needs you." Severus Snape spat even as Albus waggled his fingers at him, still smiling brightly.
"Albus, do stop taunting Severus." Minerva grumbled as she placed a thin hand on Draco Malfoy's shoulder. Kingsley sputtered with indignation yet remained silent. Harry wished he had his invisibility cloak, wanting only to disappear.
"Whatever do you mean 'still besotted'?" Kingsley glared at Severus.
"Minerva, I cannot be expected to work under these conditions. The Minister is a fool. It's obvious Ms Granger needs to leave and he's more concerned over my godson's affections." With a flourish, Severus vacated his portrait, causing Harry to smother his snort of laughter.
"Kingsley, shut up. Mr Potter, sit up straight. Mr Malfoy, I would appreciate it if you would stop snogging Ms Granger and pay attention." Reluctantly, Draco released Hermione's lips, smirking as a flush returned a touch of colour to her cheeks.
"Minerva.."
"Kingsley, you're being unreasonable. This is Hogwarts which falls under my jurisdiction. Mr. Potter, please oversee the personnel on the Quidditch pitch and if possible remove Mr. Wood and Mr. Krum from the premises. Luckily, most students returned home for the holidays, but it's best not to take our chances. It would hardly behoove a Ministry investigation to have some unequipped first year stumbling across deceased wizards on the grounds. Please secure a search party or some sort of patrol to ensure there aren't any further victims on the grounds. I believe Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Pucey are waiting for you in the Great Hall." Harry nodded, knowing he was dismissed. He patted Hermione's head, swiftly leaving the office.
"Viktor and Oliver? I-I I knew them." Hermione gasped, tears pricking her eyes. She began mumbling to herself, her breathing quickening as her knees knocked together with their shaking. Her fingers gripped her hair, fisting it until it was painful.
"Granger."
"No. No. I know them. They can't. It's. I just." Hermione closed her eyes, blocking out the sounds of raised voices and the clinking of bottles.
She felt cool fingers beneath her cloak, fiddling with the hem of her blouse until they touched the warm skin of her back. The pressure was comforting as was the rocking motion against the hard body. Paper thin fingers tapped her bottom lip, pressing a glass bottle into her slightly parted lips. She swallowed out of necessity, her lip curling at the unpleasant taste.
"This is exactly why I wished to take her home." Hermione's head fell against his neck, her hand cupping his cheek at the sound of his hissed words.
"I believe Mr. Malfoy is correct. Ms Granger requires rest. I'm sure Mr. Weasley is more than capable. He was quite adept in Ancient Runes, if my memory serves me correctly." Minerva glowered at Kingsley, daring him to refute her. He scowled yet nodded.
"Mr. Malfoy, I'll overlook your unprofessional, insubordinate outburst this time. Due to your impending nuptials and Ms Granger's questionable health, the Ministry will allow the pair of you to..."
"Mr. Malfoy, Ms Granger, go home. You shan't be required to attend your respective occupations until after your honeymoon, which I'm assuming you're taking her some place lovely. She deserves it Mr. Malfoy. That's what you were planning on saying, wasn't it Kingsley?"
"Of course." Kingsley waved his hand, dismissing the pair, to his great chagrin. He detested being reprimanded by anyone, yet tolerated it from the Headmistress begrudgingly.
"Er uhm, thank you. I suppose we'll be going then." Draco struggled to his feet; a sleeping Hermione nestled to his chest.
"Hermione. Please come out." Harry pleaded, his forehead pressed against the oak door, his green eyes shut tight.
"Draco, what did you do?" Stori waddled across Draco's flat, her blonde hair tussled with interrupted sleep while her fingernails racked across her extended abdomen.
"It wasn't me!" Draco handed Stori a glass of chilled pumpkin juice before pouring himself a glass of white wine.
"It never is, is it? C'mon then, tell Stori what happened." Stori grimaced. She hadn't the heart to inform Draco she hadn't been able to stomach the taste of pumpkin juice in weeks.
"She was sleeping. I brought her straight home after the Hogwarts debacle. I checked on her and she seemed to be alright. Chang and Nott came by to give me a copy of their notes. I might be banished from the office until mid-January, but Granger would be bloody cantankerous without being kept informed."
''Yes, yes, but what does this have to do with Harry receiving a Floo Call and Hermione locking herself in your bedroom." Stori wasn't used to a rambling Draco Malfoy. He normally had a minimalist attitude in regards to everything. It appeared the little Gryffindor Princess was creating a bit of havoc in the perfectly organised world of Draco Malfoy.
"I'm getting to it you impatient wench. Granger woke and we were discussing motives and alibis trying to compile a list of likely suspects when she got distracted by the runes. I'm sure Harry informed you they were carved into the bodies, post mortem, using magic no less." Stori nodded, shivering in revulsion.
"I'm aware. Harry brings home his work home entirely too often for my liking. I'd rather prefer silent brooding."
"Right so, well, Pansy came by. I didn't invite her. I mean, I knew Potter called her to Hogwarts. She works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement but we don't have much contact with the rest of the office. Potter swears by her, says she's one of the best. I haven't seen her in years, well besides the day Potter and I saw her in Diagon Alley and.."
"Draco. I'm not accusing you of anything. No need to sound so bloody defensive. I'm assuming Pansy brought by the photographs. If she was smart she brought Magical and Muggle, but who knows with her. Let's see. She probably made a pass at you, in front of Hermione and all hell broke loose, yes?" Stori propped her swollen ankles on the dark wood coffee table with a twinkle in her blue eyes.
"Patil knocked on the door. I don't know which one and I don't care, don't bother. Of course I opened it; she's the Post-Mortem Healer. She thrust a packet into my hands and left. She didn't even say anything, which I thought was a bit strange. I was in the process of closing the door when fucking Pansy flung herself into my arms and just started kissing me. I mean, I shoved her off immediately. She laughed and kept stroking my arm, trying to whisper in my ear about being available later. Granger was right bloody there, just staring."
"Would you have preferred it in she started hexing the tart?"
"Frankly, yes!"
"What did Pansy do?" Stori rolled her eyes, ticking off the numerous things their old housemate could have done to drive Hermione to tears.
Draco's hands shook as he refilled his wineglass, listening to Harry knock on the bedroom door. He should have said something. He should have done something. He knew Hermione had good reason to be upset with him, but he didn't want Stori angry with him as well.
"Oh, it wasn't all Pansy, was it Draco?"
"I couldn't believe it. Potter's been going on about how much Parkinson's changed since Hogwarts, but she was the same swot I'd known my entire life. She stalked right across my flat and smiled at Granger. She had the audacity to tell her that Draco Malfoy would never be truly committed to a Mudblood and the sooner she learned she was being used for the social standing of the Malfoy's the easier her life would be. Sh-she told Granger that she'd always be the mousy, unattractive, bushy haired, buck-boothed, know-it-all and to hang up her dreams of being bedded on her wedding night because the Draco Malfoy she knew would never touch her. That wasn't the worst bit though. The worst bit was when fucking Pansy said that it was Granger's fault Wood and Krum were dead because that's what happens to upstanding wizards when they lower themselves to associate with Mudbloods."
"Merlin, Draco. Tell me Hermione hexed her. Tell me you did something." Stori sniffled, cursing her pregnancy hormones while her heart ached for Hermione.
She'd only become semi-friends with the brunette due to Harry but she'd grown closer to her over the years and valued their relationship deeply. She was the first to admit she'd been overly jealous in the early days, but she'd since learned Harry and Hermione had never harbored any romantic feelings toward each other.
"I didn't hex her or anything, but I did shove her out of our flat and I sent Kingsley an owl. I don't know what happened. Granger just stood there, staring and then she started crying. Granger's never really been a crier and I didn't know what to do, so I called Harry. What else was I to do?"
"I don't think she's upset about Pansy. I mean, I'm sure it angered her, but Hermione's heard loads of shite from witches and wizards her entire life. I think the bit about Krum and Wood is particularly upsetting."
"Stori, she's asking for you. She won't open the bloody door for me, but she shouted for you. That's something I suppose. Fucking bugger of a day." Harry threw himself across Draco's sofa unceremoniously.
"Of course it's the pregnant woman to the rescue. Why didn't you Floo Ginny?" Stori struggled to her feet, internally swearing she was having twins by her size and lumbered down the short hall toward the bedroom.
"The Weaselette? Ugh. However did you manage with that one Potter?" Draco's lip curled as there was no love lost between himself and Ginny Weasley.
"With difficulty, Malfoy. Ginny's not that bad though. She's a pretty girl and all, she's just harboring so much bloody animosity it makes it difficult to deal with her. Did ya know Stori thought I still had designs for Ginny? Could you imagine? As if I would choose her over Stori?"
"Stori had a bit of trouble at Hogwarts. People sort of assumed she was a bit of a bitch like her sister. Remember Daphne? That witch is a piece of work. I wonder which unlucky wizard is going to get saddled with her."
"Stori was a bit of a bitch but it was a coping mechanism really. She acted horrid since people expected her to be horrid. Once you get past a woman's defences, you see who they really are and it's beautiful."
"Potter. You sound like a woman. Stop it."
"What if she was right, Stori?" Hermione sniffled into a handkerchief while settled on Draco's bed. Stori laid on her side, patting Hermione's knee.
"Meo-Mio. Pansy is a tart. She's always been a tart, she'll always be a tart. She's had her eyes on the Malfoy fortune from the time she could walk. She's jealous. She'll always be jealous of you. Anyone with half a brain could see he was never going to end up with her. It would've been impossible as his eyes were always following you and she bloody well knew it."
"Stori, there's no need to attempt to inflate my nonexistent ego." Hermione chuckled despite her red rimmed eyes and the familiar melancholy which settled within.
"He cares about you. He might be complete shite at showing it, but he cares. If he didn't care he wouldn't have dragged Harry and I over in the middle of the fucking night to make sure you were alright. As for the rest? Ugh. Fuck Pansy. There's some psychotic tosser out there sure, but that doesn't mean they're dying because of you. Oliver Wood was a piece of work. Did you know that? He frequented the Wizard Club Nox. That's a shady place if there ever was one. Viktor Krum was a pompous ass. I'm sure there are plenty of people that wanted to do away with them. If it bothers you so much, get up off your ass, go through the notes, translate those runes and figure it out. You're Hermione fucking Granger."
"It's not that. It's not any of that. Well, alright! Don't look at me like that. It's part of it, but not all of it. Malfoy just stood there, which quite honestly I expected him to do exactly what he did. It was what Pansy whispered right before he tossed her out on her fat arse." Hermione cuddled into the royal blue duvet to stave off the chill in the air.
Stori rolled her eyes and flicked her wand, purring as the fireplace flickered back to life.
"What did the bint say then? Come on."
"She said that no one would ever know Malfoy as well as she did and it would only be a matter of time before he sought out someone else." Stori ignored the crack in Hermione's voice and the onset of new tears. She wanted to send Pansy Parkinson a scathing Howler but knew it wouldn't ease Hermione's anxiety.
"I fucking hate her."
"It just made me think. They were friends for years. Malfoy dated her for a stint. They were really close until the end of the war. I don't know what made everything fall apart but she made me realise I'm marrying Malfoy. He's practically a stranger and we've gone from office banter to engaged to shagging but I don't really know him and.."
"Wait. You've shagged him? I mean, I thought the two of you just snogged, quite a lot actually but shagging? Wow. I'm impressed Meo. I always thought you'd be that prissy and prim sort of witch that wouldn't shag a bloke until your wedding night. How was it?"
"Stori!"
"Oh c'mon then! I'd tell you about Harry but I don't think you want those sort of details. Just give me something. Was it good?" Stori wiggled her eyebrows as her stomach danced from her son's tumbling.
"I haven't anything to compare it to now do I?" Hermione blushed.
"You're blushing. It must have been bloody fantastic. I'd heard some rumours but Draco and I never had that sort of relationship regardless of what was said about us. As for the strangers bit, you're delusional. What's his favourite colour? How does he take his coffee and tea? What's his favourite food? Showers or baths? When he's nervous what's his physical tell? You know all these things and more. He's not a stranger. You can deny it all you like but you know him and he knows you. Perhaps you should spend more time talking to him about these worries instead of locking yourself in his bedroom. I'm bloody starving. Get up and fucking feed me. Your godson requires sustenance." Stori slid to the floor, thankful for her short stature and waddled to the door expectantly. She flung the door open and pointed toward the kitchen with a stamp of her foot.
"Blue. Not sky blue or royal blue, that shade in the middle. During the week it's morning showers, though on the weekend he prefers nightly baths. He hates peas. Coffee is black with sugar. His tea is despicable. Copious amounts of sugar as well as cream. He stutters when he's nervous and runs his fingers through his hair while staring at the ground. I don't know his favourite food, he bloody well eats anything. Now, Mrs Potter, what would you like to eat?" Stori's blindingly wide grin lightened Hermione's mood considerably.
"Something Muggle."
"Come along then, I suppose the boys are hungry as well."
Hermione bustled about the kitchen, humming while Astoria took copious notes and asked a multitude of questions. Draco and Harry were conversing quietly on the sofa, facing each other so they may watch their witches from the corner of their eyes.
"She's not crying anymore, that's good right?"
"One can never tell, Malfoy."
"She cooks?"
"You're in for a treat. Hermione's skills almost rival Molly's."
"If it tastes as good as it smells, I'm going to die a fat man."
"Oi! Potter, get the plates. Malfoy, suss out some drinks. Stori will need a glass of milk, but I'd love a glass of wine." Hermione flashed a brilliant smile over her shoulder, returning her attention to the pan on the stove.
Harry gave Draco a wink and an eager nod of encouragement as he got to his feet. He skirted around Hermione to pull down plates and glasses, trying to snatch a bit of chicken, which earned him a smack on the hands.
"Aww, NeeNee, mine, no you." Harry pouted, imitating his godson.
Draco observed their interactions with a twinge of jealousy. Harry and Hermione had an easy banter, filled with laughter and affection. He wondered if Hermione and he would ever come close to that sort of relationship. Draco chanced a glance at Stori to find a wry smile pasted on her face.
"You get used to it. They lived in a tent in the middle of the woods during the war. Ron had left them and they comforted each other. Not the way Slytherins would comfort each other, they were simply friends. Took me a long time to believe they'd never so much as snogged. If you watch them long enough, you learn it's more of a sibling relationship than anything. Harry lived in a closet and never had a sibling. Hermione lived with two parents who were overjoyed when she went to Hogwarts and encouraged to spend her holidays there as well. They connect on a different level." Stori murmured, her hand covering Draco's in an uncustomary show of affection.
They settled around the small table Hermione had dragged from Draco's study while she served up the Muggle fare.
"Stori requested Muggle food, Harry. She took notes and asked a ridiculous amount of questions so if you're lucky, she'll be able to recreate it."
"Or, if I like it, you'll just make it for me whenever I wish because you love me and I'm pregnant." Stori grinned, her mouth watering.
"What'd you make Meo?" Harry had adopted Astoria's singsong nickname in order to avoid calling her Mione. He didn't want to be on the wrong end of Hermione's wand.
"You'll see in a minute Harry!" Hermione whipped his bum with the tea towel before placing the large bowl on the table. She snickered as Draco and Stori glanced first at each other, then the bowl of unfamiliar piping hot food before shrugging.
"My grandmum was a wonderful woman. She loved me. I miss her, so much. She used to make this for me whenever my parents would send me to her house. Sometimes we'd bake cookies, muffins and even cakes but at the end of the day, we'd make this."
"That's lovely, Meo-Mio, what the fuck is it?" Stori banged her fork on the table, her stomach growling loudly. Harry covered his mouth to hide his snorts of laughter.
"It's macaroni and cheese, in a lovely béchamel sauce with bacon crumbles. There's also beer battered chicken and buttermilk rolls. Stori adores her carbs so I went all out. I can't remember the last time I actually had someone to cook for." Hermione smiled, as she scurried from the kitchen to the table, passing out chicken breasts and fresh rolls.
"I don't know what a carb is and I don't bloody care. Harry, I want a divorce, I'm marrying Hermione." Stori groaned in pleasure, her toes curling in satisfaction as the warm gooey concoction danced on her tastebuds.
"Sweet Salazar, Granger. This is bloody fantastic. I saw her first, you can't have her Stori." Draco sliced his chicken and mixed it with his heaping plate of macaroni and cheese. Hermione swore his eyes rolled back in his head from delight.
"I've had your grandmum's mac and cheese, this taste nothing like it. What did you do?" Harry questioned between mouthfuls, ignoring the frown from his wife.
"Harry, you know she made it from a box." Hermione blushed, still uncomfortable with compliments regardless of whether they were warranted.
"You made this from scratch?"
"Well, that's the best way to make it. It doesn't take that long. Same with the rolls." Hermione sliced into her roll and buttered it with her head down.
"Malfoy, you're a lucky man."
"Can't have her Potter. She's mine. Teach Stori how to cook."
"I'm right here! I can cook!"
"Not like this you can't. I've had your chicken. Though, it didn't resemble a chicken so much as a rock, but you tried. I ate it." Draco shrugged, helping himself to more macaroni and cheese.
"I grew up with house elves! There wasn't a reason to learn how to cook. My parents expected me to marry a rich pureblood wizard and continue having house elves. Instead, I married Harry Potter whose best friend is Hermione Granger so Merlin forbid we have an actual house elf to cook for us, so I don't bloody kill us all!" Stori shrieked, pounding her tiny hand on the table.
"Dink would teach you to cook if I asked him."
"I'll teach you Stori. I actually learned a lot from the telly. There's a channel specifically for cooking."
"I'm sorry I shouted." Stori sniffed while shoving bits of a roll in her mouth.
"They hurt your feelings because they're men and didn't know any better."
"Hey!"
"Oh shut up and eat."
"Granger, I never really had a favourite food, until now." Draco winked across the table from Hermione, waiting for the tell tale sign of her embarrassment. He wasn't disappointed.