A/N: Wow, I'm being productive today so I'm actually updating my stories *whoop whoop*. I want to start this chapter by giving a bit of a teaser of what's to come. Three words, take them as you will: hex, kiss, (unexpected) entrance... Yeah, yeah that's actually four but what can I say? I'm a rule-breaker ;) Anyways: onto the story- enjoy!
As the night had drawn on and both Hermione and Draco had grown sleepy due to flickering fire in the hearth casting a golden glow over the two comrades and their home-cooked stew still settling into their stomachs, Draco nudged Hermione's legs which were resting on his lap. The curly-haired witch mutters something at the first nudge but only turns to face Draco after a firm poke on the arch of her foot.
"What?" she moans, irritably. Draco smothers his smirk knowing it will only bait the witch further.
"I need to move, Granger." he says instead, shoving the mismatched stockinged feet to the ground definitively. He knew that he could- and most likely would've-fallen asleep on the couch in front of the fire but after his troubled nightmares which left him screaming and crying out for someone long gone, he didn't want Granger to witness the after-effects of such worrisome events. Which was why, during the five days of radio silence after their second day in solitary, he had cast strong silencing spells around the perimeter of whichever bed he'd rest on. It was dangerous, not only because he was more vulnerable for attack when surrounded by a Muffliato charm, but also because if anyone came for Hermione, the two-way spell would prevent him from waking up and coming to her aid. Avoiding sleep was a foolish idea as he'd heard somewhere that eleven whole days without sleep could kill a person and despite Draco Malfoy being many things; foolish was not one of them.
Suddenly a loud clanging reverberates throughout the house. Hermione startles upright, frightful whether they were under attack again. The doorbell unnerved Draco as well, that Hermione could work out by the rigidity of his jaw. As the echoes fade and the paralysing fear which froze the pair wears off, they slowly relax their stances and stand up, debating what to do. Hermione's wand was clutched in her hand and Draco also collected his own from the coffee table in front of them.
"What should we do?" Hermione whispers, her large amber eyes , doe-like in apprehension. A fist pounds one. Twice. Three times on the large entryway doors. Hermione tugs down on the borrowed Quidditch shirt she had borrowed and chews her lip in worry. "Should we hide?" she whispers.
The door is blasted open all of a sudden and the wards Draco had put up start screeching, blaring out warnings and protective charms defending them both against the intruder. Draco transfigures a nearby chair into and iron-tipped baseball bat while Hermione draws closer to his side. The mad voice inside her head which has dulled during the past few days flares back to life urging her to smash tables and chairs and sing atop the destruction. Smothering the unnecessary voice, she steps closer to the door; wand out and pointed in case of attack. Mustering up her Gryffindor courage, the young witch shoves open the parlour door to check just who is battling the spells set up in the entryway lobby. At first all she sees is a masculine figure, speckled with dust from blowing apart the door and then she makes out the familiar mop of scruffy black hair and flashing emerald green eyes.
"Harry!?" she exclaims in absolute shock. Harry, having finished off the last boggart, spins to face the one person he has been yearning to see ever since that fateful day of the final battle.
"Hermione?"he gapes, rushing to meet her. Just before he reaches the object of his affections another figure intervenes and a cold voice drawls, "Back off Potter." Harry Potter slows to a halt, eyeing the blonde Slytherin warily, trying to suss out the current situation.
"Draco." Hermione warns, glaring up at the scowling boy in front of her. Since when does she call him Draco? Harry wonders, rather bitterly, to himself.
"How do we know he's actually Potter?" Draco spits out, distrustfully. "Have you considered he might be a trick- someone from the Death Eaters polyjuiced to look like him? Have you not forgotten what happened just the other night?" Hermione quietens at this, her bright eyes shadowing slightly in memory. Harry can't help but wonder what happened. He hates seeing enthusiastic, sweet Hermione looking so glum and melancholy.
"So test me." Harry persists, looking searchingly at his friend. When Hermione keeps her eyes lowered and mouth shut, Draco pipes up; "Maybe you should just leave. After all it's the least you could do after breaking down my door, charging in here like the arrogant prick you are." At least this provokes some response from the young witch who places a hand on Draco's arm and reprimands him with a soft but firm: "Don't."
Draco looks down at the brunette, taking in his dishevelled Quidditch top, rolled up tracksuit bottoms and the odd socks she's dug out after pranking the Malfoy heir over eating 'Peasant food' and his gaze visibly softens. "I don't trust him." he states, matter-of-factly.
"No, duh." she replies, smiling a little at the unexpected protectiveness of her newfound friend. She turns back to Harry, who's been watching their exchange with a slight frown, and asks "What was Ron trying to do to his (not-really) rat Scabbers the first time I met you on the Hogwarts train?" Harry, never breaking her gaze responds: "He was trying to turn him yellow but it failed and you remarked that it wasn't a very good spell at all." She nods affirmation to this and only then does she step forwards to hug her best friend whom she'd assumed was dead. Harry relaxes when he feels her soft warm body pressed against his and he sighs resignedly when she releases him a few moments later.
"But what happened?" Hermione questions, "What happened to everyone? I thought you must be dead!" Her tone is somber and Draco- despite despising having the boy-who-would-not-die standing in his house- knew they should move this discussion away from the lobby, so he ushers the reminiscing pair into the parlour, giving them a few minutes alone while he fixes the door.
"I was dead," Harry confesses. Hermione gasps, shocked by the admission. "But I kind of came back to life and uh saw Dumbledore who helped me and, um, well it's kind of confusing to myself if I'm honest." Draco re-enters the parlour magicking up some tea and china cups and seating himself besides Hermione on the settee. Harry, seeing the no-nonsense expression decorating Draco's features, takes a hesitant seat adjacent to the pair on a plush, pitch-black velvet armchair. He then begins his tale: from seeing Snape's memories; his true allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix and the ex-potions-masters unexpected love for his mother Lily, to Neville slaying Nagini in battle, to the duelling with Voldemort and the limbo-world of King's Cross Station to the final destruction of Lord Voldemort. During it all Draco and Hermione listen attentively, both relieved at the final death of Voldemort but each having growing concerns over what had happened since then.
"The Aurors- Kingsley Shacklebolt and the rest- are currently rounding up known Death Eaters and sending them to Azkaban for their sins." Hermione longs to talk to Draco and ask him one vital question but understands how he will not answer in front of Harry so instead she spins to Draco fully and dropping her mind-barriers she had set up when learning Occlumency on the run with Harry and Ron. Draco, catching her Amber-eyed inquisitive look, catches her intention and then reads the question her mind is supplying. He shakes his head then, with a meaningful look explains;
My parents are as good as dead. There is no way for them to be sent to Azkaban as everyone else assumes them dead.
Assumes?
A pained look flits across his aristocratic features for half a second, so brief it could've been imagined.
Hermione, your past hold secrets that I do not pry into. Please leave mine alone respectfully.
Ashamed of her nosiness, Hermione lowers her gaze breaking the connection.
"I'm sorry." she whispers. Draco nods and the flicker of….Something is seen by Hermione in his eyes again.
Don't be sorry, the past is not yours to change. Only the future we can make a difference in.
Huh, that's rather poetic. I never knew you were an optimist.
I'm not. Draco smirks, gestures vaguely to the tea set. But I felt gallows humour goes better with coffee than tea.
Hermione laughs, amused at the cynical statement and Draco's smirk widens at the melodic sound. Someone clears their throat and they both realise that they have completely forgotten about the other person inhabiting the room. A certain someone who now looks rather angry at their silent exchange and is put out by the Slytherin bully being so… cosy towards his girl. Of course if Hermione had heard that thought, Harry was sure Madame Pomfrey would be aiding a broken nose and even worse, a broken ego, but luckily Hermione was no legilimens. What the Boy-Who-lived had forgotten, however, was that Draco Malfoy was a skilled mind reader and hence he felt the burning sparks of a stinging hex brush against his forearm. Draco subtly conceals his wand and grins wolfishly at the yelp of pain Harry emits. "Ow!"
Draco drops the spell as the black-haired idol hops around the room and he already knows what is coming next- "What the hell!?" Hermione exclaimed. "Did you just fire a stinging hex at Harry?" she accuses, righteousness burning in those fiery eyes.
"And if I did?" Draco taunts, voice indifferent at Potty Potter's pain.
Harry whips out his wand and Draco stands, both squaring up against each other.
"You should apologise." Hermione demands to the sneering blond, her voice rich in authority. Draco merely raises one elegant eyebrow at her, which only seems to make Harry angrier.
"He was not being very gentlemanly, Angel." Draco replies, voice smooth with condescension. Harry widens his eyes at the inference of Draco being a legilimens then narrows them when hearing the pet name for Hermione.
"It's not very gentlemanly to invade other's thoughts without permission." Hermione points out logically. Draco rolls her eyes, resisting the childish urge to pout.
"Why the hell were you with this guy to start with Hermione?" Harry mutters spitefully, "Everybody knows he's just a cowardly Death Eater who's always acted as a spoilt brat at school and seems just as much as an arsehole as he ever was." This hits a nerve with Draco and Hermione knows that the 'coward' part had made his bristles rise in indignation. Harry, being oblivious and too het up to really pay notice to care, blithely blathers on- "Honestly I'm surprised he and his parents aren't dea-"
"Stupify!" Draco hisses between clenched teeth. Hermione tries to summon a shield charm and although the brunt of the spell is deflected a small part of it lands and Harry falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Draco tenses up, a spitball of emotions and anger coiling around in his gut, urging him to do more damage.
"Draco…" Hermione starts, tentatively. His stormy eyes lock on hers and the turmoil she sees there steals her breath with wonder. His breath is coming out in short shallow pants and his clenched fists drip blood from where the nails have dug in too hard. She approaches him determinedly and cups his chin down so their gaze is not broken.
"He didn't pay heed as to what he was saying. He didn't really mean what he said about your parents."Hermione comforts. The anger dissipates which each exhale and finally Draco is in enough control to sigh wearily and rake an impatient hand through his long darkened blonde hair.
"Yes he did, Hermione. The only side he got to see of my parents was the one they needed to show. Not enough people bother to look beneath the surface anymore and as much as I hate them for it, I understand it." he trails a finger across her jaw and has a brief, fleeting thought of what the fuck he was doing stroking someone he might've considered a 'mudblood' six days earlier. Instead of seeing her blood status, however, all he sees are the amber irises which stare deep inside him as if seeing his soul and not judging him for it. He sees the fierce Gryffindor Princess and the strange and funny character buried under her love of books and knowledge.
"Hermione?" he whispers, eyes dropping to her cupid bow lips. "Yes?" she utters, ensnared by his riveting gaze and the closeness of his body.
"I have a dark and twisted soul." he warns, "There are things I have done and witnessed- unforgivable, horrible things. I have more secrets than galleons and I cannot sleep at night due to the nightmares which pursue me." he confesses, gaze searching for something- something in those honey-brown orbs which will offer him redemption from the sins he has committed. Hermione does not looks scared or surprised by his admission of guilt. After considering how after Harry is re-awakened and she is embroiled back into the Weasley residency she may never see Draco again, she decides to confide in the blonde-haired ally, just this once. "The truth is Draco, you don't scare me. I have also seen and committed terrible acts. My father was an alcoholic who loved to take out his aggression out on my mother, Caroline, the most wonderful and lovely woman I ever knew-" a tear slips free from her eye "- I have been tortured both mentally and physically and sometimes-" her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper "-I swear I'm going crazy. So Draco, you may have personal demons but as do I."
Their gaze strengthens and twists, turning into something full of need and desperation. Both are trying to find salvation and sweet relief by the other. And in a millisecond of a moment, Draco acts on his impulse and presses his lips to hers…
The sensation is electric and terrifying. At first Hermione stiffens at the feel of his soft lips against hers but as he moves them against hers she melts against him, revelling the heat intertwined in his embrace. Her hands snake up to feel inside his silky hair and he places his hands on her waist, adjusting his lips more resolutely against hers. The kiss deepens when Hermione runs her tongue over his lower lip, silently requesting entrance. He opens his mouth and the heady rush of emotions they feel when their tongues touch instigates a moan from Hermione which is quickly swallowed by her counterpart.
She tastes of firewhisky and vanilla and tears.
He tastes of bonfire smoke, coffee and something inextricably darker and sweeter with a- she massages her tongue with his, fighting for dominance and seeking assurance in the hot cavern of his mouth- fruity undertone. The kiss is broken by an unfamiliar voice- not Harry, as he is still stunned on the floor- exclaiming: "What the fuck!?"