The day after they had shared the news of their relationship with Harry, Ron and Ginny, Hermione had written a letter to Molly explaining about her and Draco. She sent it off with a school owl, apprehension for her second mother's reply already laying heavy in her stomach. Every morning after, her chest would tighten as the first owl appeared, only to have her heart sink as another day passed without a reply. And every evening, when they were twined together in one of their beds and Draco had finished his carnal distractions, the worry would return. Draco did what he could to calm her, playing with her curls, telling her they would be alright, no matter what, but his efforts only helped slightly.

Hermione had almost given up on waiting for a reply when, about a week after she'd written, a little grey owl plopped down onto her breakfast plate and blinked at her with confusion. After staring for a long time, Hermione let out the breath that had gotten stuck in her throat, and reached with shaking fingers to pluck the letter from Pig's claw.

'Is it from her?' She barely contained the shriek that jumped to her tongue as someone spoke softly in her ear. She whirled around, and found Draco staring at her intently.

'Don't do that!' she hissed, smacking his bicep for scaring her. She looked around them hurriedly, and noticed that a few people were watching them with confusion. Probably struggling to comprehend a Slytherin sitting at the Gryffindor table, she thought irritably. It seemed that some things would never change.

She turned back to Draco, who had seemingly read her thoughts judging by the huge grin that was splitting his face. Then he looked more serious and indicated the letter with a tilt of his chin. 'So? What did she say?'

'I don't know,' she snapped. 'I was rudely interrupted before I got the chance to open it.' He rolled his eyes at her and made a show of pressing his lips together, waiting for her to proceed. She huffed at him, but the irritation was waning, being replaced by anxiety about the contents of the letter. Draco subtly shifted his leg to press it against hers under the table, and she took a deep breath, now grateful for the comfort of his presence.

Her fingers trembled as she peeled the envelope open, thanking every deity she could that the stationary was cream and not that notorious red. She unfolded the letter, and felt Draco lean closer ever so slightly so that he could read, too.

Hermione, dear,

Please forgive the delay of our response. Things have been, shall we say, interesting to navigate recently, and we wanted to make sure that we understood as best we could before we wrote back.

We have read your words over and over again, and it's clear to us that you are very much in love. We couldn't ask for more for you, dear. We also understand your hesitation about sharing the name of your partner with us, but we are very grateful that you did. There were so many victims of the attrocity we faced last year, and Arthur and I want to make efforts to make amends where we can. Especially for those of you who were just children, and were used as pawns in an awful, terrifying game.

Love is love, sweetheart. It has no rhyme or reason. We love you, so very much, and we wish to accept those you love along with that. Please, bring Draco with you to stay with us in the March holidays? The house is somehow going to be even more crowded than usual, I'm afraid, so some of you will be camping in the meadow. I do hope this is alright?

You keep changing the world, darling girl. One step at a time. And we're so proud to stand beside you as you do.

Love, always,

Molly and Arthur

Hermione couldn't see through her tears, and her hands were shaking so badly that she feared she would tear the precious letter in half. She needed to get out of the Great Hall, to get somewhere quiet, where she could feel everything freely-

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her from her bench and guiding her out of the Hall. She leant into the embrace and allowed it to guide her through the corridors, into the library. She was swept into a rarely-used back corner of her favourite place in the whole castle, and was carefully deposited into a large, comfortable chair. She dimly registered a flash of blonde and the feel of long fingers gently taking her letter, then twining between her own and holding tight.

Then, she broke. Her heart hurt from the strange mixture of overwhelming emotions that Molly Weasley's letter had created within her, and she cried openly, her chest burning from hard, wracking sobs. She clutched at the hands that held hers, blind to their owner as she drowned in the emotions that flooded her: anger at forces that had torn a normal childhood from them all; grief that that time was gone, would never come back, would never bring their lost ones back; relief that her choices were being understood by people whom she respected so highly and owed so much to; love, for Molly, for Arthur, for all of the Weasleys who she knew would follow their matriarch's lead, and would accept Draco into their circle.

Draco. The thought of him brought her crashing back to the present. Her vision cleared, and his face swam into view, pinched and pale with worry as he watched her silently, his grey eyes observing, absorbing. He was on his knees in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and released one of his hands to wipe at her eyes. He raised his own hand, too, and used the cuff of his jumper to dry her face before cupping her chin in his palm, his eyes asking the question that he didn't want to voice yet, in case she wasn't ready.

'I'm fine,' she said, her voice hoarse but steady. She watched him relax, the crease between his pale eyebrows smoothing out, his jaw releasing. He sat back on his heels, still holding her hand, still watching her cautiously. She squeezed his fingers, then looked around for the letter. He instantly scooped it up from beside him and passed it to her. She placed it in her lap, a small smile now tugging at her lips as she skimmed the words again. She felt him unwind even further as he took in her expression. She raised her head to look at him again, and noticed that his eyes were slightly shiny now.

'Looks like we're going camping.' The gentleness in his gaze was quickly replaced by faint horror, and she chuckled. 'Don't worry, rich boy. We'll show you how it's done.'

After this, Narcissa's response to Draco's letter confirming their relationship had seemed almost too tame.

He had written to let her know that Hermione loved him, too, and had told her about the magical healing that they had shared. The next night, Hermione had been sat in their common room, engrossed in a book, when a piece of folded parchment landed in her lap. She looked up to find Draco dropping into his chair, eyes on her, looking more guarded than she'd seen him in a long time. She took in the smooth, thin handwriting on the outside of the paper, and met his gaze again.

'Already?' She tried to push down the concern about what it could mean that her reply had come so much quicker than Molly's. He just nodded in response, his jaw tight, and waited for her to make the next move. A little apprehensively, she opened the parchment.

Draco,

Of course she returns your affections, silly boy. I would have thought that was incredibly obvious from the gift she gave you for Christmas.

Relieved, Hermione smiled to herself, now understanding where Draco got his perceptive abilities from. She read on.

I am currently in the process of packing those items in the Manor that I wish to keep, as the sale will be finalised at the end of next week. So, you will have to bring her to dinner at the house in Cumbria.

This woman has a powerful hold on you, Draco, and for the better it would seem. Please ensure that you are treating her with the respect she deserves. If you're being half the gentleman that I know you can be, then I'm sure she's well on her way to being swept off her feet. And I feel that it would be rather foolish if you let her slip away.

Write back soon, darling, and we'll arrange plans for your visit. We'll aim for the next school holidays because, of course, you shan't be leaving her alone again.

Your loving Mother

She looked up to study the way his body slouched, the way his lips pouted out slightly, the way he gazed at her sullenly from behind his fringe, and she realised that she'd misread his body language. He wasn't guarded. He was sulking.

'She's very ... succinct,' Hermione ventured, only for him to roll his eyes and sink lower into his chair in response. She bit back a giggle at his childish behaviour. 'Are you going to tell me what the problem is, or do I have to guess?'

He glowered at her, then grunted, 'Nearly 20, and she still talks to me like I'm just a boy.'

'Well, with the way you're acting, I'm not surprised,' she chastised, placing the letter on the coffee table in front of her. She got up and started to head to her bedroom, casually shooting over her shoulder, 'It's a shame, too. I was really looking forward to seeing what it would be like to be swept off my feet by a gentleman.'

'Oh, I'll show you a gentleman,' he snarled from behind her, and she heard him scramble out of his chair. She squealed and ran for her bedroom in a giddy rush, and he caught her just inside the doorway. He pulled her flush to his body, his mouth on her neck, his hands roaming her torso, his erection pressed against her arse. She tipped her head back against him and reached up to clutch at his hair.

'I did like that she told you to not let me go,' she sighed as his hand slipped inside her shirt. The words he growled against her ear in response made her heart flutter.

'As though I needed anyone to tell me that.'

Over the last week of January, Draco and Hermione's relationship somehow became common knowledge around Hogwarts. Hermione wasn't sure if someone had seen them holding hands at the last Hogsmeade weekend, or if it had been his supporting her after she received her letter, but however it happened, it seemed that now everyone knew.

Most people were, understandably, surprised by the news, and Hermione moved between classes and their common room as quickly as possible, scowling as people now stared at her more openly than they had when she was just 'The Golden Girl'. Professor McGonagall had taken to surveying her shrewdly every time they crossed paths, as though she was trying to assess whether the girl had been bewitched. Hermione tried her best to smile reassuringly at her, hoping to waylay any concerns or reservations the Head Mistress may have.

Draco took it all in his stride, maintaining his outward disinterest as he stalked around the halls, ignorning the whispers and glances that followed him. The only time he had reacted was when Zabini had raced towards him, whooping his congratulations for 'bagging Granger', his hand raised for a high-five and a sleazy smile on his face. The boy had been unable to use his right hand since, and Hermione had to admit to herself that she'd secretly found great delight in watching him on his knees at Draco's feet, his fingers being bent at a strange angle, yelping for mercy. Draco, his other hand still in his pocket, had carefully looked around at everyone who had witnessed it, silently conveying the message that this topic was not up for public discussion.

She had seen him sat at the Slytherin table the next day, an apologetic look on his face as Zabini pouted beside him, obviously trying to field the numerous questions that his housemates were firing at him. He'd caught her eye, the exasperation clear on his face for just a moment before he turned back to them.

Hermione had faced a similar grilling from Dean and Seamus. Ginny had sat beside her the entire time, her face set, backing Hermione up as she defended her choices. Hermione was sure that Ginny's readiness to stand by her on this had helped sway the others, and she was very grateful to the younger girl.

Neville had appeared quite prepared to accept their relationship at face value, but it was Luna's comment that really caught her by surprise.

'Well, it's not all that much of a shock, really.' Her dreamy tone didn't falter as they all stared at her, wide eyed. 'I always suspected that Malfoy was a Gean Canach. And he's been watching you for years. So it was only a matter of time before his magic took hold and you fell under his spell.' She seemed to register the silence that met her words and looked around at them all, confused. 'Gean Canach? A Faerie Lord?'

It only took a heartbeat for Dean and Seamus to scream with laughter, leaning on each other for support.

'Malfoy, a Faerie?!' Seamus wheezed, but Luna just smiled at him, clearly puzzled by the reaction.

'Alright, that's enough,' Hermione snapped at them, already flustered by Luna's implication that she had held Draco's attention for much longer than she had realised. The boys hiccuped into silence, wiping their eyes, grins still splitting their faces. Their expressions soon changed as she continued, 'While I appreciate that this might be hard for you to get your heads around, it's how things are. Draco and I are together, and if you have a problem with that then you have a problem with me, and I just don't have the time for that.'

'Jeez, 'Mi,' Dean groaned, and slung an arm round her shoulder. 'Don't be like that. We couldn't resist the chance to poke a bit of fun, but we're with you. Right, Seamus?'

'Down to the last,' he grinned, and Hermione couldn't help but smile back. She relaxed as the conversation moved onto different topics, and her eyes roaved the hall, quickly meeting his. He quirked one eyebrow at her in question, and when she nodded he smiled slightly and turned back to his Slytherin housemates.

They were careful not to change their public behaviours significantly, ensuring that they didn't touch each other or catch the other's gaze more than usual. But Hermione still felt his eyes on her as frequently as before. She found that the careful avoidance of each other now just added further heat to their evening activities, as everyone around them now seemed to be constantly anticipating public displays of affection that never arrived. She loved that they kept it private, just between them, and it led to her being much more needy for him by the time the day was over.

Every evening, by habit, they would leave the Great Hall separately after dinner, but would always end up arriving at their potrait hole at the same time. He would hold the door open for her, and she would grab his tie on her way passed him and pull him in, walking backwards so that he could seal his lips to hers as they made their way into the common room. His hands, always eager to touch her, now burned on her skin as the tension was released, and every evening she raced towards her first orgasm of the night, as though her body had been preparing for it all day.

Draco seemed equally desperate to make sure that she knew how much he wanted her. There were nights where, before they even began, he would instruct her to kneel on the floor in front of him, both of them still fully dressed, while he pulled his hard, pulsing shaft out. He would tell her how he had been wanting her all day, how hard it was to watch her from afar and not have his hand up her skirt, her tongue in his mouth, her thighs wrapped around his waist or his head.

And, after only a few strong, swift movements, he would cum over her tongue, face and chest, only taking a moment after his release before diving on her and tearing her clothes away. He spent long periods of time between her legs, kissing and nibbling at her thighs until she was almost screaming in frustration. But when he did make contact, it took her breath away. He lapped at her like a starved man, pulling moans and cries and whimpers from her with every touch. And when he came for a second time, it was always deep inside her, his hands wrapped in her curls, her name on his lips.

During the days he tried very, very to maintain his composure, which was made all the more difficult as she now seemed to be getting even more attention than before, if that were possible. The gazes that lingered on her now were more curious, more invasive, almost as though knowing that she was unavailable made her all the more desirable. He would grit his teeth and force himself to breathe slowly, fighting the impulse to punch everyone or grab her and kiss her roughly in the Great Hall, to ensure there was no doubt in anyone's mind who she belonged to. But he kept it inside, allowing his anger to burn away into passionate lust once they were finally touching again.

That was, until something happened that made it impossible for him to keep his composure. On the last day of January, he had spotted her walking towards the library, and noted that she seemed quite tense. He quickly scanned the environment for a possible cause, and his eyes narrowed as they lighted on a retreating back.

McLaggen.

No-one else was around, so he ducked into the library after her and quietly made his way to her favourite table. There she sat, surrounded by books, her face screwed up in annoyance. Her hair was practically growing from the heat of her anger, and as he approached the quill she held snapped in her fingers. She raised her hand to throw it across the room, but he caught her wrist, pressing his fingertips against her palm. She looked up sharply, eyes and expression prepared for a battle, but softened slightly when she saw who it was.

'What did he say?' He tried to keep the tension out of his tone, but she seemed to have heard it anyway as she tugged her hand away and rolled her eyes.

'I should have known you'd be around to see that,' she grumbled, looking away to start collecting her papers. He crouched down next to her so that their faces were level, reached out and grabbed her chin, turning her face to him again, trying to be gentle as he did so.

'Tell me.' He didn't hold back the tension this time, and her molten gaze surveyed him momentarily before she answered.

'He asked me if it was true.' His hand, resting against his knee, clenched into a shaking fist. She noticed, and pulled away from him with another roll of her eyes, standing and picking up a book. He stared after her as she moved into the stacks, and when she didn't return he stood and followed her. He found her walking along the back wall of the library, carefully studying the bookshelves as she passed them.

'True about what?' She gave an irritated sigh, but didn't look back at him, her eyes now scanning the shelves above her head as she walked.

'What do you think, Draco? About you and me.' She stopped, placed her book into the neat gap that it had obviously originally come from, and continued further into the stacks.

'Why did he want to know?' He tried very hard to keep control of his temper as he stalked behind her. She paused at another shelf, examining the spines in front of her.

'Well, he wanted to know if I would be free to join him for the next Hogsmeade weekend.'

'That fucker.' He could hear his own teeth grinding together in the words. She raised an eyebrow, apparently unimpressed, but still didn't look at him. 'And what did you tell him?'

'Do you really need to ask me that?'

His patience snapped. Suddenly he grabbed her hips and spun her so that she was facing him, her lower back pressed against a narrow studying table. He loomed over her, his face very close to hers, and slammed his palms against the desktop on either side of her. The bang he made reverberated around the empty library, and she slowly looked up at his face. He could see her own anger dancing in those honey and chocolate eyes.

'Don't play with me right now, Granger.' He took a deep breath and lifted one hand from the table to push it through his hair. He had to calm down, but not knowing what she had told McLaggen was causing jealousy and possessiveness to course through his blood like a poison. 'Tell me, or - '

'Or what?' She jutted her chin at him, daring him. His anger boiled again. Always bloody daring him. He blinked, and in that moment something changed.

They were instantly all over each other, pulling at clothing, teeth nipping at lips, fingers digging into skin so hard they were almost bruising. He lifted her onto the desk and stepped between her legs, pushing his arousal against her core. She whimpered, but wove her hand into his hair and pulled, hard. He snarled into her mouth as he reached between them and freed his aching member, then moved his hand to her. He could feel moisture on the fabirc of her knickers, and it erased the last of his self-control.

He pulled the gusset of her underwear to one side, lined himself up and thrust into her. She was already wet and wanting, and he slid into her hot core with ease. Her head fell back as he set up a smooth pace, ensuring he entered her to the hilt each time.

'Look me, Princess.' His tone was harsher than he'd intended, torn from him out of need. The need to claim her. The need to ward off others. The need to remind her that they belonged together. She obeyed, her gaze meeting his, her eyes still full of anger but now mixed with lust. 'I've told you before, you're mine,' he growled as he rutted against her. 'Nobody else's. If that fuckhead McLaggen thinks he can just - '

'I don't want him,' she bit out. His hands tightened on her thighs and he thrust faster.

'Then tell me what you do want.' He heard the desperation behind the hushed hardness of his tone, and saw her brow relax as she heard it, too.

'You. Only you. I'm yours.'

'Mine,' he snarled, his hips now snapping against her so hard that the table under her squeaked in protest.

'Draco,' she moaned quietly, her head tipping back against the stone behind her as she came, her walls fluttering around him.

The sensation sped him towards his own end, and he spilled hot streams of cum deep inside her, his mouth running wet kisses up her neck, punctuated with pants and groans of, 'All mine. My girl. My good girl.'