Aftermath

"You've just told me how these meetings are just a nice little way to enjoy yourself, a little bit of escapism for you, out of an awful day in the life of being Hermione fucking perfect Granger."

Hermione felt like he had slapped her. All the frustration she held poised on the tip of her tongue, froze.

No no no no, not like that. Not escapism.

She hadn't been using him, had she? What they were doing had barely scraped the surface of anything emotionally investing: all flirty letters and silly, harmless conversations. She needed it and he enjoyed it. He kept coming back, didn't he?

She hadn't used him. She was not the type of person to use somebody else.

Was she?

"As long as I can provide the right level of banter of course," he drawled with a half-hearted sneer, the words lacking any of his previous bite. "Well, sorry I ruined it today, and wasn't the nice little distraction you needed."

Even as he turned away Hermione knew she did not have the will or ability channel her racing thoughts into a defence.

"You need to leave us the fuck alone, we're better off without you," Malfoy stated with bitterness.

He was about to leave, but he couldn't leave things like this. Things hurtling towards a result that she found she absolutely didn't want: distance, the end. Before it had even begun.

His back hunched, his raised shoulders: sudden defeat without her having said another word; total abandonment of the Draco Malfoy dirty fighting tactics before he had even got into his stride. Why wasn't he sneering anymore? What was wrong with him?

Later, Hermione would remember this moment and know the answer to the question that at the time she had been behaving far too irrationally to properly consider. It was accompanied by a memory of Harry, sitting in the garden, warning her to move slowly with Malfoy.

It would hit Hermione, far harder than when she had carelessly brought it up before their row, just what the impact was of her discounting his depression and of assuming he was a willing participate in their game. Come to think of it, she hadn't even assumed, as that implied a conscious decision: instead, she hadn't even thought that he might not be as up for a flirtation as she was. She wavered between believing herself self-centred over her negligence, and a self-defensive alarm at Draco's intensity and his inability to just treat things like a stupid, fun little game – despite how things turned out later.

What was wrong with him? Too much, probably. And she knew this, and knew that her own judgement was questionable, as evidenced by recent events at the school. The cost of being involved with Draco should have been greater than she would be prepared to pay – there had been a reason she had initiated this letter-writing-flirting routine in the first place, and Hermione knew that was why his accusation hit home so hard.

And yet, despite herself, here she was with the luxury of all the time in the world: caught in confused spirals of thought over Draco, unable to regret what she had done, what she hoped they would do.

However, in that moment in the Apparition Room, Hermione did not have the luxury of time, she had only a split second, and the only motivation she felt was a scrambling desperation to correct how badly she had pushed things awry, to convince Draco that he was mistaken about her intentions, to show him that he was worth so much more than what he seemed to expect.

"I'll believe that when you stop acting like such a victim." She grasped for his arm, dragged him back around, dragged him down, squeezed her eyes shut and kissed him.

But Draco wrenched his lips away immediately and she like she had lurched off a step she hadn't even realised was there. In that split second a crescendo of panic built as she hung in suspense, gazing into his eyes, feeling more and more as if the step was a cliff and instead of hanging, she was falling - knowing that she had spectacularly misfired and he would probably reject her because she had been such a bitch –before he swooped back down and kissed her back.

His lips crushed into hers, scorching, echoing the heat of his anger and her frustration so forcefully they punctured what little lingered of her doubt. Stubble grated her chin, their noses clashed and a sharp gasp of breath filled her with his smoky, earthy smell. Hermione's back arched as he pressed down and she brought her hands, shaking with the aftershock of their argument, up to his chest to push back.

Though she gripped on to his robes when it seemed Draco took the push as an instruction to break away.

"Please." She breathed the word out as Draco's lips left hers. Her eyes snapped open and for a moment they stood face to face, close enough to breath each other's panted air.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but Draco shook his head minutely, closed his eyes, leant down and kissed her again.

And this time, in her heart, Hermione felt the shock of her action overtaken by a giddy, adrenaline-heightened elation: a thrill echoed in Draco's pulse under her hands splayed on his chest.

She was immersed in the feel of it, in the feel of him: the shape of his lips, chapped, full and tense against hers as they kissed again and again, the gentle graze of his tongue brushing along her lips, the moan that skirted the edge of his gasp as she opened her mouth. His tongue slid into her and her body sank into his arms, boneless against the stability of his body, so at odds with the softness of his mouth, hot and wet, and tasting deliciously of peppermint and cardamon.

Soon a dance began, their tempo accelerating as they found a rhythm, their hands frantic, desperate to feel and hold, scraping across their bodies, his hands on her waist, pulling her harder against him, dragging up her back to knot into her hair, the vertical muscles along his spine taut like two cords of rope beneath her palms, his thumbs stroking the skin behind her ears, so gently, the hardness she could feel sandwiched between them, a heart-thrilling contrast, impossible to ignore as it pressed into her stomach, drawing molten heat downwards-

The bell rang. A shrieking alarm.

Hermione jerked back. She collided with the wall. She brought a hand to her head, confused over how they had reached the side of the room and found her hair wild and escaped from its clip.

Draco was panting, his chest rising and falling, his lips deliciously red, his eyes unfocused as if he was drunk. Hermione smiled at him, her lips tingling as they stretched. Draco glanced at her mouth and Hermione brought her fingers up, finding wetness, his saliva. She licked it, tasting him. Draco watched her, eyelids dropping, the impression of intoxication increasing.

"Do you have any idea what that's doing to me?" he murmured, a hoarseness to his voice sending a frisson of pleasure leaping through Hermione. She tilted her face up to him and he bent down and kissed her again.

She knew they did not have time, and he knew it too. He kissed her gently, his lips were soft as they enveloped hers. They opened their mouths simultaneously, Hermione felt the heat of his breath –

The sound of footsteps slapping across floorboards reached them from the other room. Draco jolted and pulled away, the vibration of his groan on her tongue.

They stood for a moment in silence, watching each other, the school awakening around them, distant shouts, thuds, the scrapes of hundreds of chairs and hurried footsteps of children desperate to get home. Hermione shut her eyes, wishing they were somewhere else. That she was someone else.

Gentle fingers brushed across her forehead, stroking strands of hair from her face. She opened her eyes.

"Turn around," Draco smiled.

Hermione obeyed and felt him unfasten the clip and attempt to tease her hair back into obedience.

"Good luck," she said.

"Nonsense," he breathed, his fingers brushing up the nape of her neck, gathering her unruly curls.

Hermione's head sagged a little into his touch. "You're right about your toothpaste," she said without thinking on a deep exhale. His fingers paused. Hermione couldn't breath back in, as she fought not to roll her head back into his hands.

A shout in the Floo Room broke the spell. Draco quickly twisted her hair into something Hermione was apprehensive to label without a mirror and fastened the clip.

They resumed watching each other. Hermione realised Draco was waiting for her to speak. But she had no words. His kiss had driven them from her. Though a dribble of thoughts were beginning to return. He wanted to know what had just happened. But she what could she tell him? It seemed to me at the time, via a clearly rational though process, to be the only way to get you to stay.

She glanced at the floor, noticing the normally scuffed black leather of Draco's shoes was polished, knowing she had to say something. They had just kissed. She had kissed him, a father of a student at her school, a man she thought she still wanted to employ as a teacher, a man who had too many issues to count, while she had a growing list of her own with a massive new one to add. She took a deep breath and –

"What are you doing this afternoon?" Draco said.

She let the breath out, relieved he had broken the silence. "Just work," she shrugged, catching his eye with a bad attempt at an easy smile.

Draco glanced at the door to the Floo Room again where the noise of the student exodus was growing louder. "Come out with us," he said, looking back at her.

Hermione's blinked. "What?"

"Come out with us," Draco repeated, and she could hear a slight strain to his voice that she didn't think she normally would have noticed. He stepped back, bringing a hand up to rake back his hair from where it had fallen over his forehead. The gesture looked odd on him. Like something he had borrowed off Harry.

Hermione shook her head and found her hands awkwardly bunching at the air. "I can't," she said, dropping them to her side. She had a meeting, marking, planning, liaising. She struggled for words, completely thrown, adrift without her usual wits, desperate to have them back. "I have too much on. I can't, I'm sorry."

"Scorp is going to be going mad tonight, cooped up in the flat, with the Quidditch trial tomorrow." Draco seemed determined to ignore her, his words coming fast. "You have no idea how much he wants to make the team. I was going to take him out anyway, distract him, tire him out so he won't still be up at midnight with nerves."

Hermione nodded, glancing at the clock for somewhere else to look. It was four minutes past four. She didn't know what to do with the knowledge. The silence between them grew louder than the ruckus next door. "It would be –" Draco said, sidestepping into her field of vision. Hermione blinked.

He attempted what he clearly hoped was a confident smile, but it was ruined by how far they both knew he was sticking his neck out. "I would like it if you came too." He shrugged, rubbed the back of his neck and the smile turned into a grimace.

"I can't. I - " But wasn't this what she wanted? For him to stand there and demand more for himself? She felt a sudden need to reassure him.

"We'll just go down the road," he said. "Nowhere special."

"Down the road?" Hermione shook her head. "Do you even know what's down the road?"

He grinned, opening his hands to the ceiling. "Muggles? Doing Muggle things? It'll be fun."

Hermione snorted and bit her lip. Draco's eyes flashed down to watch. Hermione felt her resolve weaken. "I don't have time, Malfoy," she said, but of course as had become automatic when that obstacle arouse, Time-Turning arrangements were already forming before she could stop them. Just an hour. She could get away with adding an hour. No one would know.

It would mean they could put off the inevitable conversation about what had happened. Despite their row, despite what Draco had revealed about himself, perhaps this did not need to end in something serious. And maybe Draco hoped for that too, Hermione thought as she watched his grin grow triumphant, almost as if he could tell which way her decision was heading. Perhaps he was having the very same thoughts as her.

He leant an elbow against the mantle of the fireplace. "Aren't you supposed to be the Headmistress?" he drawled. "What's the point of it all when you can't just slope off whenever you want?" He glanced down at his hand, as if inspecting a non-existent hangnail, as if bored by the conversation.

Hermione rolled her eyes but a bubble of excitement was working its way her chest and she had to suppress a smile. Draco still wanted to have fun. They could still make stupid comments and jokes and everything didn't need to become serious and heartfelt. She was so relieved she felt suddenly skittish: that despite the depths his mood had just swung, he could still be like this.

She could go out with him into Muggle London, not because she felt she had to prove something to either of them, but because actually, in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to hear more comments like that, to see more bored, lazy smiles like the one presently lighting up his face. To feel Malfoy's hands and lips on her sooner than - when? Tomorrow if she hadn't totally screwed things up and he was still up for continuing their routine...

"And you'll have to call me Draco when you're with Scorp. He'll find it strange otherwise."

"Won't he find it strange if I'm there regardless?"

Draco's smile faltered. But before he could speak there was a loud thud and the door swung open, the knob hitting the wall with a bang. Hermione jumped, although a quick glance down at herself revealed no evidence of impropriety.

Scorpius Malfoy stood on the threshold, glaring at his father. But after a sweep of his full profile, it was only the lingering flush to Draco's lips and cheeks that looked out of the ordinary. Hopefully nothing a child would notice. Hermione licked her lips, but his taste was gone.

"Scorpius, do not throw doors open." Draco said. "You'll damage the plaster."

The boy jutted his chin out. "So? Can't you just Reparo it?"

Hermione stepped forward, realising it was probably within her jurisdiction to tell him off, but Draco drew himself up and she shut her mouth. He did not say anything, and she did not notice any change in his profile, but after a moment and quick glare in her direction, Scorpius let out a murmured apology and stomped over, holding his hand out for the Side-Along Disapparition.

But instead of taking it, Draco turned him around by the shoulders and pulled his bag off.

"Give me your robe," he demanded.

"What? What are you doing?" Scorp said.

"Come on, quickly. Robe off."

Grumbling loudly, Scorp shrugged off his robe and handed it to his father.

"We're not going home. I am, I need to drop these off and pick something up, but you're not."

Scorp's face was a picture of confusion. "What?"

Draco glanced at Hermione. "We're going out. You're going with Miss Granger to wait at the Muggle Entrance and I'm going to meet you there."

Hermione held Draco's gaze for several long seconds before she gave him a tiny nod. Draco's victorious smile was so wide it seared itself into her memory as he Disapparated.

A/N: Thank you again to Delancey654 for beta reading. I'm sorry about the wait, it was very bad timing within the story! The next chapter will be online very soon.

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