Hi all,

Thank you all so much for such amazing comments and reactions on the last chapter. I love seeing all your thoughts and feelings! And yes, to answer a question I believe I received, Pansy is definitely a bad ass. I love her. Anyways, I hope your weekend was lovely. Here is chapter Twenty Three. There's some brewing here...Let me know what you think.

Happy Reading!

Best,

E

PS: I really love correlating music to what I write, so I wanted to say that I was really influenced by Kodaline's All I Want for this chapter! Listen along as you read. You might enjoy it...

Draco's night had been less than pleasant, despite how well it had started off. Granger had looked absolutely ravishing in the gown that Pansy had suggested. The more that Draco got to see the world through the eyes of Hermione Granger, the more he found himself liking the witch. And appreciating her beauty, even in its most disheveled states.

He had left the Manor in the wee hours of the morning, Flooing home to his own flat. While Draco had high hopes that Pansy could talk to Granger, witch to witch, Draco also knew that the damage that Hermione had suffered to her psyche may be irreversible. He hoped that she did not hate him. But that's all he had.

Hope.

Arriving home, he had performed his necessary routine for preparing for bed. Changing out of his dress robes, he draped them across his valet stand,knowing that one of the Malfoy house elves would launder and return the items to his closet. He slipped on his pajamas, crawled between the fine silk sheets that he slept on each night, and turned off the overhead light. Sleep took him easily.

He awoke the next morning to a loud clanging noise in his living room, alerting him that his flat's Floo had been activated. Quickly shoving the comforter off himself, Draco searched for his wand and located it on his nightstand. With his wand in hand, the young Malfoy heir headed for the main living space. What greeted him was something unexpected.

"Hermione?" Draco questioned, noticing the very sloppily dressed witch standing next to his fireplace. The Gryffindor was shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly, trying to gather the courage for whatever her business was visiting him. Draco prayed it was a reconciliation between them, but he did not know.

"I woke you up, didn't I? I'm so sorry. I can come back later." Hermione spoke, her words seeming nervous and jumbled, a strange occurrence for such a woman. She turned to leave, and Draco stepped to stop her, his free hand catching hers.

Hermione instantly felt the warmth within his touch, the strange feeling of tingles shooting through her veins at an unnatural speed. Draco spoke, urging her not to go.

"You don't need to leave. We need to talk." Draco argued, and Hermione turned back around, catching the blonde's concerned gaze. His hand, much larger than her own, was still clutching hers.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione prepared herself for a very difficult conversation. Adjusting her shoulders, and removing Draco's hand from her own, Hermione spoke her piece as best she could.

"I overheard Millicent Bulstrode and some of her friends saying some very…unpleasant things about me in the ladies lounge when I went to freshen up. I got overwhelmed with the emotions that their words caused, so I ran away. I took my frustration and anger out on you, and for that I am very sorry. I know I said some awful things to you, when none of this was your fault." Hermione was nearly out of breath when she finished her spiel, and Draco was staring at her with a look that the young witch could not fully decipher.

Finally, he spoke.

"Hermione, I know what happened. Pansy witnessed the whole thing, and told me what happened after you ran off. I cannot apologize enough for what you've experienced. But I need you to know that what Millicent said is wrong." Draco stepped away from the fireplace, and sat down in his leather wingback chair. Hermione followed him, taking a seat on the velvet sofa across from him.

"It's not your fault, Draco. Whatever Millicent and her little gang said was of their own volition. I don't blame you." Hermione tried to reassure the youngest Malfoy that the occurrences of the night before had nothing to do with him.

"I know it's not my fault, Granger, but it feels like it is. Everytime you enter that place, something happens to you. Traumatic things. I can't take seeing you hurt." Draco confessed, looking away. Hermione felt something tug at her heartstrings, seeing Draco so concerned for her wellbeing. She could see the pain etched in his angular face.

"That place is your ancestral home, Draco. And yes, it holds some terrible memories. But not all homes are perfect." Hermione tried to reason with the blonde, reminding him that not everything could be a picture of excellence.

"That place hasn't felt like home in years." Draco mumbled.

He thought back to his childhood, of zooming through the extensive gardens on his favorite toy broom. Watching the enchanted stars that were painted on his bedroom ceiling twinkle each night as he fell asleep, his mother singing him French lullabies. Christmases of wonderful grandeur, filled with all the presents and cheer that one child could imagine. It was paradise.

Happiness.

Something that Draco found harder and harder to keep.

"It may not feel like home anymore, I understand. But that doesn't mean that we can't make our own home." Hermione offered her fiance a warm smile, and the young witch saw something change in Draco's sullen demeanor. His eyes lightened.

"You still want to marry me? Even after what happened last night?" Draco asked, trying to keep from sounding too eager at the news. He thought for sure that Hermione was going to take a lot more convincing.

"Of course I am still going to marry you, Draco. What happened last night is a bunch of jealous, immature young women gossiping in a ladies lounge. Yes, they said some terrible things, and there will probably be more people like them in the future. But that doesn't warrant me not marrying you." Hermione reassured him. Draco felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders.

"Oh thank bloody hell." Draco slouched back into his chair in a dramatic fashion, causing Hermione to laugh. Noticing that the air around them seemed lighter, the Gryffindor decided to do something that would change the course of her and Draco's relationship forever.

"Draco?" Hermione asked quietly, now that the tension in the room seemed to have dissipated.

"Yeah Granger?" Draco asked, leaning forward to match her gaze. Hermione took a deep breath, the words she was about to ask rattling around in her brain.

"Can you kiss me?"

The room was quiet.

Hermione waited patiently, while Draco gave her a look of total shock. It seemed like forever, the ticks of the clock above Draco's fireplace reminding her of each harrowing second that passed. Finally, she tried to redact her offer.

"Its fine, I just thought it might-"

His lips were on hers. Warm, yet callused hands went to cup her face. Draco's lips were like velvet, matching hers as he tenderly stroked her cheek with his index finger. It wasn't rough or intense. It was calm and subtle, sultry. He tasted like coffee and spearmint.

Draco didn't know what had come over him. He was kissing Hermione Granger. And she was kissing her back.

She wasn't timid, nor was she hurried. Her lips tasted of honey, and her skin was smooth, smelling fragrantly of lavender.

They took their time.

Slowly that matching of lips turned to the clashing of tongues. It wasn't a battle for dominance, but a dance.

Hermione's hands drifted to Draco's shirtless torso, tracing the marring lines of his Sectumsempra scars. She could feel the rapidness of his heartbeat, and knew that hers matched. One of his hands drifted from her cheek to grip the back of her neck, gently holding her in place.

Draco felt the sparks that traveled through his veins, their heat searing. He wondered if she felt them too. He didn't know if it was the bond, or if it was the attraction that he was realizing that he had developed, but it was illuminating.

They kissed for what seemed like infinity, their lips and hands exploring one another in different ways. Hermione tugged at Draco's hair, whose texture was like the fine ribbons of cornsilk. Draco's hands wandered Hermione's body, taking in every curve that he could feel through the wool of her peacoat.

When the need for breath finally overtook them both, they pulled away. Hermione held a look of absolute bafflement, but Draco couldn't help but sport a signature smirk.

Draco Malfoy had kissed Hermione Granger, and it had been absolutely incredible.

"Damn, Granger. We should definitely do that more often."

Hermione had to keep herself from popping the blonde male sitting across from her. But he had been right. The kiss had been electrifying. She knew that their magical bond had something to do with the chemistry that she and Draco felt, but there was also a tingling sensation in her stomach. A feeling that she liked. A lot.

"That was definitely a lot more intense than I was expecting." Hermione admitted. Draco gave her a smug smile. He knew that the kiss had had the same effect on her that it had on him.

"We just kissed for the first time, Granger. Intense was to be expected." Draco shrugged. Hermione nodded.

"Maybe we should practice…just to be sure." Hermione suggested, a bit shocked by how bold she was being. But after last night, she needed Draco to understand something.

She was all in. Tapestry or no. There was something about Draco Malfoy that ignited a fire in her. And she desperately did not want to extinguish the flames.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, wanting to make sure that Hermione was actually comfortable with her decision. As much as he had appreciated their previous actions, he wanted to make sure that what was happening was consensual, and not fueled by some magical influence.

"I'm sure." Hermione answered. With her permission granted, Draco once again pressed his lips to hers.

They stayed like that for a while.

—00000—

Hermione had once again blown off Sunday brunch at The Burrow. She hated that she was being so inconsiderate to Mrs. Weasley, and the rest of her extended family, but she needed a break from social events. And apparently, hanging out in Draco Malfoy's flat was her newest Sunday morning activity.

After another very mesmerizing kiss, Draco had insisted that it was time for them to start their day. He had changed out of his pajamas and into a very well tailored pair of charcoal slacks, and one of his old Slytherin Quidditch jumpers. Hermione wondered if someday, maybe, she could convince the aristocratic young man to wear a pair of Muggle denims. It was probably never going to happen, but a witch could dream.

As he had done previously, Draco had cooked up a delicious breakfast. Belgian waffles drizzled with honey, topped with a medley of fresh berries and homemade clotted cream. If his looks and wealth weren't of enough of a selling point to begin with, his cooking skills certainly were. They had eaten breakfast at the humorously large dining room of Draco's flat, with small talk ranging from different potion ingredients to Hogwarts history facts.

It was surprisingly relaxing, being in Draco's presence. It was like underneath the cold and hard exterior, he was actually a decent human. Funny and well spoken, he was an easy conversationalist. For the first time in a while, Hermione wasn't bored. Instead, she was quite entertained.

So there they sat, each reading a section of The Daily Prophet. There had been a short summary of their engagement ball, all of which had been tastefully written. The article had described Hermione as 'a vision in periwinkle, a most certainly beautiful bride-to-be'. Draco had been given high accolades for his sporting of modern wizarding dress, quoted as 'daringly handsome, effortlessly stylish.' Hermione had teased him, of course.

Hermione's attention was now focusing on the business section of the paper. Her eyes drifted across an article mentioning how the DMLE had more recruits for various positions than ever, Hermione's hiring group being the largest since before the Second Wizarding War. Probably because people were finally trusting the Ministry again, now that Kingsley was in charge, and corruption no longer ran rampant.

Draco was draped across his chair, his long limbs arranged in a way that Hermione had no idea how it was comfortable. He was immersed in the daily Quidditch reports, his silver eyes traveling the page. When his gaze shifted further, he muttered a curse under his breath.

"What's wrong with the stats? Something not to your liking?" Hermione questioned, curious to see what had warranted such a reaction from her fiance.

"Your Weasley chaser is going to cost me a pretty Galleon this season if my Falmouth Falcons can't beat her. Bloody hell." Draco shut the paper, the pages rustling as he placed it on his intricately carved coffee table. Hermione smiled.

"Are the predictions not in your favor?" She teased, and Draco gave her an annoyed glance. The witch knew that Draco had a good living invested in his various teams, but it was still fun to tease him. Especially about Ginny, who was hellbent on annoying the living shit out of Draco if she could.

"I think you know the answer to that, Granger." Draco smirked.

"Well, as much as you don't like Ginny, you're going to have to tolerate her. She's my best female friend, and even more importantly to our current situation, she is going to be my maid of honor. So suck it up, Malfoy." Hermione gave him a steely glare. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Poor Theodore. Going to have to escort that nightmare down the aisle." Draco mused, Hermione unimpressed by his attempt at humor.

"Theodore's going to be your best man, I assume?" Hermione asked, and Draco nodded. The guy, as annoying as he was, was his longest friend and best mate rolled into one. While the prat drove him to insanity and back with his quirks, there was no one else Draco would want by his side on one of the biggest days of his life.

"That he is. I'll probably regret that decision in the long run, but he'd kill me if I asked Blaise instead." Draco answered, and Hermione could very clearly picture an angered Theo going after the youngest Malfoy, wand drawn, while the rest of their Slytherin comrades watched on in amusement.

"Blaise can be another one of your groomsmen." Hermione suggested.

"If I can get both of them to stay still long enough, I will." Draco laughed, knowing good and well there was no possible way that his mates could take something so seriously without some sort of jest.

"We should probably start discussing wedding details, shouldn't we?" Hermione asked, realizing that they needed to still select a date. The sooner that they were wed, the sooner that the giant storm cloud hanging over their heads would dissipate.

"I assumed my mother would be responsible for most of the planning. Unless you would like to be a more active member of the project?" Draco questioned, and Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

"A girl only gets married once. I would like input about the ceremony, if Narcissa doesn't mind sharing the reigns. I know she most likely knows more about traditional wizarding weddings than I do, especially binding ceremonies."

"That is true." Draco recalled the many weddings that his mother had assisted Pureblooded brides plan before the war. So many memories of sneaking wedding cake samples from the dining room back to his chambers, praying to Merlin he would not get caught by the houseleves. Or worse, his mother.

"I'm leaning towards more of a winter wedding than an autumn. I've always loved snow." Hermione loved the feeling of winter and all its magic. The holidays at Hogwarts had always been her favorite as a child.

"Christmas has always been my favorite." Draco replied, thinking of all the memories that the holiday held for him, before the darkness and death took over. He had always loved the smell of fresh pine and the twinkle of candles decorating the tree.

"Should we do a Christmas wedding then?" Hermione proposed. Draco gave her a nod, confirming that he liked the idea as well.

"Christmas Eve sounds perfect."

"Hopefully your mother understands that I want a small affair. I understand why our engagement ball was so large, but I want a more secluded ceremony. Do you think she'll go for that?" Hermione asked, and Draco looked like he was doubtful.

"My mother loves large gatherings, with no expense spared. This event is her opus, so we'll have to see. She might budge a bit on lowering the guest capacity. You'll just have to speak to her."

Hermione couldn't help but daydream about a beautiful, snow-fueled wedding.

"You know what I just realized?" Hermione asked, causing Draco to look at her expectantly.

"If we have a Christmas wedding, we can use both of our house colors coordinately. Red and gold, green and silver. A perfect holiday combination." Hermione laughed, and Draco realized that the witch was right. It was a genius solution, if not a bit tacky.

"I would love to see you try and convince my mother to dress the Manor with red and gold. Silver and green have hung in the hallways of Malfoy Manor for longer than we've been alive."

"Well, we're just going to have to change that, now aren't we?" Hermione teased.

Draco returned her jab with an annoyed groan, rolling his molten eyes. They sat in silence for a few moments, letting the feeling in the room return to a more serious note, before Draco addressed Hermione.

"I wanted to tell you something, by the way. To thank you, really." Draco awkwardly adjusted himself in his leather wingback, and Hermione gave him a concerned glance.

"And what would you be thanking me for?" Hermione wondered.

"For not giving up on me, and this relationship, especially after last night." Draco admitted.

"I think I should be telling you the same thing." Hermione responded.

"Truce?" Draco suggested, extending his pale hand in a sign of agreement. Hermione placed her own in his, shaking it gently.

"Truce."

While their relationship was not perfect, it was getting better, slowly but surely. And Hermione was definitely sure about one unyielding fact.

Draco Malfoy kissed like a fucking god. And he was all hers.

Maybe that tapestry wasn't such a bad thing after all.