I
May 1997
Draco cursed the whole way up to the Quidditch pitch, solely because the incline from the grounds to the pitch was even steeper than the one from the grounds to the castle. It was a defensively smart decision to put the castle on a hill, Draco supposed, but it wouldn't matter. The Death Eaters were supposed to enter through the cabinet to infiltrate Hogwarts from the inside - effectively reducing the need for the hill.
Maybe he could fix the cabinet and somehow it would wind up by the entrance of Hogwarts grounds - then, the Death Eaters would have to walk up to the castle, and by the time they reached it, they would hypothetically be too tired to do much damage. Though, he wasn't entirely sure how in shape some of these Death Eaters were - he imagined there wasn't a lot to do in Azkaban other than some mild exercising and descending into insanity.
Sneaking past the other spectators until he found an unoccupied stand, he scanned his surroundings for a hint of Granger's riotous curls. They were by far the easiest way to locate the witch, thanks to her height and the standard school uniform that was always up to regulation. Merlin forbid that Granger would wear a skirt an inch shorter than the rules require.
Draco constantly thought of that image. The moment they were out of Hogwarts, he was going to shrink her uniform and slyly convince her to try it on.
He shook his head to think of something else. He didn't need to be horny as hell watching the Gryffindor Pee-Wee team practice.
He didn't need to be watching the team practice anyway, but hell, he hadn't been to a Quidditch match in ages and he fucking missed it, sue him. And they were… decent, he grudgingly admitted to himself.
They were all laughing uproariously, and the female Weasley seemed to be in higher spirits than the rest of them, with her imitations and the jokes she was cracking.
Pre-Hermione, there wasn't anything in the world that could convince him to watch the Gryffindor team practice, but there was a first for everything. At least the season was almost over, so if he and Granger ever did go public, she couldn't drag him along with her to cheer for them. Thoughts like that - about going public, something he'd only do in dreams, both the pleasant and nightmare variety (don't ask) - made him sad, so he forced himself to push them out of his mind and concentrate on finding her or laughing when Girl-Weasley kicked a Bludger to her brother, the aggressive ball smacking him satisfyingly in the back of his head.
Draco stuck around a little longer to watch Weaselbee - unsuccessfully - chase after his sister, shouting obscenities at her while Potter tried helplessly to blow his whistle and stop them.
As Draco didn't see Granger, he saw no reason to stay until the end of practice - that would be asking for someone to confront him. With a groan, he stood up from his seat, eyeing the distance to the castle and knowing he would have to walk all the way without having proper time to catch his breath. Maybe he should start jogging around the Black Lake in the mornings like Cormac McLaggen always claimed. Or ignore his task and start using the Room of Requirement as a home gym.
It seemed practice had ended by the time he descended from his stand, and he was forced to slip around the edges of the pitch and pray he wasn't noticed.
Unsurprisingly, he was.
"Oi, Malfoy, what're you doing here?" He heard Weasley call from a few paces away. He came to a halt crossing his arms and faced them.
"Are you here to spy for Slytherin?"
Draco let out a scoff. "I thought you both would know your schedule by now - you're facing Ravenclaw in a few days, not Slytherin. And I'm too good at espionage to have the two of you catch me if I truly were spying."
Potter and Weasley glanced at each other. "Alright then," Weasley broke the silence, "are you spying for Ravenclaw?"
"Now why would I do that? Ravenclaws are much smarter than you think - they'd bribe some Gryffindor or Hufflepuff firstie to spy for them, they don't have much loyalty to the team yet at that age and it's less suspicious than a Slytherin skulking about."
Potter scratched his head and frowned. Maybe that level of detail was too much for him, the boy was known for having cheated death, sure, but also for being oblivious to everything unless it came up and bit him on the nose. "Then what are you doing here? Still looking for Hermione?"
Draco shrugged in response, not wanting to give them an answer but also not having an excuse ready. Gods, he was losing his touch.
The Chosen One peered closer at Draco as if he were a specimen in a zoo. "What do you need 'Mione for?"
"Stay away from her," Weasley growled before he could answer, and Draco raised a surprised answer.
"You sound rather jealous, Weasley, I thought you were with Brown?"
"I'm not jealous." Weasley took a step forward, hands clenched and looking the epitome of jealousy.
"Calm down, Ron, there's nothing to be jealous of. It's not like Hermione would like a Death Eater," Potter spat, and this time, it was Draco's hands that clenched into fists. He saw Potter note the movement and forced himself to relax. "Why have you been looking for Hermione?"
Draco ignored that, instead turning to Weasley and giving him a smug look, hoping that the jealous redhead would be able to change the conversation.
"And what if Granger did fancy me? What if we started dating? What if we got married and had lots and lots of blonde- and curly-haired children? What if-"
"Stop, stop, stop," Weasley growled, his hands flying to cover his ears and his face turning an ugly shade of puce. The conversation was hitting a little too close to home for Draco, having imagined what his children would look like - would they have the signature Malfoy hair? Or would they have untameable ringlets and dark chocolate eyes? His sly personality or her fiery one?
Plus, he knew whatever Weasley would say would have been something he'd already mulled about, something he'd been considering whenever he saw Granger and briefly wondered if he should just dump her so she could live a better life free from him. But then she'd see the look in his eyes and know what he was thinking, and she'd snog the hell out of him or press herself into his arms and make him hold her for an hour or two, and the thoughts would disappear until they parted ways.
"She'd never like you, you're too evil for the likes of her," Weasley retorted, and Draco raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
"That's all you have? Because you believe I'm too evil?" He let his smirk turn feral.
"Cut the crap, Malfoy," Potter butted in, "why the fuck do you need to know where Hermione is?" He really was like a dog with a bone, good gods, Draco wanted to slap him silly for not learning to let things go once in a while.
"She stole my notes," he blurted, and all three of them were stunned for a beat. "Erm, she stole them when I left my seat in the library a few days ago. I've been trying to hunt her down ever since."
Potter glanced at Ron and they both turned to Draco suspiciously, the similar expression on both their faces almost eerie. "She… stole your notes," Potter said slowly, "Hermione Granger. The one who once 'accidentally' spilled ink on Dean Thomas' homework because I was copying it for class the next day instead of working on it the day it was assigned." Draco opened his mouth to respond, sticking with his story no matter how dumb and unlikely it was, but it seemed the raven-haired boy wasn't done yet.
"And then," looking rather put-out for an incident that happened months ago - Granger had already told him this story - Potter added, "as she tried to syphon the ink off the parchment, 'accidentally' Vanished all the words on both assignments. Dean and I had to stay up all night trying to write that paper all over again."
"Yes," Draco said slowly, "that's her. Granger. She stole them."
Either he was getting worse at lying or, more likely, the story was so ridiculously stupid he had given up trying to bluff his way through this encounter.
Weasley was staring at him through narrowed eyes. "Why would Hermione want your notes?"
Draco shrugged. "I assume it's because she must have missed something important from class the other day. Remember? In Transfiguration, you and Brown were having a… rather heated row. Trouble in paradise?" Draco raised a brow, and Weasley flushed.
"We broke up," he said, and then shook his head, remembering who he was talking to. "That's not important, how did Hermione miss something because of a conversation between Lavender and I?"
"Maybe she was interested to see if you were going to be available soon," Draco mused aloud, sounding as if it was a possibility but knowing Granger couldn't care less about their relationship.
She was distracted because he had been sending her tiny notes with his filthy thoughts scribbled all over the parchment.
"You think so?" It seemed that in his hope, Weasley forgot he was asking Draco - Hermione's boyfriend, though the redheaded buffoon didn't know - if she liked him.
Draco snorted to hide his anger. "Are you in primary school again? Asking friends if she likes you?" He asked viciously.
"Alright, Ron, we'll talk about that later but now's not the time," Potter cut in, having more sense than usual. Draco hoped the topic concerning his best friend's feelings would be enough to dissuade Potter from Draco's dealings.
"You're convinced Hermione stole your notes?"
"Yes, I'm sure, I saw her do it."
"Where were you at the time of the theft?" Unfortunately, Potter would probably make a decent Auror.
"I was in the library. I left them on the table and got up to get a book. When I returned, I saw her steal my notes and dash off," he narrated, wanting them to hurry up the interrogation so he could find Granger and tell her about this strange encounter.
"Right," Potter said, unconvinced. Weasley looked as if he were still contemplating the possibility of getting together with Granger.
Fat chance, Draco thought.
"But I really do need those Charms notes," he was only half paying attention to what he said, but paled as he noticed Potter straighten, a glint in his eyes. Though it could have just been a flash of the sun's reflection in the owlish glasses.
"I thought you said it was your Transfiguration notes?"
"I did say that, but she stole all my notes. They were together, all in a roll. It's easier to cart them around when I have time to sit down and do work. Listen, if you aren't going to tell me where Granger is, find. I've got places to be and other places to look." Draco walked quickly to get away from their questions before he gave away something else.
"Like the Room of Requirement?" Potter called to his retreating back, but Draco just walked faster. He missed lunch for this and was walking away with a heavy target on his back and no new information.
II
March 1997
Draco had to cast several Cooling Charms around him before making his way to the library so he wouldn't sweat through his shirt.
He had heard rumours spiralling throughout the castle, had heard what allegedly happened to Weasley, and he was waiting for the fallout. For Potter or Granger to raze Hogwarts to the ground to find him. Potter would look for him, Draco thought, because he had been suspicious of Draco all year. After the debacle with the necklace, the whispered conversation between him and Snape during Slughorn's Christmas party - Granger told him later that Potter had heard most of it - and the general antagonising Draco had done on Potter the past five years, he expected to be the first accused by Potter.
Granger, on the other hand, knew what he was and that someone may die, and from there she could put the pieces together and come after him.
That meant it was only a matter of time before one of them came sniffing around the library, and he was just a dead man walking.
The first sign that she had entered the library was that the nearby students' chatter was snuffed out all at once. He stole a peek through a shelf and noticed the table of very annoying Gryffindors was still making all sorts of noise, as their mouths were moving and Madam Pince's shadow was growing by the second.
The second sign was the way his heart pounded harder and louder while the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. He wasn't sure if that was from fear or his crush on her, but the details mattered not.
The final sign was when she appeared in the mouth of their section, fists on her hips and wand tucked into her right hand.
Draco wasn't sure how to address the situation - if he should pretend he had no clue what happened or apologise. "Granger," he croaked when it looked like she was just going to stare blankly at him all day, "isn't it a little early in the morning for you to be here? It's our lunch hour, I know you were looking forward to the mashed potatoes that you missed yesterday-"
"Do I want to know who that bottle of poisoned mead was meant for?" She said, and he hid his shudder.
"Er, no?" Her question wasn't fair - she hadn't intoned whether she wanted the truth or not.
Granger let out a sigh through her nose, shoulders slumping when she ran out of air. She stepped closer, sitting in the furthest seat from him.
He fought to hide the disappointment on his face when he noticed just how far she sat, and what it meant.
Draco rested his elbows on the table, leaning towards her with panic bubbling in his throat, "Listen, Granger, I honestly didn't mean for it to wind up in Weasley's goblet, I swear-"
She held up her hand. "I know that. He's not the one you're after, and neither is Slughorn. It's just- I'm so angry, Draco, and there's not much I can do about it, which makes me even angrier. He's my friend, and he was fucking poisoned! Thank Merlin Harry had the sense to find a bezoar - though he only had that idea thanks to his textbook, which is another thing I'm angry about-"
Draco cleared his throat to stop her rant. Once she focused on Potter's Potions textbook, she'd never quit grousing about it until she was exhausted.
"There's nothing I can do about it either, Granger, and despite my burning hatred of Weasley, it's not like I wanted him to wind up poisoned! I have no other choice, and this was just a way to make it easier that ended up backfiring. I'm sorry."
"Tell that to Ron," she hissed. "You have choices, I've told you this time and time again, you can talk to Dumbledore, he'll help you-" Draco leaned back in his chair at the name, at the sickness in his gut that appeared every time he thought of the old wizard he'd have to- have to-
"-and the Order can try to keep your parents safe, too, so-"
"Granger-"
"No, Draco." Her firm tone made them both straighten hurriedly. "I don't know how many more times I can make excuses for you."
Draco frowned. "You're making excuses for me? To Potter? I can handle him-"
"To myself. I'm trying to let this be your choice but every instinct is telling me to step in and make it for you. I know what's best and I want it done, it's how I've always operated. It doesn't make me any friends, and that's fine," she said, not sounding very fine at all, "but for some damn reason, I keep convincing myself it's best for everyone if I let you make this decision." She set her wand down on the table, its point still facing him, and she stared at him, making every heightened emotion in her eyes very clear. "I can't keep doing this. Even for you."
He let the finality of her statement sink in, closed his eyes, and thought back to the day before when Granger sat as close as she dared and Draco wasn't (as) afraid to take her hand without fear of a hex or flinch. When they still had the calm peace before the storm.
"Well, we had a good what, five months of peace? I knew we wouldn't last, but this was faster than I thought," he choked out a false laugh, gathering his things haphazardly and cramming them into his bag. Better get out now, better let… whatever was between them crash and sink than try to fix it and only get hurt in the long run.
He ignored the soft voice in the back of his mind that informed him in a dry tone he was taking what was known as the coward's way out.
He bared his teeth at the thought, banishing the voice that sounded like Hermione and refusing to glance at the witch.
"I don't- I'm not sure what you're talking about," she said, her tone morphing from confused to angry within a single breath, "but don't you dare leave this library, we're not done talking."
"Maybe you're not, but I am," he said tightly, whatever he hadn't managed to stuff into his satchel gathered into his arms. His tie was still on the table, he noticed, but he left it in his rush, preferring to lose points from Snape instead of spending another second with her.
Maybe this will help him get over his crush.
"Draco Malfoy!"
As he bolted through the shelves, he rebounded against the shield she spelled to block the exit.
Draco whirled on her, eyes narrowed, trying to recall where his wand was, until he noticed it on the table beside Hermione's. Fuck, had he really left it there?
From the way she was smirking, he suspected she nicked it when he was packing everything else.
"Let me out, Granger," he said darkly, his tone promising danger.
"Not until we finish talking about this," she insisted.
"You can't make me talk."
She shrugged. "Well, apparently I can make you listen." Another smirk that put his bones on edge, his muscles clenching as he fought the urge to bolt.
"What else do you fucking want?" Draco shouted, suddenly feeling tired on top of every other emotion warring within him. "You already said you can't keep doing "this" so what else do you want from me? I have nothing else left to give!"
"I want you to be safe! I want my family and friends to be safe. I want you to make the right decision without me forcing it on you! But I don't know what to do anymore."
"I'm sorry, but I can't help you."
"You're not even trying, Draco. It's not me I want you to help, I want you to help yourself." She crossed her arms, looking like she was either hugging herself or trying to hold everything in. Or maybe a bit of both, because that was certainly what he would do if his arms were free. "All my life, I've gone by the logical perspective. Even if people disagreed, if it made sense, I would do it. And yet, with you, something is stopping me."
"I didn't jinx you or anything if that's what you're suggesting," he said sarcastically, taking an instinctual step towards her when she threw a hurt look his way.
"No, that's not- I know what the cause is, but that's beside the point," Hermione cleared her throat, "this is the second person this year to be close to death because of something you've done. I really need you, Draco." Draco battled the want that rose in him from her statement when she continued like she hadn't said anything of impact. "I need you to be safe just as much as I need that for everyone else I care about. And I doubt anyone would be safe if you go through with whatever your Master wants."
Draco… Draco had no response. Stubborn pride and fear were what was stopping him from doing everything she asked. In a normal situation, he'd follow every instruction or whim she had, but he didn't know why he was still going down this path of destruction when they both knew it would destroy him and everything he cared for. Starting with her.
"I want to, but I don't," he tried to explain. "I want to do it, trust me, Granger, I want to do what you think is the right thing, but something is stopping me, and I can't explain it. My gut instinct says-"
She snorted viciously. "You mean your coward's instinct."
He took a deep breath, trying to piece together his thoughts without blowing up at her again. "I'm horrified that others are being hurt by my actions. Just, please, give me some time to figure out what's stopping me."
He wasn't sure where to go now. When she sat back down at the table with a heavy sigh, she looked like she could use some space. Honestly, both of them could use it, so he summoned his wand and left, heading towards the dungeons where he could pen a letter to his Mother.
Draco avoided the library for the next few days. He studiously attended all his classes, avoiding looking at the Gryffindors whenever they were in the same room, and dutifully took careful notes.
He found Granger sitting in their spot almost a week after their fight, giving her a sheepish grin and several rolls of parchment as he waited patiently for permission to sit beside her.
"What's this?" She asked quietly, glancing through the first few pages and frowning in confusion.
"Notes. From the classes Slytherins and Gryffindors have. And a few for the classes you have without me, I managed to bribe a few other sixth years out of their notes with some help from a First Year."
"Thanks, but I don't need the notes," Hermione said slowly, and Draco grinned even as he halfheartedly rolled his eyes at her.
"They're not for you, Granger, don't get a big head on me," he teased, trying to break the tension between them, "they're for Weasley. Since he's missing classes thanks to me, I took the best notes possible. The rest comes from a Hufflepuff, so they may be adequate at best."
Draco suspected even the acceptable notes from that Hufflepuff was better than any Weasley could ever wish to write. He hoped she understood how hard it was to refrain from making wisecracks at Weasley's expense.
Hermione thumbed through a few more, flicking a glance up at him now and then, and then let out a groan.
"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly.
"I just accepted the fact that I was furious with you and would continue to be until we were old and grey, but you had to do something sweet like this and ruin it," she grumbled, shaking his notes in her fist.
"Er, sorry?" He said quietly, and she gave him a long look before pushing his chair towards him with a foot.
"I hope you are," was all the response he would get, it seemed, so he cautiously took his seat.
"I am. About both our fight and the poisoned mead. I feel guilty - I was expecting it to go somewhere else, not for Slughorn to pass it around to students."
"You should have seen it coming," she grumbled, and he threw up his hands, muttering under his breath. "You've seen the Slug Club when you crashed the Christmas party - you know he likes to collect things."
"We can't all be as brilliant as you, Granger," he said, his tone snide despite the compliment.
"How do I know you aren't lying? That you truly are sorry?"
"I'd never lie to you," he responded immediately, viciously, physically recoiling from the thought.
Another long look from the brunette, and then a firm nod.
"Thank you," she said and then clarified when he shot her a look, "for the notes. And the apology. Even though part of that apology belongs to someone else."
"Don't push your luck, Granger," he said distractedly, trying to figure out how to send the cauldron cakes he'd ordered to Weasley's bedside without anyone knowing it was him.
She stood suddenly, gathering her things. "Relax, I'm not still angry with you," she chuckled at his expression. "I'm off to deliver these notes to Ron before the hospital wing closes to visitors. I'll see you later, then?"
Hermione left without waiting for a response, and he could only nod dumbly to an aisle empty of everything but books.
Draco was just returning from dinner when he heard a pack of fourth-years whispering to each other. He was prepared to pass by them when he caught a snippet of their conversation, hearing a few familiar names tossed out without context.
In an instant, he was pressed up against a wall, a Disillusionment Charm travelling from his head to his toes as he eavesdropped without shame.
"Poor Lavender's so upset," one of them simpered, and another one giggled.
"What's upsetting her this time?"
"Ron Weasley - you know, her boyfriend - he's in the hospital wing, and he's been asking for Hermione Granger."
The group made a collective "ooh" sound before dissolving into giggles again.
"Do you think he and Hermione are going to date instead?"
"It certainly doesn't sound good for Lavender, no matter what it means," the first one said, leading the group away from Draco.
He didn't like the anger that was pulsing in his chest, nor did he approve of the way it was making his throat close up. There was a sharp pain in his hands, and he belatedly realised he'd been clenching them so hard the nails had bitten into his skin.
This feeling was new to him, and he didn't like it. Draco didn't fully understand what was happening, but he steeled himself, shoving the unfortunate thoughts the group's whispers had brought into his mind as he stalked to the library.
Once in the alcove more familiar than his dorm room - maybe more than his bedroom back at the Manor, comfort-wise - he warded the entrance to refuse entry to everyone, despite its typical disuse from everyone except him and Granger.
Draco massaged his chest with a pensive frown, jealousy crackling along his spine. He trusted that if Weasley and Hermione did choose to get together, Hermione would straight-up tell him, but the jealousy and pain still made him want to hide away.
And Granger wouldn't want to date Weasley, sure, she had a crush on him earlier in the year, but that dissolved the longer he dated Brown, right?
Right?
He forced himself to take several deep breaths as black spots dotted his vision.
Don't be ridiculous, he chided himself, what an overreaction. Granger was right to call you dramatic every other day.
Fuck, thinking about her hurt. Even more than when he missed her during their fight. At least when they were fighting, he wasn't having to face the fact that his crush was definitely one-sided. And once she began to see someone else-
"Draco?"
Of course she could get through his numerous wards.
"Oh, hey, Granger," he said weakly, pretending to write something on his homework, even though he hadn't inked his quill yet.
"There's- there's no ink on your quill. You aren't writing anything." Her voice crept closer, and he straightened his back.
"Right," he said dumbly. There was a heavy silence as she waited for him to say more and he waited for… whatever was weighing on his chest to vanish now that she was here.
If anything, it grew heavier.
Damn these feelings.
"Is… is everything alright? I thought we cleared the air."
"We did, we're all good." He should at least try to sound normal.
"What's wrong?"
"How's Weasley?" His voice was at least sounding less strangled, and though he set down his quill, he still couldn't bring himself to see her just yet.
"He's fine," she said dismissively, and suddenly Draco could feel the heat of her against his back. "Are you still upset because of what happened to him?"
"Just a little guilty," Draco admitted at least one thing he was feeling, "but for the most part, I'm fine."
Hermione sat down heavily next to him. "I don't know what's weirder, that you told me something you were feeling, or that you're acting so strange."
"It's nothing, Granger, don't worry," he said, because she wouldn't believe him if he said, "I'm fine" again.
"Can you at least look at me?"
He tried, he really did, but all he could do was lift his face. If he looked at her, at the whiskey-coloured eyes that had soft golden flecks in them, he wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth.
Drool, perhaps.
"Listen, I just need some time to myself."
"O-kay? Why?"
"Don't trouble yourself over the inner workings of a Malfoy," he tried to laugh it off, returning to his untouched homework.
"Draco, tell me what's on your mind, or so help me-"
"It's okay if you do get together with him, Granger," he said conversationally, like the topic didn't make him want to rip out his heart, "I promise we'll still be friends, it's just that- there's, there are some feelings on my end, for you, of course, but I'm sure it'll blow over soon, no big deal," the lies falling off his tongue easily, even though they tasted revolting as he said them. She looked blown away by his confession, and he tried to swallow past a concerningly dry mouth.
She was quiet as he tried to regain enough dignity or courage or whatever nonsense was making him confess, but just as he went to continue letting his enormous crush on her out with another round of word vomit, she cut him off with a whispered, "no big deal? They'll go away soon?" He hesitated before he had the strength to nod slowly, shakily, and still, he couldn't look at her. "Remember, Draco, you swore you'd never lie to me. That you couldn't lie to me."
Another pause where he stuffed his shaking hands into his trouser pockets, barking out a dry laugh. "I guess I can lie to you, though I can't hide it very well. But don't- don't worry, or feel uncomfortable, I just need some time on my own for a bit, but after that don't get all awkward with me, okay Granger? Because I don't know how I can stand it if we weren't- weren't friends, and around each other all the time."
Draco didn't have anything left to say, it felt like all his organs had been scooped out until he was empty and then wrung out, and when it seemed like Granger would not fill the stretch of silence that was growing, he turned to leave, dropping his wards with a flick of his wand.
Just as he took his first step away from her, ready to give her space and find some of his own, she crashed into his back, almost sending them to the floor had he not staggered his step forward and caught himself on a bookshelf. He turned around, staring at her chin until she practically wrestled his face up to hers, her fingers flexing against his jaw as he gaped at the tears pooling in her eyes.
"Granger, you're crying-" he started before she could say anything, "I'm sorry, I-" She put a hand over his mouth, and he fought the instinct to get out of the hold by licking her palm. When they would study together and he'd keep interrupting her - for the fun of it, of course - she'd slap her palm over his mouth, and he'd lick her hand with a grin while she dissolved into shrieks and giggles. Now, he could sense the timing and the mood wasn't right for that response, and from the dimming in her eyes, it seemed she felt it too.
"You idiot," Hermione said through a soft sob, and Draco quashed the urge to open his arms and let her fall into them, "I'm in love with you, I want to be with you."
His heart - and brain - stopped for a total of five seconds, and then his arms were around her and her head was nestling in the crook of his shoulder and neck, and he was breathing in the scent of her.
"This is a dream," he couldn't help but say, and felt her shake against him, felt the soft kiss she brushed on his chest.
"I'm having a hard time believing this is real, too," she admitted, and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.
They were there for a while, hidden in the shadows of their spot and holding each other tightly as if everything would dissolve the moment they let go. But they eventually stepped back, fingers threaded together, and Draco dug through his pocket with his free hand.
"I don't really know what is going to happen, but I need you to be safe, Granger," he told her carefully, and she nodded. "Here. Take this."
Hermione cocked her head at the familiar mirror he held out to her. "You're giving this to me? But I thought-"
Draco shrugged sheepishly. "When you gifted it to me, you said to give the other half to someone I trust, one who would come immediately and would save my life. The only person I wanted to have the other half, the only person I trust the most, was you. There just was never the right moment to hand it over."
She squeezed his hands, a soft smile on her lips. "I'll be there. The moment you need me. I won't ever let this mirror leave my person," she promised.
"There isn't a moment that will pass where I don't need you." He blushed at the thought that slipped out. "And I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. This is a two-way mirror, Hermione, I need you to swear to me you'll use the mirror if you are ever in trouble. I'll be there, too." The witch looked down at the ornate mirror she held in her hand, the reflection of her eyes flashing across the surface.
"I will. I swear it. We'll protect each other."
Draco tugged the hand he was holding up to his face, pressing a kiss across her knuckles.
"Love you, Granger." He leaned closer, and she smiled sultrily at him as she lifted on her toes until their mouths were barely brushing.
"Love you, too."
Their kiss, their first kiss that Draco resolutely swore would be followed by a lifetime of snogging, made him feel joy like he'd never felt before, the echo of happiness tingling all the way to his toes. He swore to himself as he pressed closer to the witch who had his whole heart in her hands that he would do whatever he could to make her happy, because if her heart breaks, so would his.
No, he'd make sure she had the lifetime of joy and peace that she deserves. One that hopefully would let him be by her side, loving her until the end of his days.
a/n: tbh I really love how they get together in this one. I like to think Draco matured - he's able to tell Hermione "I'd be happy for you if Ron was who made you happy, but I need some time to get over you" instead of just flying off into a rage. I just hope I'm doing both of their characters justice - one of my biggest concerns as I wrote this fic was that Hermione was out of character. I don't really want to categorize her in this one, so I did my very best to keep her in tune with her true self, but it was hard to find a good reason for her to not tell on him. She does what she thinks is best for the people she loves, but if she thinks telling Dumbledore what's best, I don't know how I can force this variation of Hermione to keep Draco's secret.
Do you think she feels out of character or just right?
Next update: 7/10
- Meg
