Of course the bloody NEWT's would be scheduled for my birthday," Draco grumbled to the group as he flipped through the last few pages of Hermione's insane NEWT study guide.
The girlish and un-Hermione-like giggle next to him only soured his mood further. It'd been three weeks since they'd declared their intention to bond and began planning the ceremony, but in that time little planning had happened. Instead, Hermione had lept right into cramming for their NEWT's.
Since the day after Theo had been taken to Azkaban, Pansy had been staying at the Manor. She had rightly refused to return to Hogwarts, or to her home to be judged by her family for what happened. To Draco's surprise, Pansy and Hermione became very close, very fast. They spoke in hushed whispers while studying, laughed as they read by the lake on the Manor grounds, compared beauty charm tweaks, and really, Draco thought they acted quite like sisters.
He wasn't sure how much Pansy told Hermione about what happened between her and Theo, but Draco surmised it had to be most of the truth. Every now and again, Pansy would suffer a panic attack– just as Draco had been prone to– and Hermione never failed to pull her out of it. Draco hadn't even spoken to Pansy or Hermione about what he saw when he entered Theo's mind. Truly, it was the stuff of nightmares. Draco did his best not to occlude, but when the memories of the cold, dark, sinister inner workings of Theodore Nott's mind worked their way into his, he slammed his walls down as quickly as possible.
"Draco, darling, it's just a few hours and then we will be free. Do you hear me? Free! For the first time in our lives, we will– well, we will just, be," Pansy could hardly contain herself as she spoke, leaning over Hermione to reach him.
"Silence!" A voice rang out through the corridor and Draco was reminded that he was back at Hogwarts for the day.
They sat in an alcove, crammed together on what had to be the smallest seat possible. Draco had scowled at both Pansy and Hermione when they sat and Hermione patted the seat next to her. He wanted to get the test over with. Studying for the last several weeks told Draco that he was ready for his NEWT's long before his last year at Hogwarts. Though, he supposed, that was likely because of the exceptional tutors his parents hired and additional lessons from Severus.
He really couldn't complain all that much though, could he? He had Granger– Hermione– now, and Theo was in Azkaban, for life. The NEWT's had been reduced to one comprehensive exam rather than multiple subject based tests. It was his birthday, after all, and he'd made it to nineteen.
And in a little less than two weeks, you'll bind yourself to your witch, the human embodiment of the fucking sun, forever.
"I can't fucking focus–" Draco growled, running his fingers through his hair for what he counted to be the fifth time in the last half hour.
"Alright, I think we're done here," Hermione suddenly stood, taking Draco's study materials with her. Draco glanced up at her, confusion clear in his furrowed brow and pursed lips.
"What do you mean you think we're done, Granger, you, swottiest of all swot's–"
A glare shot his way had Draco clamping his mouth shut, jaw grinding.
"I've evolved, Draco. And you should as well. Get a new insult, that one is practically a compliment. And it's Hermione you git," Hermione huffed and walked away.
Draco referred to her as Granger with affection, but she still liked to know that the intimacy, familiarity, and the trust between them was present.
"Hermione," Draco started and waited till she stopped walking, "will you give me at least two seconds to review the point at which wolfsbane is stable for stasis charm placement-"
"No, I will not. Because you already know the answer," She laughed as Draco approached. Hermione cast a tempus charm and Draco thought he might begin to sweat. Five minutes till exam time. "You'll know within the next three hours whether or not you passed. Last minute cramming does not work, Draco, you know this. Let's go," Hermione gripped his hand firmly in hers before looking back for Pansy.
"Right here, lovebirds. Continue on, I'll be just a moment," Pansy encouraged from her perch in the alcove. She looked a bit nervous, but confidence simmered just below the surface. Draco gave her an encouraging nod, and Pansy smiled back.
Draco turned to continue walking and to give Pansy the time she needed, Hermione's smaller hand still clasped in his. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the doorway.
"Ready?" Granger asked, her eyes wide, peering up at him. It struck Draco in that moment that he had never been, nor would ever be, more ready for the beginning of their life together. And that all started once they completed this bloody test.
"Never been more ready in my life," Draco smiled down at his witch, watching as a wispy curl popped free of her braid. His lips tugged up in an almost-smirk.
This is good. This will be fine.
"Draco, you're kidding me," Hermione gasped, her mouth hung open.
"Why would I joke about something so serious, Hermione? Close your mouth please, I wouldn't want you to catch flies, love," Draco looked on as she examined the results of his NEWT exam.
"You– there's no possible way. No, possible way ever, I swear on Merlin's fucking beard Draco–" Hermione glared at him, and Draco relished in the attention. He loved to watch her when she was passionate about something.
"Ah, but you see, there is. My results are in your hands, Hermione. You know I didn't fabricate them, you walked out of the test with me," Draco posited. The ability to keep a straight face was waning, she was absolutely shocked and Draco was memorising this moment.
"How in Godric Gryffindor's name did you, Draco Malfoy, score one more O than me on our NEWT's! I've been studying for years for this. You've been in a Gods be damned holding cell for the past several months– it's just not–" Hermione stopped talking at once, her eyes going wide before she looked up at him. Draco raised an aristocratic brow, pursing his lips and glaring down at her. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, Draco, I swear, I just– how?" Hermione breathed out, gnawing at her lower lip in worry.
Draco couldn't take it any longer. He doubled over, howling in laughter. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard. The situation truly was comical. Draco didn't know how he received all O 's while Hermione received O 's and one E . When he could breathe again, Draco stood and walked over to where Hermione had leant against the stone wall. Draco paid no mind to the other student's that walked by, even though many threw greetings his way. Instead he focused on Hermione and on the unreadable look in her eyes as she watched him approach.
"Hermione, you're brilliant," Draco whispered between them as he brought a hand up to cradle her face.
"I know," She nodded in return. Confusion mounted for a moment when Hermione's thoughts became his own as they had tended to do these days. He looked at her in awe for a moment when he knew she was right. He didn't need to research it, didn't need written confirmation, didn't need a historical account of a bond that had never existed until then. Instead, Draco knew in his very soul that she was right.
Draco ducked his head quickly and pressed his lips to Hermione's in a frantic kiss. Draco felt her smile before she pushed him back, slowing him down just as she had for the past three weeks. He watched the flush on her cheeks dip down below the neckline of her blouse, then trailed his eyes back up to meet hers. He watched as her pupils contracted, clearly a line of thoughts running through her brain.
Draco had only one, repeating over and over. What she had imparted to him through their bond.
I'll beat your scores in the next life, you'll see.
XXX
June 20, 1999: Malfoy Estate
"Pansy, are you certain this is right?" Hermione eyed Pansy warily from where she stood a few paces away from what looked like a large pyre, ready for a burning at the stake, so to speak.
"Yes, Granger. You may not have been around here when celebrations actually used to occur, but Midsummer, Summer Solstice, Litha, whatever you want to call it, is a big celebration Granger. A big celebration calls for a big fire. Hence, a large pyre," Pansy gestured to the monstrosity in front of them.
"Just how many people are invited, Pansy? I gave you a list of maybe twelve people, and I know Draco only included you, Blaise, and his mother," Hermione inquired, levelling Pansy with an accusatory glare.
"Hm," she hummed, finger coming up to tap her chin in thought, "I think about thirty, give or take."
Hermione audibly groaned. She didn't think she could ever come up with a list of thirty people to invite to something like this, who all was coming?
Remembering the actual purpose of the day– the celebration just a preemptive measure prior to the bonding– Hermione decided to let it be. She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.
"Alright," She replied, breath leaving her in a whoosh.
"Right, I knew you would come around," Pansy announced gleefully before wandering off to find the group of workers who had been preparing the celebration tents.
Hermione turned carefully, facing the endless land that filled the Malfoy estate. Rolling hills accompanied by a small moor, and directly in front of her, a large pond. Hermione dug her bare feet into the grass, grasping at something Draco had mentioned to her about the land being able to ground their magic, make their bond stronger. She breathed in deeply, clean, crisp air filling her lungs. It was early morning, but Hermione had been unable to sleep knowing that tomorrow, she and Draco would seal their bond. Hermione watched on, looking out over the grounds, allowing the idea to settle in her bones that this– this would be her home, soon. They hadn't told many– only Pansy, Blaise, Harry, Ginny, and Ron, that they would be completing the final ritual after Midsummer– Litha , as Draco preferred to call it– celebrations ended.
Well, and Narcissa of course.
She'd been beside herself when Hermione and Draco approached, informing her of their intention to seal the bond as soon as possible. Hermione thought she had seen Narcissa in all manner of emotion by now; devastation, contentment, anger, sadness, fear– but her face that day had been something new. Narcissa had been in awe that Hermione had so easily agreed to seal their bond, and when they informed Narcissa that it had in fact been Hermione's idea, she'd launched herself at Hermione, holding her tight and whispering against her ear in a tone Hermione could only describe as motherly, "I've always wanted a daughter, Hermione, and I'm overjoyed that dream has come true and more importantly– that it is you the Gods have chosen for me." Hermione had brushed the unshed tears from her eyes quickly, before the emotion swept her away and she lost focus.
Since the day they all completed their NEWT's and arrived back at the Manor, Hermione and Draco had a flurry of activity around them at all times it seemed. Guests arrived to assist in planning the celebration, and Hermione and Draco held several hushed discussions with Phillippe about the final ritual, ensuring that it would work. Each day brought a new rush of excitement through Hermione's body. It felt as though each nerve was alight, ready to catch fire, reaching out, seeking a source of ignition. Draco.
Of course, that fire likely had to do with the fact that since they'd made the decision to bond, Hermione and Draco had not done more than snog furiously, wind one another up to the point they each felt combustible, and engaged in some heavy petting resulting in absolutely no pleasure. The ritual, according to Hermione's research, would be powerful, but in discussion with Phillippe and consultation with the journals and Sanctissimus , they agreed that each ritual had required a period of abstinence prior to sealing a bond, which explained why the celestial bond was only temporary. Though the research indicated this period of abstinence to typically be approximately two days, Hermione and Draco's bond was unique, the first of its kind in recorded history. So they opted for the safe side of timing, and had abstained for weeks on end now. Their bond contained at least three aspects of their being. Hermione was unwilling to risk the ritual not working.
The ritual …
Hermione stared out into the sun which continued to rise as she stood, attempting to quell the rush of heated thoughts that ran through her mind. The ritual was an amalgamation of several others, including elemental, blood, and–
Hermione shook her head, unwilling to get carried away. The party would not start until more than 24 hours from now, and she needed to make it through. Just till after the guests left. Then– then they could devour one another.
Turning, Hermione let out an "Oof" as she hit a hard chest.
"Merlin, Draco!" Hermione clutched at her chest, just over her racing heart.
So that is why I couldn't stop the fire, the all consuming burn.
"Quite right, I don't even know how I ended up out here, truly," Draco's brow furrowed as he brought his hands up to clutch at Hermione's forearms. A thought struck her and she laughed.
"The bond, it's– well, I think it's quite anticipating the ritual tomorrow. I feel it too," Hermione looked up at Draco to search his eyes. A piece of hair had fallen out of place over his forehead, he wore a rumpled white t-shirt, and a pair of grey joggers. Watching Draco Malfoy embrace the more casual side of life was a pleasure Hermione would never tire of. Without thought, she worked her bottom lip between her teeth, attempting to keep from climbing him like a tree.
A groan left Draco before he released her arms and stepped back, clenching his fists and working his jaw.
"Stop, Hermione. You have got to stop doing that! I feel like I'm fifteen years old again and just watched you open a new sugar quill while you study in the library," Draco's hand ran down his face and a laugh bubbled up out of Hermione, immediately her interest was piqued.
"What!" Draco demanded, eyes peeking out over his hand.
"Sugar quills, huh?" Hermione giggled again.
"It is absolutely indecent the way that you consume an innocent sweet, Hermione. All I could picture each time I watched your tongue peek out to run up the thing was replacing it with my c–"
"DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY–"
Hermione's hand came up to cover her own mouth, attempting to stifle her laughter as Narcissa approached from the tents. Draco had nearly turned white, with red dotting just the apple of his cheeks. Hermione watched as he sputtered, coughing almost violently as he was caught of guard. Her laughter could no longer be contained and she burst with sound, doubling over.
"You had better not finish that thought, you're a grown wizard, control yourself. Nearly everyone on the estate has had to avoid the two of you for fear of the rabidity of you exude right now. Merlin, you two remind me of these muggle books I love to read, stories about insatiable beings called Alpha's and Omega's–" Hermione paled, not wanting to continue this discussion.
"I think I'll just go find Pansy now, sorry, Narcissa–"
Narcissa's tinkling laugh caught Hermione off guard and her eyes narrowed.
"The two of you must lighten up, as they say. Tomorrow will be fabulous, and from then on you will not be parted and may partake in whatever activities involving sugar quills you wish. Now, Hermione, please accompany me inside so that we may do a final fitting for your Litha gown as it must serve a dual purpose and I want to ensure it is free of lingering magic that may impact your ceremony. Draco, you may assist Pansy, your ensemble has been cleaned of residual magic," Narcissa nodded and reached toward Hermione. Hermione grasped Narcissa's hand and allowed her to lead Hermione inside.
Behind them, Hermione heard a mumble, "Going to be the death of me," from Draco, before she and Narcissa were out of earshot.
One more day, Hermione. You can survive the party planning, and the absurdity for one more day.
June 21, 1999: Malfoy Manor
Barely, Hermione had barely survived. When she awoke this morning, in her room– the room she had been staying in to eliminate any temptation of breaking their abstinence agreement– it was with fresh eyes, her heart and mind felt clearer than they had in months. She knew her purpose, what she was placed on this planet to do, and all of that began with sealing her bond to Draco– completing the ritual.
She sounded insane when Hermione told Draco how she felt, but when he echoed the same sentiment back to her, Hermione had told him instead that he sounded a bit too much like Luna for her liking, and asked if he felt alright. Draco had laughed freely and placed a soft kiss to her lips before wandering off to find Blaise.
Hermione, left to her own devices, began to prepare for the day with the schedule Narcissa had laid out for her. She was first to take a bath, as the ritual required her and Draco to each be clean before dressing in their clothing for the ritual. Her dress was simple, a beige linen with flowers and foliage, representing the solstice, inlaid. On her breast bone, a set of runes had been stitched in the same beige colour thread. Soft enough not to be noticed unless one was truly paying attention. The flowing fabric of the skirt of the dress reached the floor and lightly trailed in her wake as she walked.
Now, Hermione stood in the grass on the Manor grounds, watching as guest after guest arrived. The Weasleys, including Molly and Arthur, Percy, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and his latest beau, George and Angelina, Ron, and Harry and Ginny, had arrived first. Molly had gushed about how beautiful the decorations were, and how much she had missed true wizarding tradition. Arthur had smiled and hugged Hermione, followed by each of the other members of the family. When Harry and Ginny had reached her, they pulled her aside discretely to ask how she was feeling about the ritual. "I'm feeling wonderful, Harry," Hermione had smiled softly at him in reply.
Many arrivals had shocked Hermione, including that of Millicent Bullstrode, Adrian Pucey, and Marcus Flint. Draco had explained that each of them had tried to make their own path after the war, and Draco wanted to support that and allow them the opportunity to reenter societal events, just as he had. Hermione was well aware that Adrian was now an auror. He and Pansy had developed a sort of friendship after Theo's trial, and on numerous occasions she had overheard Pansy speaking in hushed tones into the floo, Adrian's voice returning the whispers.
As she watched people mill about, Hermione smiled at Seamus and Dean as they stood with Neville, Luna, Hannah Abbott, and shockingly– Oliver Wood. The invitations had apparently been far reaching, but Hermione did not fault Pansy. She was excited, and Hermione could understand that sentiment, very, very much.
Several new arrivals caught Hermione's attention, including Kingsley, Amelia Bones– the Chief Warlock, and McGonagall. Hermione's eyes nearly boggled out of her head at the sight. Just the knowledge that Hermione and only a few select others were aware of made her blush furiously, knowing that these formidable witches and wizards came to celebrate Midsummer and afterward would be leaving so that she could promptly consummate her bond and truly connect with her soul mate.
Her soul mate.
Hermione smiled as a strong arm snaked around her waist.
"I can't wait for you to be mine, either, Hermione. Forever," Draco whispered against her temple before dropping a chaste kiss there.
Hermione smiled and reminded herself to be patient.
You've waited this long, you can wait a bit longer.
She intertwined her fingers with Draco's banded around her and settled in for the party.
XXX
Draco blinked, watching as Hermione approached. He felt as if time were moving slowly, like the hourglass he'd once seen in the Headmistress' office, the sand falling as if it moved through sludge, slowly drifting to the bottom of the glass. Draco never quite understood its purpose, but he now felt he understood the way the sand moved.
All their guests had gone. The celebration had been wild to say the least, and Draco swore he watched Pansy retreat to her room in a separate wing of the Manor with Pucey. His mother retired early with a final embrace for both him and Hermione. Without words, her eyes communicated her desire for the bonding to work, wishing them both luck.
They'd developed a plan. Once the final guests left the estate, Hermione would ward the area around the bonfire. Then, they would begin the ritual. Simple as it seemed, Draco had a feeling the ritual would still manage to surprise them. It had never been done before, they knew that much going in, as a bond such as theirs had never existed in recorded history. The amalgamation of magic was terrifying, if Draco was honest with himself. But as Hermione took one last look around, double checking her wards, Draco couldn't help but be excited for what was to come.
Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself.
"Are you ready?" He asked softly, a hand reaching out to tuck a curl behind Hermione's ear as she continued to step closer to him.
"Hm," She hummed, her own hand rising to caress his jaw, "Odd as it may seem, I have never been more sure or more confident in something in my life. It's almost as if–"
"As if we've done this before," Draco finished her thought, nodding his assent. He'd had the niggling feeling for weeks now, that urgent sense that he'd been here before, and if he just kept going a little longer, the feeling would settle.
Rather than widening in surprise, Hermione's eyes crinkled at the corner as she smiled up at him. Draco felt the air knocked from his lungs at just how stunning she appeared bathed in firelight from the dying bonfire, of course she understood.
She is my soulmate.
"You have the parchment?" Hermione asked, hands skimming down his sides to wind behind his back.
"I do, but I don't think we need it, do we?" Draco asked, half rhetorically.
"No, I suppose not," Hermione hummed in agreement. Draco felt the calm seep from her hands into him and their magic begin to mingle in the air around them, casting a faint glow.
Draco looked into her eyes for a few more moments, watching for any hesitation, before he bent to capture her lips with his. Hermione returned the kiss, eager as well. Draco savoured the push and pull between them as their magic grew heavy and heady in the air around them. When he pushed his tongue past the seam of her lips, Draco groaned. His mind clouded and he felt as if his actions were guided by someone else.
Mindlessly– and wandlessly, it would seem– he removed their clothing with a wave of his hand. Hermione gasped and Draco pulled back to watch as her nipples pebbled in the breeze. His hands roamed her body, from her neck, down to brush fingers along her collar bones, through the valley between her breasts, and around to grab her hips.
"Please, Draco, now, I- the magic, it's too much-" Hermione seemed to struggle to speak the words, and Draco had a far away thought that he too understood what she was referring to.
He brought his right hand to her lower abdomen, but then she flinched, "No! I-" Draco had nearly forgotten in the drugging haze of magic that covered them both. He took a deep breath, then returned her gaze.
"I know- it will nullify the rites. No charm," Draco nodded, and when Hermione gave him a reassuring glance, he began to kneel on the grass below them, guiding her down with him with his hands firm on her hips.
"No matter the outcome, I love you," She whispered, her voice shaking with the effort to restrain herself, Draco assumed, as he was also struggling.
Draco smirked, and winked, "I love you too, my sun. Shall we?" He arched an eyebrow.
"Yes, and remember, no touching– we have to–"
"Oh trust I haven't forgotten, Hermione," Draco's smirk widened, and he reached in the grass beside him to find his wand. When he found it, Draco sank to the grass to sit, and encouraged Hermione forward. They'd read many variations of the ritual, and this position had made the most sense.
As she straddled his lap, Draco suddenly became aware of just how aroused he had become. The magic was partially to blame, he knew that rationally, but another part of his brain was aware that this was just them. Draco and Hermione. The sun and the moon. As she shifted to position herself above his weeping cock, Draco moaned, eyes rolling at the effort not to buck up into her. The timing had to be exact.
"I'm ready, now, Draco," Hermione's forehead leaned against his own as she offered one of her hands, palm up, while the other found purchase on his shoulder.
Draco cradled her offered palm in his and slowly sliced a thin cut into the skin of her palm. He watched as a single bead of blood dripped from the cut down toward her wrist. He then brought his hand up to repeat the action, wincing at the sharp feeling of his magic slicing through his own palm. He quickly dropped his wand to the side and slowly brought his bleeding palm up to cover Hermione's heart. She repeated the action, and when her hand made contact with him, Draco felt overheated, as if he might combust. A silent conversation passed between them– without having to speak, Draco communicated he was ready. When Hermione' lowered and adjusted so she rested just over his tip, ready for the ritual, he began to pant.
One last moment passed between them, a sliver of honey in each eye peering back at him, piercing him with the intensity of emotion behind her gaze. Then, it broke, and the spoke in unison.
"In life and in death," Draco felt the air crackle around them, "By my mind, to yours," The air felt stifling, and he gasped between phrases, "One soul, one magic, forever," Hermione sank lower and Draco felt as though he might pass out, "By blood, I bound myself to you, of mind, of blood, and of soul-"
The last word hung in the air as Hermione lowered herself onto him– hard and waiting.
"Oh Gods-"
Stars exploded around them, and universes formed, died, and reformed, as Draco's mind reeled. He felt as though he were floating, until he then felt what was clearly Hermione's presence. Her heartbeat, her blood pumping alongside his own. Her arousal, aching and wanting even filled as she was with him.
Then, he was hurtling forward again until his mind felt splintered– but the pain never came– instead, Draco would akin the feeling to orgasmic. Euphoric, as he spun in the scent of peony and vanilla bean and inked parchment. It never stopped, instead, as they remained intimately connected, only a whisper of movement as each bucked shallowly against the other, Draco felt every defence he or Hermione ever conjured lower.
Flashes of memories began to slice through his mind, and he understood this was a shared experience, viewing what the other experienced and felt.
First year, a bushy haired girl opened the door to their compartment searching for a toad. Draco tried to reconcile his curiosity about the girl, with his absolute horror at the state of her hair. Instead, he laughed with Crabbe and Goyle and sent her on her way.
"Draco… Let's find somewhere… private!" Parkinson giggled.
"Pans, I'm not in the mood to have you shove your tongue down my throat again tonight, sorry." Hermione sucked in a breath.
"There's someone else, isn't there! I see the way you look at her, you always have. What would your father say, Draco? You know I'm the obvious bloody choice here, you can never be with her!"
"Well, I smell… cedarwood, like a warm night by a fire in the forest in winter… and spice, like spearmint… and" she gulped, the last bit would be difficult to describe, "The last bit is hard to describe, it's a mix of several scents… fresh cut grass, and morning dew, with the faintest hint of aged wood."
Peonies. The scent of his mother's garden in spring, also her scent. He was unable to keep the thoughts of her at bay.
The second scent hit him even harder,
Vanilla bean. His favourite ice cream flavour was vanilla bean, and of course she smelled just like his favourite sweet.
The third was almost indescribable, but undeniably her.
Parchment, but not just any parchment, old parchment that can be found in only one place—ancient texts. But that was not all, the smell lingered with the faint scent of ink…
He looked behind him to see those same brunette curls and eyes like honey in the firelight coming towards him, arm outstretched.
Those eyes were full of what he could only conceive as worry and fear.
He grabbed the hand and was swept up onto the broom and before he knew it, they were in the hall outside of the room. He was thrown from the broom in a rough landing, and he felt her eyes linger on him for a moment, the fear slowly fading.
"I think… I think I get that. Not being ready to stop the guilt, and not wanting to stop grieving for your losses." Draco chanced a glance toward Granger and her expression shifted to one of wonder.
"What, Granger. I had quite the illuminating morning and I'm feeling a bit introspective. Don't expect it to happen often."
To his shock, and somewhat, his delight, she laughed. A real laugh.
"Thank you, I think I needed that."
"Merlin's balls Granger are you trying to run me over?" he'd shouted when he collided with her pyjama clad body in the hall.
"You're much larger than I, Malfoy, wouldn't it be the other way around?! If you weren't so bloody hard, I'd have had a softer landing!" The moment it left her mouth, she turned bright red, and Draco had to fight back peals of laughter at her accidental innuendo.
Mustering up his best signature Malfoy drawl, he responded "My, Granger, care to elaborate further on that? Please, share with the class." Topping it off with a smirk, he couldn't help teasing her, not when she blushed so prettily.
Clearly flustered, Granger tilted her chin up and locked her gaze with his "No need to be crass, you know what I meant. Bloody quidditch players and your damn musculature!"
"I take it no word from Malf-"
"Gin, we're not talking about it. Leave it."
"Fine, then try on the dress and I'll shut it."
"She wasn't you."
"So, how was your afternoon?" Hermione directed to Malfoy, without looking him in the eye, lest they both fall into a weird trance again.
"Bloody long. Hence the alcohol."
"Do you… want to talk about it?"
Malfoy looked to Ginny for a moment before responding.
"Maybe later, Granger." He looked at her with a small smile.
Again, his eyes didn't leave hers.
Pools of grey… almost like a sea on a stormy day. Eyes she could get lost in.
"Um, here. Should be good, brewed them myself just in August before start of term"
"You still brew?"
"Of course, have to stay busy somehow on house arrest."
Hermione held out her hand as his eyes met hers. Then he did something Hermione would never forget.
Malfoy grabbed her hand and placed the vials in her palm.
Green sparks behind her eyes again, her magic sung for a solid ten seconds before he released her hand.
Malfoy was staring at her, in his eyes, the clearest she had ever seen them, was a sense of awe.
Had he felt that as well?
"Don't apologise to me for that, ever. I will never understand how that must feel and I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like you don't belong." He scoffed, then continued. "I mean, what a moron. Telling the brightest witch of her age that she doesn't belong."
When she looked back at him, she appeared to be stifling a laugh.
She was, because when she opened her mouth to speak, he watched intently, only to see her collapse in a fit of laughter.
"I hate those names!" Granger called out as she continued to laugh, wiping tears of mirth from under her eyes.
"I could have said Golden Girl, The Prophet loves that one right now, don't they?" He smirked and gave her a sidelong glance.
Granger's hands immediately went to cover her face.
"Oh Gods, not you too. Please don't start! Those names are awful. You can go back to Granger now. Or if you're feeling bold, Hermione works as well." She smirked back.
It was his turn to laugh.
"Don't press your luck, Granger."
"Gods you're– you're everything. I'll give you anything. Whatever you want."
"You, I just want you."
Christmas eve, 1997. Something is wrong. His chest aches. He knows it's her. He drinks himself into a stupor that night, bedroom warded should he let his guard down. At 4 a.m. he takes a sober up, a pain potion, and hones in his occlumency for the next several days.
Second year, snarling and spitting vile words at her, introducing her to the term mudblood.
Draco bent to retrieve the book for her before he realized Granger was already doing the same. As his hand met the book, so did hers.
Gold exploded behind his eyes. A soft sort of magical pulse through his mind. The second one he felt in so many days.
He lifted his eyes to meet hers and quickly handed her the book. Granger looked almost frightened.
Did she feel that too? What in Salazar's name?
"Oh! Godric, Malfoy. You scared me. What are you doing up here?"
"Honestly? I've got no idea. Just had a feeling."
"You had… a feeling… and came to the astronomy tower?"
"Correct." Draco had taken a seat next to Granger, his own legs dangling off the ledge next to hers, thighs almost touching. Granger was wearing muggle jeans. Muggle jeans that hugged her perfectly and a fitted long sleeve shirt. In the chilled night air, her choices in clothing left nothing to the imagination.
Merlin, Salazar and Godric help me.
Salazar fuck, I need my occlumency.
"What's keeping you up?" Granger had turned and craned her neck back to look at him. In the moonlight her eyes shone like honey.
Granger lifted her head to meet his gaze, and when she replied, Draco nearly lost consciousness.
"I think I'd quite like to burn with you."
She's hidden away, he barely thinks of her. As the Dark Lord's wand sears into his skin– inky black lines taking up residence on his previously pristine forearm– she sinks deeper into his subconscious, away from prying eyes.
Without conscious thought, Draco voiced something in a whisper that he never had before, "I have her buried, you know. A cabinet all her own. It's a beautiful periwinkle and in its own alcove. That is how much of my thoughts she has consumed. I had to bury her. To keep her from him. From my aunt. From my father."
Pansy shed a single tear instantly. Her response came quickly after, "I think it's time to let her go, don't you think? Your mind is a safe place now Draco. You're free to think and feel as you wish. Remember what you said your fathers wish was? Peace? You deserve that too. Let Severus help you."
A wand in his face, anticipating a hex that would never come. Instead, her fist connects with his nose and he thinks it's the first time they've ever touched one another.
Seemingly unable to remove his hand from Granger's grasp, Draco recognized that the pull was gone and in its place was a warmth he felt spread from his fingertips where their skin connected to the centre of his chest. It was a new sensation-- before, everything had felt like flames, all consuming and urgent. This was almost comforting, as if the bond knew they had both had a difficult day.
"How do you know I even listened to it? Hm?"
Granger's lips curled up into a smile that she tried to hide by ducking her chin.
"You can't help yourself. I've seen how curious you are about the muggle world now."
Draco let out a stilted laugh, "Brightest witch of her age."
Letters on a page.
Please continue to cultivate the bond with your witch. She is your witch, Draco. The bond does not waver and does not choose lightly. She is yours and you are hers. Give in. Trust your magic.
Your father,
LM
Making his way to the refreshments, Draco couldn't help but watch her float across the dance floor in Krum's arms. The way she was laughing and smiling at him as if she didn't have a care in the world twisted Draco's insides in the most uncomfortable way. Why should he care that she's having a great time on the arm of a Bulgarian quidditch star? He continued to watch as he plucked up two goblets of pumpkin juice, one for Pansy and one for himself.
Suddenly, Draco felt eyes on him. Twisting his neck to the side, he found Pansy watching her twirl in her beautiful blue gown. Then, Pansy's eyes veered his way. All at once he saw a realization in her gaze.
Easter weekend, March 1998.
The weekend they were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor. This clearly wasn't his memory of events directly involving her, so where was Malfoy?
When Hermione rounded the corner, she pushed open an ajar bathroom door to the startling sight of memory Malfoy hunched over the toilet, vomiting, his clothing torn and tattered. When he sat back on his heels it was clear he'd been crying. His hands shook violently and he was covered in bruises. He had not looked like this when they left Malfoy Manor. The trio had assumed the Malfoy's would be punished, but this was worse than Hermione had expected.
Intoxicating . Memories of his mother's gardens in spring flitted through his mind. Pleasant memories he hadn't bothered to bury, some of the few that brought him a sense of peace. Peace when he was marked by a madman. Peace when the madman moved his operations into Draco's home.
Home. That was the feeling. Granger's warmth, the smile she offered him, and her scent. Home. She was like coming home.
"More. Please, more." Granger spoke barely above a whisper as her hands continued to explore under his shirt.
"Fuck, tell me what you want. I'll give you anything." Draco choked out as he continued his attention to her neck, marvelling at the gooseflesh that rose as his lips moved against her.
"Anything– more, just– touch me please."
He watched again and again and again as short flashes of his aunt Bella carving horrid letters into her unmarked skin ran through his mind. Listened as a gut wrenching scream tore out of her throat. Watched as she convulsed from the fourth crucio, one he'd been unable to avoid viewing. Watched terrified as blood pooled beside her, the cursed blade continuing its path upward. Draco had focused on the blood rather than on her face. Tears ran down his cheeks as he recalled blood becoming diluted, then starting in horror as he realized it was urine. The effects of one too many crucio's.
Granger sprawled out on her bed, a muggle t-shirt was tucked up above one supple breast, her left hand pinching and pulling at a rosy, taut nipple. Her wild curls fanned out on her pillow below her head.
She's alive. The Dark Lord is dead. He is tired. He's taken into custody and hauled to Azkaban to await trial. He felt her eyes on him as Kingsley Shacklebolt led him– hands magically bound– to the apparition point.
Letters on a page.
That is my wish for you this week, Draco. That your future, the future of our family, knows peace.
"Magic is magic. Blood is blood. Love is everything."
Draco gasped and heard Hermione's echo in the space around them before he felt her clench around him, but the ritual it seemed was not finished with them as suddenly, what he knew to be memories– though not from this life– seemed to flow through their shared consciousness.
A lush, green garden– a beautiful tree full of a fruit Draco couldn't identify. Hermione, nearly naked, circling the tree in wonder, clearly captivated by it. Draco, as captivated as he was by the tree as well, only had eyes for Hermione. She turned to capture his gaze and smiled.
A temple– where, Draco couldn't be certain of, but it had to be thousands of years ago. Hermione stood draped in fabric, curls cascading down her back. She turned to capture his gaze and smiled, the same smile from the previous memory. The same smile she gave him present day.
A village, seemingly quiet. Modest homes built of wood sat along a shoreline. A great boat perched on a roughly constructed dock. Hermione stood on the shore, hair intricately braided down her back, some kind of paint adorning her face. She watched him seriously until she noticed him watching. She offered a smile, this time softer– but the same, nonetheless.
A grand staircase, Hermione stood at the top upon what Draco recognized to be an intricately woven Turkish rug. Her hair cascaded in waves down her back. Her olive skin glowed what could only be from frequent sun exposure. Freckles dotted the exposed skin of her wrists, and her neck. She wore ornate jewels on her wrists, in her ears, on her neck, through her nose. Draco was so entranced that he nearly missed the coy smile she threw his way before she turned to continue walking.
A vast desert. Draco watched as Hermione approached on horseback. Her eyes gleamed in the hot sun, and she glowed as radiant as ever. She wore a simple dress, long, with a corset bodice, and he could see her boots peeking out. The hat on his own head gave him pause, before he realised nearly incredulously that he'd seen these hats described in a magazine before– a cowboy hat. Hermione brought the horse to a stop just as she reached him. "My moon," She called out, smiling to him, and the memory Draco replied just as quickly, "My sun," before offering her a hand.
Clear water spanned the space in front of him, but Draco could focus on nothing other than the ringing in his ears. He was on a beach– somewhere– and Hermione, this version of her, lay sprawled on the sand, bleeding, he recognized with horror. When she reached up to caress his cheek, he nearly flinched, before she spoke softly, "I will find you in the next life, my moon,"
Draco didn't recognize the language she spoke, but he recognized the serenity of death on her face, just as the present jolted him back to life.
Gasping for air, Draco recognized tears rolling down his cheeks, just as his gaze caught on Hermione– his Hermione– The love of thousands of years together filled him at the same time his soul recognized hers again, and Draco flipped her to lie in the grass.
"My sun," He gasped as his lips captured hers. He trailed heated kisses down her throat and sucked at her pulse point, hard enough to bruise, he hoped.
"My moon," Hermione returned the sentiment as her nails dragged along his scalp, down his neck, and clawed at his back.
Draco began to thrust harshly, relishing the feel of the drag of his cock against her. They didn't speak, they didn't have to. Words were not truly necessary when you were able to share thoughts with another. Draco felt Hermione keen, felt her cunt clench deliciously around him as he adjusted the angle, attempting to hit that spot that always made her see stars.
He felt as she fell closer to the edge, and drug him along with her.
"Come, Hermione– my sun– come," He grunted and thrust deep, just as she exploded around him. A guttural moan escaped her throat, garbled, as he continued to see her through the aftershocks of pleasure.
"Need to feel you–"
"I know, I'm- I'm there–" A feral groan escaped Draco as he chased his own high, coming deep inside her. He lowered himself to press kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her closed eyelids, and finally her lips.
When they each felt the other calm, breaths returning to normal, they looked into one another's eyes.
His ancestor's had no idea, not only was he bonded to Hermione through their familial magic, but also through whatever they had uncovered tonight. Millennium's of memories, of love, of heartache, all shared between their souls. They found each other, lifetime after lifetime. Never letting the other one remain alone.
Hermione spoke first, echoing a thought running through Draco's mind.
"What you said, weeks ago, about the wanting and waiting being worth it?"
Draco nodded, knowing precisely what she would say next.
"Completely, it was completely worth it, every time, Draco," Hermione smiled, the same smile that he had observed for thousands of years.
Draco hoped to the Gods that he would see a thousand more years of that smile.