By the time Hermione and Draco returned to the bar, Hermione found Ronald… speaking with Pansy.

This day was getting stranger by the minute. She looked at Ginny, who was, at the moment, quite focused on Harry. Too bad. They had the rest of their lives to stare lovingly at one another.

"Ginny? What's that?" Hermione said, gesturing towards Pansy and Ron.

Ginny looked over her shoulder to observe them. She shrugged as she turned back to face Hermione.

"Not exactly sure. They've been speaking for almost as long as you and Malfoy." Ginny said, uninterested. Harry seemed to be on the same page as Hermione, though.

"Not a bloody clue," he started, leaning around Ginny to stare, "first you walk off with Malfoy to have a chat, and then Ron and I were getting ready to go full Auror, and then Parkinson comes over and starts asking us what's happening. As if we're the ones who've been at school with you for the past month." Harry was now rubbing his temples.

"And by the way, you're not going to be able to distract me by pointing out Ron's enthusiastic discussion with Pansy Parkinson. You just sat at a table talking with Malfoy, by choice, for half a bloody hour." Harry added, looking at her with suspicion.

"What's wrong with that?" Ginny tried, shooting Hermione a slight shrug and smile, as if to say, 'am I doing this right?' No, Ginny.

"What's wrong with that? Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that they didn't mention any project that needed discussing, and he's spent our entire childhood calling her a Mudbl-" Hermione cut him off with a raised hand, flinching at any else's use of the slur.

She also cursed herself for not saying she and Malfoy had been discussing schoolwork. But, again, that wouldn't have required so much time. Or privacy.

"We're… sort of acquaintances. He's finished with his Pureblood superiority mindset." Hermione said, glancing over at Malfoy, who now sat with Blaise and… Dean Thomas, of all people? Random. Although Malfoy did seem less disgusted with Dean compared to Seamus. She couldn't really argue with that judgment call.

"Malfoy? Dropped his racism?" Harry asked, more stunned than he had been all day.

"It's complicated," Ginny said, entirely unhelpfully. Now Harry looked perplexed.

"How can Malfoy and Hermione be complicated?"

"Oh, quite easily, Harry Potter. The potion and the bond are so curious." Luna stated breezily as she came to stand beside him, obviously assuming Harry, like her, had been able to sense the established connection between Hermione and Malfoy.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

"What?" Harry cried, looking to Hermione, begging for some sort of explanation.

"Oh dear, have I said the wrong thing?" Luna asked, seeming slightly concerned as Theo came up behind her, confused by the commotion following Harry's scream.

Hermione stood stunned. She had no idea how to explain any of it. She'd only just managed to tell Ginny. She needed time to figure things out before broadcasting anything to anyone else.

"Hermione, please, tell me Luna is out of her mind," Harry said, with a grimace in Luna's direction before he continued, "no offense, Luna."

"None taken, Harry Potter. I do believe I just gave you quite the scare. I'll let Hermione speak for herself." Luna, who'd just probably ruined Hermione's entire life without a drop of intent or maliciousness, took Theo's hand and led him to the exit of the pub.

At least now she couldn't share Hermione's personal information with anyone else.

Hermione was still too stunned to speak, glancing at Ginny, who looked equally as freaked out and unsure.

"Harry… like I said before. It's extremely complicated. I'm – please don't be angry with me. This was completely out of my control," was all Hermione could manage in response. It felt like the wrong thing to say. She'd been too shocked to think of how to cover or lie her way out of it. Harry stared back at her with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.

"Are you fucking kidding, Hermione?" He yelled, mainly out of some sort of shocked emotion. She flinched.

Without looking away from Harry, she knew everyone was now staring at them. Including random patrons of the pub that did not attend Hogwarts. Total strangers.

"I -"

"Harry, calm down." Ginny said, squeezing his arm.

"Calm down? He'll kill her! Or – someone will! What the hell has been going on? Ginny, have you known this whole time? Why didn't you contact anyone?" Harry was now pulling at his hair, standing up from the barstool he'd been sitting on.

"What's going on?" Ron asked from where he'd been standing against the wall, next to an equally as confused Pansy.

Hermione's eyes shot towards Malfoy, who was also staring at them now, looking almost as shocked as Harry. Before she could do anything else, Harry was lunging towards him, wand out.

Blaise was faster, and much less emotional.

"Expelliarmus!" He hissed, catching Harry's wand easily.

"Blaise!" Pansy shouted from next to Ron.

"OUT. All of you." The barkeep roared from behind the bar. Hermione cringed at the public altercation. Humiliating. She and Ginny seemed to be on the same wavelength, each grabbing one of Harry's arms as they summoned their things and dragged him towards the exit.

He was struggling.

"I don't even have my wand!" Harry shouted, trying to turn back.

"ALL. OF. YOU. Get OUT." The barkeep moved from behind the counter, screaming at all of the Hogwarts-aged patrons.

As Hermione pulled Harry out the door, she saw Malfoy throwing some money down on the bar top, seemingly enough to cover the tab. Rich prat. Sort of… sweet.

Harry snarled. Oh, right. She was trying to hold him back from cursing Draco Malfoy again.

Ginny pushed him down onto the bench outside, sitting on him to keep him in place.

"Harry. Stop fucking shouting. You're going to blow the whole thing!" Ginny begged, looking around for anyone who might overhear as the rest of the group filed out of the pub.

"What's going on?" Pansy barked, seemingly quite displeased to have been forced out of the establishment. Hermione noticed Padma and Adrian walking out one after the other and realized she hadn't even seen that either of them were still inside. There was too much going on, and she had deduced a few minutes ago that Parvati and Seamus had to have left with Neville at some point while she and Malfoy had been speaking and she had her back turned. She'd just assumed Padma had left as well.

"Ginny, I'm not going to do anything. But I want my fucking wand. Now." Hermione did a double take. Harry sounded like an Auror.

Blaise, who now stood a few yards away, tossed it at his feet.

"Sorry to have taken that off your hands, Potter. Couldn't allow you to try to maim Draco again. He's on probation and even being attacked completely unprovoked by the Chosen One -" Harry cut off Blaise in the middle of his hissed non-apology.

"She'll be safer if-" Harry started, and Hermione felt her head nearly explode.

"I don't need your bloody protection, Harry! We're bound. He would probably hurt himself more if he attempted to harm me, you dolt!" Hermione screeched.

Draco's eyes went wider than anyone thought possible as he stood behind her. He was also somehow paler. Hermione didn't even notice.

"What in the bloody hell is going on?" Ron said, still standing next to Pansy Parkinson, who was dead silent and wide-eyed as she glanced back and forth between Hermione and Draco.

Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes. She couldn't handle this. She wouldn't stand there and be attacked by everyone because she and Malfoy were together. Or whatever they were. Not together, but something.

"Ron," Ginny said, one arm wrapped around Harry's wrist, "I think I should apparate back to Grimmauld with you and Harry now. To have a discussion." Thank gods for Ginny Weasley.

"I want to know what's bloody happening before I leave Hermione here by herself!" Ron shouted back, still not fully understanding what was going on.

"I'm fine Ronald! In case you haven't realized, it's Harry who is causing my distress!" She cried, tears falling down her cheeks in frustration. She was overwhelmed and exhausted and still didn't feel confident enough in her situation with Malfoy to try to explain it to a group lest he decide to reject and humiliate her. She looked down at the ground, suddenly feeling incapable of meeting anyone's eyes. Especially grey ones.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron said again.

"Weasel," Hermione's head snapped up at the sound of his voice. "I, for the first time in my life, agree with your sister. You should leave. Now." Draco finished tightly.

Was he being protective?

"What the hell is going on?" Ron said again, clearly about to lose his shit. Luckily, Ginny existed.

"I'll be back tonight, Hermione," she said, trying to sound as comforting as possible before pulling off the side-along apparition of the damn century.

Ginny Weasley had managed to haul Harry far enough forward so that she could grab onto her brother's arm and spin into the abyss with a pop.

"Shit! Weasley is fucking wild!" Blaise laughed in shock at Ginny's lightning-fast maneuver.

"Do me a favor, Blaise, and shut the fuck up." Pansy hissed. She was now stalking towards Malfoy.

"Did you little fucking sneak actually manage to soul bond to Granger, the literal war heroine, and not fucking tell me?!" She was screaming now. Then she rounded on Blaise.

"And you fucking knew!" She jabbed him in the chest.

"Pans, cool it." Adrian said, and now it was Hermione's turn to look up in shock.

"YOU KNEW, TOO?" She shouted, turning back to look at Draco with utter fury.

"Of course I didn't bloody know! I'm just in control of my emotions enough to recognize we're in fucking public!" Adrian spat. Finally, someone with sense!

"You can all shut the fuck up. We're going back to the school. Now." Draco said with complete authority. Hermione almost fell over as she watched everyone, including Dean and Padma, straighten in attention at his instructions.

He nodded his head in the direction of Hogwarts, and Blaise chuckled and shook his head as he yanked Pansy by the arm to get her to fall in line, Adrian following with a borderline apologetic glance back at Padma.

Pansy shot a look over her shoulder at both Hermione and Draco, which Hermione admittedly couldn't decipher.

"I'm actually going to go over to Honeydukes," Dean said cautiously, "Parvati, Seamus and Neville headed over there a bit ago." He finished.

So that's where they'd gone. They were probably picking up a few things and planning to return to the pub any minute.

"I'll go with you," Padma said, glancing worriedly in Hermione's direction, but too rattled by the last 20 minutes to stick around. They both walked quickly past Hermione and Malfoy, the only people still remaining, without looking back.

"Well, Granger. I thought we'd agreed on no announcements."

Chapter 27: Twenty Seven

Notes:

In which terms are discussed and Narcissa Malfoy is contacted.

Chapter Text

Granger's expression shifted from one of shock and nervousness to something of frustration.

"You think I wanted that to happen, you prat?" She hissed, turning on her heel to head back towards school.

He jogged to grab her wrist, spinning her.

"Are you alright? What the fuck was that?" Draco asked, not finding it within himself to yell at her or be angry. He'd deal with Pansy and Adrian and whoever the fuck else when he got back.

"Bloody Luna! She's such a stupid idiot!" Granger cried, much to his amusement. Maybe she really was his beloved.

"That was a terrible thing to say." Granger quickly spoke to herself, hiccuping as she wiped her tears.

"I mean, it's not fucking wrong." Draco laughed.

"No, it is wrong! She didn't mean to! I shouldn't say those things about her. She's a close friend and it's unkind." Granger started walking again, and he followed. As if he'd dream of doing anything else.

"Sure. Care to explain what Lovegood did to cause that bloody clusterfuck?" He said, his hands in his pockets as he strode beside Granger, a not insignificant walk ahead of them.

"She was able to sense we'd been a match before anyone else. She's really quite intuitive and incredibly smart." Granger began, at which Draco immediately scoffed.

"I'm serious! She's strange, and a bit out of it at times, but she really is clever."

"I'm relieved the Sorting Hat was able to gather as much. She was probably covered in protective charm bracelets when it had to make a decision based on her many traits." Draco said sarcastically, hating that he knew enough about Lovegood to make the protective charm joke.

Then Granger giggled at his quip. He stifled the look of pride he'd have been wearing if he were anyone else.

"Well, that's just it, though. She is a Ravenclaw, through and through. It's almost arrogant the way she assumes everyone else will be able to see exactly what she sees. Of course, she's so bloody good-natured and sweet, it could never actually be considered arrogant. More oblivious, I suppose." Granger explained, as though Draco gave a hippogriff's arse what made Loony tick.

"Granger, no offense, but I don't care enough about Luna fucking Lovegood to fake like I want to hear any more about it. Can you just explain why She Weasel just had to apparate the twins by force back to their treehouse?" He could tell she almost laughed again. Fuck, Granger really was pissed at Potter.

"As I was saying, Luna tends to assume others can see what she sees, despite daily reminders of the opposite. She just so happened to join my conversation with Harry when he was interrogating me about why we'd been sitting together and why we had a complicated relationship." Granger sighed.

"I see." He didn't need her to finish. Obviously, Loony had said something to make it clear to Pothead that they were involved. Draco had seen the rest of it.

"I think it would be prudent to discuss the terms of our involvement, seeing as we now have time to speak that I didn't anticipate earlier." Granger said, staring forward and marching as Draco rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, Granger. I don't have a quill and parchment, though. So, I can't take notes. You'll have to forgive me if I forget a few regulations." He drawled.

"That won't be a problem. We can speak reasonably and like adults." She insisted, marching less and walking more, now, but still not looking at him.

"Alright. Fucking spit it out, then, Granger." He encouraged.

"That right there! You're so rude!" She instantly stopped walking and turned to him. He rolled his eyes again, wondering if they'd get stuck like that at some point.

"It's how I speak. I use bad words. So do you, if my memory serves, and I don't scold you for it." He replied, looking right back at her with boredom.

"You absolutely do! You comment every time I let one slip, despite riling me up to the point I find it necessary to curse!" She had a point there. He smirked, opting not to answer with words. Now she rolled her eyes as they began to walk again. They still had about twenty minutes before they got all the way back to the school grounds. Longer if Draco decided to really take his time.

"Well, in general, I think it would be helpful if we both made an effort to be considerate and respectful. For example, don't intentionally provoke me and try to humiliate me during classes."

"Not a clue what you're talking about." He quipped, obviously knowing exactly what she meant.

"Malfoy, please be serious. No more public displays of whatever that was in Arithmancy. I'm not going to dignify your teasing by calling it affection. I will very quickly run out of consideration and respect if you purposely interfere with my studies." The bloody swot was out to play now. Draco decided not to push her on it.

"Fine. But I may still need to sit next to you from time to time. I need space from Blaise." He said dramatically, completely pulling that excuse out of his arse.

"That seems unlikely, but because you seem somewhat agreeable, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." She side-eyed him as she verbalized her noble endeavor.

"What about the rest of it, Granger? I mean, I don't find Nott and Barmy to be a glowing example, but they're not hiding their involvement. The people who know them or care to observe can draw their own conclusions. Is that how we should be behaving?" Draco asked, genuinely curious as to what the ground rules were for public interaction.

"I am… unsure. I guess that will be up to both of us. Now that all of the closest people to me know my business, I don't really care what we do. You're the one with a family that would rather I'd perished in the war." She said coolly. He hadn't anticipated discussing his family or the war. Now he was a little pissed off.

"My father is probably half-mad by now and will remain in Azkaban for Salazar knows how long without a fucking option to give me his opinion. And don't assume to know what my mother wished for in the war. You'll be wrong every time. Don't speak about her, actually. I'm allowed to make rules too. Don't fucking speak about my mother." He spat.

Granger stopped again, and as he looked up at her, still seething at the mention of Narcissa Malfoy, she appeared absolutely stunned. She even had the decency to seem a bit remorseful. Interesting. His anger immediately evaporated, which pissed him off again.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't make assumptions about her. It's difficult not to when my only close contact with her was being tortured on her living room floor," Granger responded, sounding more defiant as she remembered the whole torture bit. That too was nearing a hard limit for him. He really didn't like to think about it.

"Drawing room," Draco corrected.

"Right, because that's important," Granger must have caught his contagious eye rolling condition. She was at it again.

"Well, go on Granger. Be respectful, help a bloody Hufflepuff, stop swearing so much – a huge ask that I won't make any promises on – and you agreeing to stay the fuck away from matters involving my mother. What else?" He taunted.

"Don't purposely provoke my friends. Baiting them might be instinctual for you, but not long ago, so was strictly referring to me as a certain slur. I believe you can change," he winced. Ouch. The mudblood stuff was touchy.

"So just, please," she continued, her tone softening, "try not to create any more issues for either one of us than we already have?" Granger seemed far too sincere and hopeful.

"Fine. Give me a moment to think about whether I have anything else to add." Draco was being a bit spiteful now that she seemed to be finished with her serious shit.

"This ought to be good," she mumbled under her breath. He nearly chuckled at that, because his mind was already spinning around their more physical and intimate interactions.

"Actually, before you make me all flustered by speaking completely freely, let me address some more… intimate details." Granger ground out, much to his dismay. Leave it to her to make this boring.

"Oh, fucking Gods, whatever. It's all on your terms, isn't it Granger?" He was baiting her now.

"Well, seeing as you're the Village Whore, yes, it is! You'd probably like to stick it in me without warning! Absolutely not!" She exclaimed, animated and waving her arms about like an idiot.

Draco immediately stopped walking, turning to her and backing her up against a tree on their path. They'd be back in the castle in five minutes, but he had privacy now, and he was pretty peeved by her continuous insults.

"You know what, Granger? I think it's pretty rich that you give me all these rules for how I can behave, respect and all that, and then you think it's perfectly acceptable to call me a whore and say I'd stick my dick in you without giving you a heads up," he began, absolutely furious.

"When, pray tell, have I ever pushed you to do something you weren't agreeable to? When have I made you uncomfortable in a real way, during a moment of bloody intimacy? It's fucking rude and hurtful to call someone a slag and then tell them they'd ignore the basic rules of consent. I haven't done anything fucking wrong. So fuck. You." Draco hissed, his face inches from hers as she looked up at him with a horrified expression. He was so irritated that he didn't even want to throw caution to the wind and snog her up against the tree right now. She was a bitch!

"You haven't." She snapped back, agreeing but sounding angry, probably more out of instinct than anything.

"Right. I don't fucking play around on that shit. And here you are, eating your words and bloody apologizing to me for half of our discussion. So fuck off, Granger. The rules are as necessary for you to follow as they are for me, and when you're off your high horse, maybe you could take a moment to contemplate how that shit feels." He spat, turning and marching across the grass towards the castle.

"Malfoy, wait!" She called, hurrying after him. Draco kept walking, pretty much finished with the conversation. Finished with always having to be the bad guy with her and with everyone else.

"I'm not going to be a duel practice dummy for you, Granger. I've owned my past and I'm trying to make up for it. You don't get to fucking shit on me 24/7 now. Not fucking fair." He said, loud enough for her to hear from behind him.

"You're right." She said, and that stopped him. Draco decided not to turn around yet.

"I am the one who has to apologize often. But you behave like a prat and you tell me there's nothing to be done because it's your personality. Fine. But you don't get to just storm off." She was pissy. Now he turned.

"Oh, I storm off? Have you fucking met yourself, Granger? You could be a professional." He laughed harshly.

"Fine. We're both hypocrites." She said forcefully, crossing her arms. Well how the fuck was he supposed to argue with that?

"I'm not a hypocrite. I'm a Malfoy." He chirped, immediately sensing it was a terrible response. Granger instantly started laughing.

"Okay, Draco." She said through her chuckles. He liked that.

"My other rule. No more using my last name against me and shouting it like it's a curse. First name or, if you must, last name without all the vitriol." Draco stated, looking down at his nails and trying to seem bored.

"Sure, Draco. I'll do my best. Are you going to start calling me by my first name now, or does this rule only apply to my use of vocabulary?" Granger was baiting him now, but it wasn't working. There was no real anger in her taunt.

"I don't say Granger like its Polyjuice potion in my mouth. So, I'll be continuing to call you whatever I please, since I'm not being a bitch about it. Maybe I will decide to call you Hermione. Even though, no offense, it really doesn't roll off the tongue like your surname," He smirked, raising his eyebrows in provocation.

Her little arms tightened in their position across her chest. How silly.

"I'd like to study with you." Granger declared, immediately robbing him of the bloody upper hand as he tried not to fall over.

"Study? Is that code? Want to bring our books to the shed?" Draco replied, impressed with his maneuver. She went rigid, gasping at the suggestion. Upper hand, regained.

"No! I mean it. Don't laugh at me when I propose doing something normal." She exclaimed, still all rattled. His favorite Granger, he thought. Although he thought that about a lot of versions of her.

"Alright, Swot. We'll study. Where?" Draco asked, genuinely pleased at the idea the longer he considered it.

"Well, obviously my table in the library. Tomorrow. Instead of meeting in the classroom after breakfast, we'll walk to the library."

"Together?!" He dramatically shrieked, and she actually laughed outright. Maybe this was his favorite Granger.

"Yeah. It'll be on the front page of the Prophet by the time we sit at my spot." She rolled her eyes.

Oh shit. The Prophet. Draco's blood ran cold.

Hermione finished laughing at her own joke, pleasantly surprised by how their conversation had gone despite some bumps, and then looked up at Malfoy to find him a statue.

Oh, shoot. She'd mentioned the press.

The Daily Prophet actually might be sending an owl soon. She hadn't considered that herself, immediately following suit and turning to stone as well.

"I'll see you tomorrow after breakfast, Granger," Malfoy suddenly barked, spinning and nearly sprinting back through the castle doors. She almost wanted to chase him to find out where he was going, but she figured she would give him a bit of space. The day had been a literal cluster, and he'd behaved with surprising maturity. Draco Malfoy actually impressed her. Hermione started through the corridor, walking in the direction of Gryffindor without having to think about it.

The second her heart returned to a normal speed, although slightly stinging at Malfoy's distance, Hermione felt it sink.

Harry had gone completely insane at the news of her and Malfoy's bond. To his credit, he had mainly seemed shocked and worried for her well-being, but she didn't need him to be her bloody father. Hermione had one of those already, whether he knew who she was or not. Ouch. She stung herself with that train of thought. As she passed the portraits, she shook her head, trying to clear her mind of sadness and the grief for her parents.

Her chosen family, Ron and Harry, were likely being briefed on her situation as she made her way through the school. Hermione's stomach tumbled further at the thought, suddenly wishing she could be there to ensure Ginny properly explained things. Then, she thought about how completely hurt she'd been by Harry's initial reaction and decided it might be better to sit this one out. She couldn't really win regardless.

She glanced at a clock as she passed it, hanging on a wall next to her favorite portrait of all four founders. It was nearly dinner time. She hoped Ginny would be back in time to go with her. On second thought, though, Hermione felt maybe she wasn't in the mood for a meal with the entire student body. After her world came crashing down this afternoon, she hadn't had much time to take inventory of all the people who might've overheard the whole debacle. She cringed again, understanding why Malfoy had started sprinting off to wherever.

Hermione took a deep breath as she approached the Fat Lady's portrait, about to utter the password when she heard the loudmouth Gryffindor guardian speak first.

"Well if it isn't the house traitor! Popular girl today, aren't you?" Ouch. She muttered "flustered flobberworms," thinking briefly about the bizarre password for that year. Although, if she really thought about it, that's sort of what they all were.

She did her best not to react at all to the portrait's hurtful jab, knowing it meant she'd overheard whispers from Hermione's own housemates. Great. Word was circulating quickly. The portrait swung open and Hermione ducked through the hole.

Bless the gods, the common room was empty of anyone her own year. Just younger students gaping up at her, as per usual. She breezed past them and up the stairs, heading straight for the privacy of her own room.

She locked her door behind her, throwing herself onto her bed and trying to comprehend the events of the day.

Not only had she finally been forced to tell Ginny, but all of her friends now knew, or were well on their way to knowing following Harry's outburst. Hermione checked the time again, finding it was quarter to five in the afternoon.

She figured Ginny had been at Grimmauld Place with the boys for just over an hour by now. Hermione hoped to Godric she'd be back soon. She wasn't sure if that was a realistic wish, considering that although Ginny had some very serious information to share with Ron and Harry, she and Harry also hadn't had any alone time in weeks.

Gross.

Hermione decided it might be best to try to distract herself with some more reading of Homer while she waited.

By 6:30, Hermione was beginning to doubt whether Ginny would return at all. That was against the rules, first of all, and second of all, Hermione refused to brave the corridors again without her support.

Just as she noticed how little she felt like eating, there was a tapping on her window. She glanced over to find an owl with an envelope in its beak.

As Hermione cracked it open, she felt herself trembling. She wasn't sure who she wanted the letter to be from. Anyone but Rita Skeeter, she supposed. She took the envelope and the bird instantly leapt from her windowsill. As she turned the letter over, she noticed Harry's signature scrawl.

She was also hit with the realization that she hadn't recognized his owl. It must be new. Poor Hedwig.

Hermione shut the window and walked slowly to sit at her desk, afraid to actually open the letter.

As she settled into her chair, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. Whatever it said, she could take it. Hopefully.

She broke the seal of the piece of mail and pulled the parchment out, finding it to be only one page, which she wasn't sure was a good or a bad thing.

Hermione,

Ginny has explained what's happened to Ron and me.

I'm sorry for how I reacted. It's going to take some getting used to.

We'll be back at school in two weekends with the Weasley's for Ginny's first game.

Harry

That was it?!?

What the hell? Nothing else? No "I hope you're alright," or "it's going to be okay"?!?!

Hermione surprised herself by feeling rather furious instead of sad or hurt. It was just as they'd all been saying. She hadn't had any choice in who her magic decided to bind her to. If she and Malfoy were that similar, maybe Harry and Ron didn't actually like her as much as they thought. Or maybe they didn't hate Malfoy as much as they believed. Either way, she took offense.

For all her quirks, Hermione knew for a fact that she would never have caused a scene or tried to attack anyone on Ron or Harry's behalf. It didn't matter who they were compatible with, since Bellatrix Lestrange was long dead, she felt no need to try to curse someone in the name of trying to 'protect' anyone else.

Hermione set the letter on fire, watching as it turned to ash, quickly vanishing the remnants. Screw Harry, and screw Ron.

Actually, she was going to wait to reserve judgment on Ron's character. He hadn't signed the letter. Which hopefully meant that he didn't concur with Harry's lack of empathy. For once in her life, Hermione steeled herself against the possible feelings of her friends. She didn't have the energy for it.

She was going to be selfish for once.

Draco Malfoy found himself pacing outside of fucking McGonagall's office, of all places. He was truly out of his mind.

He repeatedly ran his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out his best option given the circumstances.

Granger's fuckhead friends all knew of their situation now, thanks to Lovegood the Space Cadet. Bollocks. She was no Ravenclaw. He didn't care what Granger said.

But after Granger had made the joke about an article running in the Daily Prophet, he'd nearly puked up his Ogden's on her shoes. Luckily, he'd gotten a grip before that happened. What a waste that would've been.

Now all he could do was go mad trying to figure out how best to inform his mother of his entanglement and likely future as a father of half-bloods.

Alright, he wasn't going to mention that. He didn't want to think about kids with Granger right now. They were just going on a bloody study date tomorrow.

Was it a date?

Fuck. Focus.

Before he could request entry, the Guardian that handled access to the Headmistress' office began to move, a spiral staircase rising before him. Perhaps old Professor McGonagall sensed his manic state from her quarters and decided to throw him a bloody bone.

He started sprinting up the steps, two at a time. As he flew into her office, he remembered himself and froze, shifting back into his natural form as cold, calm heir to the largest fucking vault in Britain. He could handle this.

"Mister Malfoy, I was informed you were having a mild panic attack outside of my residence. Can I be of assistance?" The old witch said tightly, with a somehow comforting tilt to her signature swotty tone. Kind of Granger-esque, if he really thought about it.

"I don't panic," he bit out, creature of habit he was. He found himself flinching when he saw her features harden at his defensive remark.

"I apologize for my tone, Headmistress. You're correct. I think I do need help." Draco tried again, letting the façade fall a bit. He wished Severus was still Headmaster. That brand of pep talk, for all its harshness and cruelty, he could handle. Minerva McGonagall was a foreign creature to him.

"I'm happy to assist you if possible, Draco." She replied authoritatively, gesturing for him to sit at one of the chairs in front of her desk as she settled behind it. How cozy yet formal.

He sat and straightened impossibly higher in the chair; posture that would do his tutor proud.

"I require your advice, and possible assistance, in contacting my mother regarding my… status." Draco spoke slowly, slightly disoriented with the fact that he was here asking this old bat for help.

But he did need to get to his mother before Skeeter did.

"Your status?" McGonagall questioned; eyebrows raised.

"My potion thing. My potion bond mate status." Draco was trying to speak with all the confidence in the world, but he literally had no fucking idea what to call it. Regardless of who he was speaking with, he had no idea what the Granger thing he was dealing with was called.

The Headmistress set her mouth in a straight line but seemed curious.

"May I ask why it is that you would need my assistance with regards to that sort of matter? Surely, an owl would suffice." The Transfiguration professor replied. Draco's fists clenched in his lap. She looked down, noticing his strain, before meeting his eyes again.

"Headmistress, with all due respect, it is much too time-sensitive and important for the post. I have reason to believe the information about who I've been bound to may soon become public knowledge. I think it is in everyone's best interests for me to inform my mother of the situation before this explodes." He explained, ice in his voice. Draco nearly laughed at the prospect of informing his mother about Granger in a letter.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows again, clearly mulling it over.

"With all due respect, Mister Malfoy, I quite doubt this personal information will be as high-profile of news as you seem to expect. I can, however, offer to let you use my fireplace to call your mother through the floo. I will also require, should you do so, that I remain in the room throughout." She said tightly.

Oh, she was a bitch. Sure, McGonagall. Stay for the chat to make sure he didn't call any Death Eaters to give them the secret password to the Great Hall or some fucking nonsense. They were all dead or in jail. Except for him, of course.

"I appreciate the opportunity, Headmistress. May I do so now?" He smiled insincerely, trying not to scream at her.

"That'll be fine, Mister Malfoy." She nodded and stood from her chair, leading him over towards her fireplace. Hold onto your fucking robes, Professor.

His mother answered almost immediately.

"Hello?" She said in her slightly panicked, but still calm from an outsider's perspective voice.

"Mrs. Malfoy, it's Minerva McGonagall. I'm here with your son."

"Draco?! Is he alright?" Narcissa called out, no longer trying to hide her concern.

"I'm fine, Mother. I just needed to speak with you, and I didn't think the discussion was fit to be had by mail." He said stiffly, privately comforted by the sound of his mother's voice. He missed her when he was away at school.

"I'll give you two a moment to speak. Please be aware I'll remain in the room while you talk with your son."

"Thank you, Headmistress." Narcissa said with all the cool reverence of a proper, high-bred Pureblood witch.

Draco nodded once at McGonagall as she moved to stand behind his chair by the fire.

"Are you sure you're well, Draco? What's the matter?" Oh, how his mother worried.

"I'm fine, Mother. You have my word. Are you… seated?" He asked, trying to sound calm so as not to further alarm her.

"Of course I'm seated, Draco! Why should I be seated?" Narcissa was running out of patience. At least she clearly hadn't been contacted by any vultures from the press between the time Potty threw a tantrum and now.

"I just want to ensure you're comfortable. I called to share some news with you because I wanted to make sure you heard it directly from me. I fear the press may become involved and I would never allow you to learn information about me from those bottom feeders." Draco bit out the last part, his anger flaring at the thought.

"Please don't tell me you've violated your probation, Draco. We discussed this at length. You were to keep your-" Draco cut her off, a very uncharacteristic and impolite thing for him to do. He could hear his mother's wordless shock through the floo.

"My head down. And I have, Mother. It has nothing to do with any of that. I'm not in any… legal trouble. It's regarding the Ministry mandate. The potion." He told her calmly.

"I thought you'd wrote me the morning after to tell me you still believed it was-" Narcissa paused, trying to decide how best to speak about a ministry mandate knowing McGonagall could hear. If he wasn't so petrified, he'd have snickered at the sheer Slytherin of it all.

"A matter that would have little to no impact on you, Draco." She finished. Well done, Mother.

"I was… mistaken. It has become unavoidable. I've been bound to someone and cannot ignore the matter." He replied, not yet finding the words to explain everything.

"That's nice, dear. Is it Pansy?" His mother sounded almost pleased.

"Mother, we've discussed this. Pansy is a very close friend. Nothing more." He said slowly, trying not to show his irritation.

"Then who is it, Draco?" She asked, sounding much less content now that she'd been told he would not be marrying her favorite of his pureblood friends. Blaise was a close second, though.

"Mother, I want to first let you know that this was not an intentional connection. It just happened. Though the bloody idiots at the Ministry's office would probably tell you it was fucking meant to be." Draco rolled his eyes, unable to keep up the polite act. His mother would understand why soon enough.

"Language, Draco." She replied tightly.

"Right. Well, now that I've explained the nature of the match, I'll tell you the name of my alleged soulmate." He rolled his eyes again.

"That would be appreciated, my son." Draco wondered if she'd rolled her eyes back at him when responding. She sounded irritated. Like mother, like son.

"It's Hermione Granger." He said firmly. To his great satisfaction, he heard McGonagall gasp behind him. Told you, old bat.

To his great displeasure, his mother's end of the call was dead silent. Not satisfactory.

"Are you there?" He couldn't help but ask, a bit desperate.

"I'm here, Draco." Narcissa Malfoy was speechless. He never thought he'd see the day.

"I apologize for having to share such shocking news through the floo, Mother. But I have reason to believe you may be hearing from Skeeter or whoever else soon. Word is traveling quickly." Draco said bitterly. She was quiet for another moment.

"I appreciate your consideration, my son. I am… unsure how to comment... should I receive any owls. I imagine it would reflect poorly to reply that I have no comment on the matter." Draco knew her mind was already considering the way the story would be spun. The reporters would be looking for every opportunity to paint the Malfoys as outraged, mortified blood purists with nothing but disdain for the most famous muggleborn witch in Britain.

"You should know, Mother, that I am quite… interested. In her. I can't easily explain the way I've been affected but do trust me when I tell you. I have never felt this way before." Draco was forcing out words he didn't really want to say, but he needed his mother to adjust to the news with the knowledge that he wasn't miserable. He hoped, for the sake of his relationship with his mother, that Blaise had been correct in predicting how she would handle it.

"I'll speak with you soon, Draco. Expect an owl." His mother said, not unkindly, before disconnecting the call.

Well. It had gone about as well as he had expected. Icy reception, no immediate words of support or comfort. Narcissa Malfoy was never one to speak freely when caught off guard.

Draco stood from his seat and turned back around to face the Headmistress, who looked like she'd been hit with a very effective petrificus totalus.

"I appreciate you allowing me to use your floo. Is there anything else you need from me before I head down for the meal, Headmistress?" He asked, partially basking in the fact that she was shook to her bloody core. Not her perfect protégé!

"Nothing. You're free to go, Mister Malfoy," McGonagall replied unemotionally, much more quickly than he'd expected her to.

As he made to turn towards the exit, her voice stopped him.

"Draco, if I may." She called, and he looked up at her.

"Of course, Professor." He said, really not interested in any speech from Cat Lady on how she'd expel him if he disrespected her star pupil. He knew the drill.

"Are both you and Miss Granger alright?" She asked, much to Draco's surprise. That was not what he'd imagined to hear from Granger's mentor.

"We're… fine. We've already discussed how we'll proceed." The look on McGonagall's face told him he should continue speaking.

"Without going into detail, I feel confident that Granger and I are on the same page. A match made in Ministry heaven. I'm sure the papers will love the unexpected, forbidden love story." He rolled his eyes, unable to stifle his shining personality.

"I do apologize things have gone this way, for what it is worth, Mister Malfoy. And, despite my surprise, I find that I am… understanding of how this could be possible," Draco had half a mind to use a scourgify on his eardrums. Had he been slipped a Weasley bonbon causing overproduction of wax, or was he hallucinating?

"You've not had the best attitude or the kindest things to say during your time at Hogwarts, but I have never once doubted your intelligence. Nor have I doubted your aptitude for kindness and… change. Professor Dumbledore spoke quite highly of your potential, as well." She finished, as Draco fought to pick his jaw up off the floor.

"You're dismissed, Mister Malfoy. Please do let me know if I can be of any further assistance in this matter or any other." McGonagall smiled slightly, nodding before turning to walk back to her desk.

Despite his shock, Draco choked out a thank you and bolted out and down the stairs. He was sick to death of these Gryffindors and their bloody decency.

Draco walked into the Slytherin common room with his usual saunter, much less concerned now that he'd shared his news with Narcissa Malfoy. If the press didn't know yet, that was really the only other thing he had to worry about. Everyone he gave a shit about had been made aware. Anyone else could fuck off.

Before he could take inventory of who sat on the couches, Pansy flew into view, pushing his shoulder as she gave him one of her most terrifying glares.

Draco didn't even flinch.

"You. Sit," She demanded, pointing at a chair.

"I'm not going to discuss this with you with an audience, Pansy," he spat, knowing he was definitely going to have to share the story with her now if he ever wanted to know peace.

"Fine," she hissed, pointing in the direction of his dorm hallway, "move."

Draco rolled his eyes for effect, proceeding in the direction of his room with Pansy at his heels. He was going to head that way anyways, but she'd intercepted him upon his arrival.

"After you," Draco drawled, opening his bedroom door for her to enter. Pansy shot a mock look of gratitude, placing her hand on her chest like she couldn't believe how sweet he was to make such a gesture. Oh boy, he was in trouble. Pansy was truly fucking pissed.

She stomped into his room as Draco looked up to find Blaise jogging towards him, slithering past him and into Draco's room before he could slam it shut. Great, a little group to share stories with. Draco followed them both in and shut his door, locking it behind him.

He dramatically positioned himself on his bed, as though the whole gathering was really putting him out. Draco crossed his legs and placed both hands behind his head as Blaise laughed at the scene, sitting himself at Draco's desk. Pansy looked to be uninterested in sitting. Another good sign.

"Blaise, I'm not sure why you're here," Pansy began in a pissy voice.

"That actually makes two of us," Draco agreed, shooting his best mate a glare.

"Pans, please – pretend I'm not here. I'm interested only in keeping the peace," Blaise replied with clear humor in his voice. Draco rolled his eyes as Pansy decided against caring, opting to start in on the blonde. He braced himself, knowing he was going to have to let her eviscerate him.

"You're a piece of shit, Draco. I bust my fucking arse all year, trying to make sure you don't fuck up your probation and get yourself shipped to Azkaban, and you repay me by telling everyone but me about you and Hermione bloody Granger?" Pansy screamed, though not very loudly. They were Slytherins, after all. Loud screaming wasn't sneaky.

"And don't even get me started on you lying to get me to swap patrols. Fuck you! You probably changed the practice schedule yourself after you asked McGonagall, just so you had a good excuse!" Damnit, why was she so good at picking up on shit? Draco almost laughed at how well she'd nailed it but opted only to shrug in her direction. When Pansy decided to light you up, it was better not to make a ton of noise.

"So, I'm nothing but protective and considerate, and you decide you'll just pick Granger for a soulmate and not even mention it to me. Actually, I'm fucking pissed at her too. Her and I are best friends at this point, and she didn't say a fucking word!" Pansy shrieked, and now Blaise laughed. All current occupants of Draco's bedroom knew that Pansy and Hermione Granger were tolerating one another better than expected, but Pansy's use of 'best friends' was highly dramatic.

She spun on Blaise. Draco looked on with great interest, stifling his laughter at Blaise's dumb mistake. They all knew better than to find humor - outwardly, anyway – in anything Pansy said when she decided to go after one of them.

"You shut the fuck up, Blaise! I'm not done with you, either. You fucking knew! Did you know when I defended you after our little demon here tried to kill you in the Great Hall?" She screamed, stalking over towards the self-appointed peacekeeper.

"I swear, Pans, I didn't know. I was in the dark about all of it until Thursday," He defended.

"Oh, so you've known for days?" Pansy immediately hissed. Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly, Blaise was handling this like a bloody amateur. Was he fucking new here?

Finally, Blaise smartened up, shutting his mouth and nodding. Pansy taunted his movement, mimicking the wordless agreement enthusiastically, making an ugly face as if that was how Blaise looked.

"Right, so fuck off. Fuck you," Pansy spat, spinning back to Draco, "But fuck you, most of all." Finally, she seemed finished. She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. Just as Draco sat up, preparing to very carefully respond, she changed her mind. He immediately sat back again.

"I know it's pretty bloody embarrassing to admit it, but actually, Draco, this whole thing has honestly just made me feel like shit. Everyone but me knew about it. Like I'm not even a real friend." She said, sounding sad. Oh, Salazar's fucking balls, Pansy knew just how to make him feel guilty.

"I'm really, truly sorry, Pans," Draco said carefully and with sincerity. Her expression softened just slightly, but she kept her arms crossed, her lack of response indicating he could continue.

"I actually didn't want to tell anyone, but Theo and Loony somehow figured it out. Almost before I did, honestly. Then Blaise here started talking about how fit Granger was the other day, and you know me, I get protective," Draco continued, Pansy rolling her eyes.

"She and I hadn't even made any plans for how we'd proceed when this whole thing went to shit earlier. I mean, obviously, she seems pretty fucking charmed by me, but I don't know what's going to happen. But that's not an excuse. I should've told you the moment I was aware that Blaise and Theo knew. It was unfair of me to hold back on you," Draco said before adding, "And you're right, you've been an absolute fucking saint this year. You deserve much better friends," he finished. Draco had thought that many times over the past month but felt now would be a good time to verbalize it.

"Well, at least you've got that part fucking right," Pansy replied. Draco didn't allow himself to smirk at her change in tone. He could tell she was about to forgive him.

"You fucking make a fool of me like that again, I'm going to skin you," Pansy promised. Draco nodded in acceptance. As if she'd ever harm a hair on his head.

"I've only just told my Mother. She's beyond disappointed you aren't my future bride," Draco told Pansy, laying it on thick, knowing how much she loved Narcissa Malfoy.

"She's right to be. If it didn't mean I'd have to fuck you, she'd be my dream mother-in-law. I'll settle for being her favorite of your friends, though," Pansy replied.

"Hey!" Blaise inserted, upset at the notion that Draco's mother liked her better.

"Oh, shut your fucking mouth. You know I'm first, but you still have Theo beat," Pansy rolled her eyes, turning to unlock the door.

"I mean it, both of you," she hissed before walking out the door, "if either of you box me out and humiliate me again, I'm going to go full-out on every last one of your arses."

"Sorry, Pans," Draco and Blaise replied like well-trained dogs in unison. She slammed the door behind her.

"You're in the fucking doghouse, mate," Blaise laughed.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Draco breathed.

Chapter 28: Twenty Eight

Notes:

In which Hermione and Draco embark on public interactions.

SMUT WARNING.

Chapter Text

For the first time in hours, Hermione was in luck. Ginny knocked briefly on the closet door just before eight that evening. Without waiting for a response, she barged into the room, looking a bit frazzled.

"Ah, Hermione. The girl I love most who also managed to upstage my binding to my soulmate with her own mess." Ginny said tiredly as she flopped onto the end of Hermione's bed, sighing loudly before looking over at her friend.

Hermione hadn't considered how unfair it was that Ginny had been forced to deal with this whole thing on the day she and Harry had been hoping would come. In her defense, it was actually Harry's fault for reacting so aggressively, and Luna's for being… Luna.

"I am sorry about that part, Ginny," Hermione told her friend, deciding not to insult Harry aloud in that moment. Ginny sat up and moved up the bed so she could lay next to Hermione, hooking their arms together as they both stared up at the ceiling, for the second time that day.

"It's not your fault. Harry acted like a proper idiot. He had no right to behave that way." Ginny spoke the words for her, so Hermione relaxed and nodded her head.

"He made it up to me, at least," Ginny added with a laugh.

"That's disgusting, Ginny. Please," Hermione cringed.

"Right, sorry – he might as well be your brother," Ginny said with rehearsed amusement.

"Not anymore, he isn't!" Hermione was using her high-pitched voice now.

"Oh, come off it. You know he'll calm down and realize he was being unreasonable. He'll apologize and say he never meant to hurt you, you'll forgive him because you love him too, and then we can get back to focusing on how much better sex is when you're bound," Ginny finished with confidence. Hermione knew she was probably right about the first bit, but she didn't feel like being preemptively forgiving. That, and she was rather distracted by the end of Ginny's statement.

"Ginny, without going into detail about Harry specifically… could you expand on that bonded sex a bit more?" Hermione asked, turning red. Ginny looked over at her and smirked, but complied without teasing.

"Hermione, I know you'll probably never know what unbound shagging is like, now that you've found your soulmate and all, but it is… amazing. Better than I can even explain. There's no comparison. And it was pretty damn good before," she explained, seeming genuinely baffled herself.

Hermione was even more curious.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, not to traumatize you, but Harry has always been pretty good at following my directions. Sex before this was great, and I never cared that I had to be vocal about what I wanted; if I needed him to adjust or stop or start or… whatever else," Ginny wiggled her eyebrows at Hermione, who was surprisingly attentive and capable of ignoring the underlying horror of discussing Harry's sex life.

"I never felt one way or another about making any requests mid-shag. But now… I mean, there's this whole deeper connection at play. I mean, our body parts are still the same and all, but it feels different to be so close to one another when you can feel the bond at the same time. I don't need to say anything, because he can like, feel it before I make a sound. Wait until you do it, Hermione. I don't actually know how you've only managed to dry hump Malfoy's open palm without throwing caution to the wind, come to think of it. If you thought that was good…" Ginny trailed off, lost in thought.

Hermione was amazed by Ginny's description. She knew that her sexual attraction to Malfoy was strong – distracting and overwhelming, at times. But this? How incredible Ginny made it seem? It could become difficult to manage her thoughts.

"Stop thinking about shagging Malfoy. It's scaring me." Ginny deadpanned.

"Sorry. Wait, no, I'm not," Hermione said sincerely. Ginny laughed.

"It pains me to think that you're going to share what Harry and I do with Malfoy, but I think I'm more excited that you'll know what I'm talking about soon enough. If my brother hadn't come knocking, I doubt I ever would have left."

Hermione barely managed a grimace at the thought of Ron interrupting, focused on Ginny's use of the word 'soon.' How soon? When would she get to feel what Ginny was describing? She didn't want to wait.

"By the way, Ron is taking your Malfoy situation much better than Harry did. I think he's feeling a bit sympathetic, actually, but I'll let him explain the details of that." Sympathetic?

"What do you mean by that, Ginny?" Hermione pressed, suddenly capable of focusing her attention on something other than sex with Draco Malfoy.

"It's really not my place to share Ron's business," Ginny tried, probably not even convincing herself with that tone.

"Yeah, I'm not sure if you missed it, but my entire personal life was blown up in front of everyone today. Against my will. So, whatever is going on with Ron, I think I'm good to hear it. And able to treat it with respect and dignity. Unlike some people," Hermione taunted, obviously referring to Harry. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Fine. You've probably earned the right to know, but pretend to be shocked when Ron tells you," Ginny instructed. Hermione nodded.

"It sounds to me like our little Ronnikins might have made a connection today, himself," Ginny said suggestively. Hermione blinked.

"What?!" Hermione asked, taken completely off guard.

"I know. That's why he seemed especially slow on the reading-between-the-lines front today. He genuinely didn't understand you and the Ferret were matched until I said it back at Grimmauld. He was… quite distracted." Ginny was laughing at the memory of her brother being especially thick.

"Who?" Hermione begged, privately amused at the explanation behind Ron's lack of comprehension earlier.

"I know there was a lot going on, but honestly Hermione, I'm shocked you even have to ask. Fucking Parkinson," Ginny said with amusement. Woah.

"Oh my gods! Is that why they were all off to the side and chatty with one another?" Hermione asked with complete amusement and surprise. It actually made total sense, though.

"Yup," Ginny popped the word out, totally at ease.

"No wonder she lost her mind earlier. She was too overwhelmed with her own shit to calmly respond to my whole revelation," Hermione said as multiple puzzle pieces began to click into place.

"I'm not sure if they felt the same thing we did, though. You and Malfoy's emotions were running high, as were mine and Harry's. It sounded a bit more like Ron and Parkinson were easing into it. Everyone is different, I suppose," Ginny shrugged.

That also made total sense to Hermione. She couldn't speak to Pansy's personality quite as well, but Ron was certainly more careful and apprehensive with his feelings. It had taken them seven years to actually try kissing, after all.

"I have so many damn questions about this potion and process, and I'm not in a position to ask any of them!" Hermione was truly appalled at the fact that she couldn't search the library for any answers. It was outrageous! They were all running blind!

"Not the research!" Ginny shrieked ridiculously. Hermione swatted her arm. After a few more moments of laying, her friend moved to stand.

"As much as I love spending time with you, I'm rather tired. Very eventful day," Ginny explained, feigning seriousness.

"Goodnight, Ginny," Hermione laughed as she shook her head. Ginny was almost out the closet door when Hermione called for her to wait.

Without being prompted, Hermione flew across the room, engulfing Ginny in a tight hug.

"Thank you for being such a good friend to me, Ginny. I'm still not totally sure how I'm going to handle all of the Malfoy stuff, but… thank you for today. I feel much more capable of making it through this with you as my friend," Hermione said quietly into Ginny's right ear as the redhead squeezed Hermione extra tight in response.

"You and Ron and Harry have had a hard enough time without all of this shit. The least I can do is help you manage now that we're not being hunted by a murderer with no nose," Ginny comforted. Hermione laughed as she let go.

"Night, Hermione," Ginny nodded as she shut the door behind her.

Maybe everything was going to work out. Hermione felt a sense of calm fall over her for the first time in a very long time. She wasn't lying or hiding from anything, and she wasn't waiting in anticipation of some groundbreaking news. All Hermione had to do now was figure out how to get to know Draco Malfoy better. Without killing him. No big deal.

As Hermione dressed for breakfast, she decided to put her hair back up in that ponytail she'd come to favor recently. She had already pulled on a pair of tights and boots, finally deciding she'd dress up a bit. She'd laid out a skirt and jumper to wear after getting out of the shower but had been thinking she might end up just wearing jeans for comfort. Never mind, that!

Malfoy always looked semi-formal in his button-up shirts and fancy, expensive trousers. He always made her feel underdressed. Not today.

She figured Ginny would probably want to sleep in today but knocked on the closet door before leaving for breakfast.

"No!" She heard Ginny yell, though it sounded rather muffled. Hermione giggled, picturing her friend covering her face with a pillow in her sleepy state. She turned and headed out of her own room, her bag over her shoulder and wand secured in the front pocket of her skirt. She'd actually used a simple expansion charm so that the pocket would be deep enough for her to fit her wand. She was pretty good at those spells, now.

It was nine o'clock. A lot of students would probably wait another half an hour, at least, before heading to breakfast on a Sunday morning, but not Hermione. She could've gone downstairs much earlier – she'd certainly been awake. But something about Malfoy made her want to not seem overly eager. One less punchline for him to hit on, she hoped.

By the time she got to the Great Hall, she'd only seen a few acquaintances in the corridors, none of whom seemed to balk at her existence. Perhaps people didn't know about her and Malfoy yet.

That hope was dashed when she walked into the large room, finding it uncharacteristically full for nine on a Sunday, with almost every set of eyes on her. Bugger.

Hermione steeled her nerves and headed directly for her normal spot at the Gryffindor table. To her shock, Seamus, Dean and Parvati were already there. She wasn't surprised to see Neville – he was typically up early. The other three – not so much.

As she sat down next to Parvati, she realized all of them, including Neville, were staring at her expectantly. Seamus looked a bit pissy if she really wanted to unpack and describe his facial expression. Which she didn't.

"Good morning," she said stiffly, deciding to break the ice herself. They were all absolute children.

"Morning, Hermione!" Parvati exclaimed; her voice most apparent among the round of greetings Hermione received in unison.

She glanced around the room, finding that nearly everyone was still looking at her, but they'd at least begun chatting amongst themselves to cover their eavesdropping. How smart.

Hermione obviously let her gaze wander in a certain someone's direction.

Her breath was momentarily taken away when they locked eyes. Malfoy smirked at her, nodding in greeting from across the room. She tilted her head in acknowledgment but snapped her attention back to her fellow Gryffindors.

"Any plans for today, Dean?" She decided to single him out for some reason. Maybe because he was her favorite of the four, although she liked Neville too, but also because she was testing him. Hermione knew Dean had witnessed the whole explosion yesterday, both inside and outside of the Three Broomsticks.

"Just got quidditch, I reckon," Dean replied, trying to sound as normal as possible. He gave her a slight smile.

"Nice day for it, I think," Hermione agreed. He nodded.

"I think I'll walk around the castle all day. Maybe I'll meet my potion mate and solve the entire thing for Shacklebolt," Seamus said nastily, clearly trying to goad her. He wasn't all that intelligent, and his dig was really missing the mark. Shacklebolt wasn't the one in charge of the potion endeavor, anyway. Hermione actually got the feeling he hadn't wanted to approve the program in the first place. More likely, his hands had been tied.

"Best of luck to you in that endeavor," Hermione bit with false sweetness. Parvati went rigid beside her, while Neville and Dean both looked down at their food uncomfortably.

"You're a right traitor, you are, Hermione. Couldn't believe it at first, but your fookin' attitude this morning says it all, don't it? Defensive because you're doing something wrong," Seamus spat back. He was out of his depth, provoking her, but she understood that it was a lot to digest. She tried to give him another chance to change course.

"Don't make assumptions about why I'm defensive, Seamus. I'm uncomfortable and I feel like a goldfish in this bloody hall while everyone sits and stares at me. I'm not doing anything wrong, nor have I done anything to warrant any character assassinations." Now was Seamus' opportunity to backpedal before she went full out. He'd either show empathy, or he wouldn't, and she felt the latter was much more likely. Hermione truly hoped he'd prove her wrong.

"That's funny. Nothing to warrant judgment. Nothing at all, besides slag around with a bloody Death Eater," Seamus hissed, loudly enough for other people to hear.

Hermione had been prepared for that. She laughed in response.

"You don't know a thing about any of it, Seamus. You're too busy scratching your own balls to make a meaningful connection with any witches, so I do feel for you in that I'm sure it's difficult to see people around you coupling up," she began. Hermione didn't need to look away from Seamus' angry, reddening face to know Neville and Dean were cringing or that Parvati was trying to look shocked and displeased by the conflict.

"But don't presume you know anything about how it feels to have your magical core be sealed by someone else's magic mixing with your own. It's quite intense to be so intimately connected to another person," she spat, standing from her seat without ever touching her toast, "something I'm sure you're not yet mature enough to handle. But I'm rooting for you, Seamus. Really, I am. You'll need all the support and good wishes you can get, seeing as though you're too focused on attacking me for something you don't have any information about to notice how unappealing you are. You're embarrassing yourself, really – it's hard for me to watch," Hermione patronized him without feeling a bit of guilt.

"And don't ever speak on my private or sexual business. I will make you regret it, you daft, emotionally stunted prick. I promise you that." Hermione finished, loudly enough so that everyone paying attention would hear.

Let them all hear her. Hopefully, they'd take some notes and keep her bloody name out of their mouths.

"Fuck you! You're the one fucking-" Hermione cut him off with a laugh.

"Seamus. I'm begging you to please get your emotions in order. The professors are watching," Hermione taunted, turning to look at the stunned faces of their teachers, who seemed too shocked to try to reel it in or, at the very least, look away.

"There's a term for your particular choice of insults, Seamus. Very simple and pathetic – it's called slut shaming, but unfortunately, it requires there to be both a sexist pig like yourself feeling entitled to make comments, and a female with an affinity for frequent sex with many partners, which I don't identify with or see anywhere in the vicinity. Not that there's anything wrong with a woman liking sex, don't you agree?" The hall was dead silent as Hermione looked down at Seamus innocently, as though she hadn't just raked him across the coals in the most public of forums.

It was then she noticed Draco Malfoy standing from his own seat, pulling his bag over his shoulder and strolling in the direction of the Gryffindor table. She couldn't make this shit up.

Turning from her supposed friend, she walked back up the aisle, meeting Malfoy at the very end of the Gryffindor table near the entrance.

He looked positively smitten.

"Fancy a walk to the library, Granger?" He spoke clearly, loud enough so people could hear.

"There's nothing I'd enjoy more," Hermione replied, immediately stomping from the hall as she heard cheers, whooping and laughter beginning to erupt behind her.

"Holy fuck, Granger. You really meant it when you said you saw no reason to hide your shit." Malfoy was nearly crying from laughing so hard. Despite her soaring pride at his amusement, she was seething. She'd actually wanted to punch Seamus but was hesitant to do so in such a setting. She was a bloody prefect, after all.

It also stung that no one had stepped in on her behalf, not that Hermione Granger needed rescuing. It just made her feel ostracized, but Ginny would've gladly relinquished her position as Head Girl to punch Seamus on Hermione's behalf if she'd been there. Hermione was sure of that.

"He's insufferable," was all she managed to respond as they made their way towards the library.

"I'll say. Did you have that line about the slut shaming memorized, just waiting for an opportunity to pull it out? I'm truly, truly impressed." He was still laughing a bit, but Hermione could tell he was dead serious.

"No. It just came to me," she finally laughed back.

"Inspired. And just so you know, Granger, as hot as that was, just give me the go ahead. If anyone ever speaks to you that way again, I'll gladly share my thoughts." He said lowly, sending shivers up her spine as she walked.

"I don't need your protection," Hermione replied quietly, her voice shaking a bit at his close proximity.

"Of course you don't, Granger. But that doesn't mean you don't deserve it," Malfoy answered easily.

She gulped, suddenly desperate for privacy. Without a word, she grabbed his arm, and with as much force as she could muster, yanked him in the direction of an empty utility closet.

Malfoy readily allowed her to drag him as she wandlessly wrenched the door open and then slammed it shut once they were both safely inside.

"Lumos," Hermione whispered, lighting the dark space so they could see one another.

Malfoy looked like he was ready to pounce on her. She wanted him to. But first, she wanted to discuss what she'd heard about… bond sex. From Ginny. She was feeling reckless.

"I'm wondering if you know anyone else who has found their… match," Hermione started squeakily. Malfoy raised one eyebrow, clearly surprised that she seemed to want to talk in there.

"Uh, I guess just Theo and Pucey. I don't really know Weaslette or care to know Potter," Draco said carefully, not sure where she was going with this. Hermione felt her eyes widen as she realized she was in too deep to not explain herself, now. She'd thrown him into a closet, and now she was partially hoping he would pick up on what she was thinking of, despite it being impossible, as she'd not given him the slightest hint.

"Right. Have you spoken in depth with either of them about it?" Hermione continued, trying not to sound like a mouse. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Please, Granger. I'm not like your gems of housemates, Slytherins don't sit around on pretty pillows discussing how much we like a witch," he responded with impatience.

"Shut up. That's not what I meant," Hermione shot back. Now Malfoy looked really confused.

"Please feel free to share what you meant at any time, Granger. I love spending Sundays in broom closets, sharing secrets," he whispered the last part, leaning in as he made fun of her.

She'd wipe the taunts off his handsome, stupid face.

"I meant sex. Have you discussed bonded sex with any of your mates?" Hermione asked as strongly as she could.

His smirk fell, jaw dropping and eyebrows lifting in sheer surprise. He was too stunned to speak.

"Because I wanted to compare notes, see if - I don't know, we could test out a few things. Make predictions. Whatever," Hermione explained breezily, drawing confidence from his clear state of shock.

He coughed, trying to compose himself. She looked up to find him smirking again. He leaned back against the stone wall across from her.

"I'd quite literally rather let Potter curse me again and bleed out on a bathroom floor than hear about whatever weird shit Nott and Loony have tried out. But if I'm being honest, I sincerely doubt Pucey or Theo have gone that far with Patil or Lovegood," Malfoy replied, regaining his composure fully.

"Granger, have you heard anything particularly interesting? Maybe from your best friend the She Weasel?" His eyes bore into her skull and her heart raced.

"I might've," Hermione squeaked. He moved to rub at his jaw with his hand. Why was that so attractive? It was distracting.

"Well this I must hear," Malfoy insisted, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Hermione swallowed, starting to lose her nerve. He picked up on it immediately.

"Don't tell me you're shy, now, Granger. I just watched you put Finnegan's thick head on a bloody pike and walk out of the hall with it," Malfoy said, somehow knowing just how to pull her anger back to the surface. They both knew what he was doing. She channeled the fury, her spine straightening in confidence.

"It's much different than your average sex, from what I hear. Not that I'd know anything about average sex," Hermione began innocently.

"How so?" Malfoy asked, smirking and intrigued.

"Well, according to my source, it took her a bit by surprise. You see, she was already perfectly satisfied with their sex life before taking the potion. She had no previous complaints whatsoever." Malfoy shook his head, laughing.

"That's hard to believe, but I'll take her at her word for our purposes. Tell me what she said it was like after they took the potion, Granger. My curiosity is eating away at what's left of my self control," he stated lowly. Hermione didn't wait to continue.

"She says it was like nothing she could've ever imagined. That even though their bodies were the same on the outside, it felt like it went even deeper. Like they were fucking through the bond," Hermione tried to sound unaffected in her rephrasing of Ginny's explanation. So what if she was embellishing? She didn't think it was a lie.

Before she could say another word, Malfoy had lunged off the wall and had her back pressed against the thick wooden door. She whispered a muffliato, and his eyes grew impossibly darker.

His face was inches from hers, but he wasn't arching down to her level – his hand was on her neck, tilting her head back so she was staring up and into his eyes.

"Fucking through the bond, eh, Granger?" Malfoy asked with great restraint in his voice.

"Apparently," she replied.

"Are you curious about how that feels now too, then?" He questioned, his cool breath fanning across her face.

Hermione nodded slowly, no longer trusting her voice. His fingers tightened where they rested on her neck, his other hand moving roughly to grip her hip. She almost moaned at the pressure.

"Did she say anything else of interest?" He whispered the question in her right ear as he lowered his head closer to hers.

"Just that if it weren't for outside interruptions, they never would've stopped," Hermione half whispered, half groaned.

"I'm going to touch you and snog you now, Granger. If you're agreeable," Malfoy ground out.

Hermione immediately grabbed his face, forcing his mouth against hers with a mutual moan on each of their tongues.

Draco Malfoy had never been this fucking turned on. Ever. Not even close. Not even the other times he'd gotten at Granger. Listening to her talk about fucking your mate had sent him reeling over the edge, unable to restrain himself once she pulled him down to kiss her.

He didn't want to stand.

"Are you going to have a fit if I make you lay on the floor right now?" Draco asked against Granger's lips. He felt her shake her head no. That was all he needed.

Draco yanked himself back from her, pulling her hands forward so she stood up straight, pushing off from the door.

"Lay down," he ordered, unable to insert any sweetness into the request. Her eyes went wide as she moved to sit cross-legged on the ground. He immediately crouched, leaning over her, forcing her to move into a flat position that required she straighten out her legs.

He positioned himself over her, his left leg lying between both of hers as he rested his forearms on either side of her head. Granger was getting impatient with the repositioning. She wrapped her little hands around the back of his neck to pull Draco in for another kiss.

They flicked their tongues out at almost exactly the same time, both deepening the kiss and opening their mouths.

"I could snog you for fucking hours, Granger," he groaned.

"Me too," she replied. He immediately swallowed her words.

They laid in a fucking closet, snogging one another within an inch of their lives, and Draco Malfoy would rather literally die than stop.

"Draco," she moaned, and he immediately ground his hips against hers, unable to stop himself from rubbing against her at the sound of her saying his name. They both choked at the feeling.

"Granger," he replied, sounding less pathetic than he really was as he moved to suck on her neck, right by her ear. She took a sharp breath in at the sensation. He loved how fucking responsive she was.

Her hands moved down to his collar, then drifting towards the buttons, pulling at them as she writhed underneath him. She was clamping her legs tightly on the sides of his thigh and would no doubt have crossed them completely in an attempt to get some relief if he hadn't been in the way.

"Did you want me to take this off?" He asked without teasing, referring to his shirt that she was currently pulling at.

"No. I want to take it off," Granger whined her response. He bit down on her neck in an attempt to prevent himself from letting out a scream.

"Go ahead," he forced out at a normal volume instead.

Granger stopped writhing for a moment as she focused on undoing his buttons. Always the try hard. He couldn't help but grin down at her. She glanced up at him, looking confused as she took in his expression.

"What?" she asked, annoyed.

"You're just… cute," Draco couldn't help it. And it was worth being honest when she smiled shyly back at him before returning her focus to his shirt.

When she had all the buttons undone, he sat back on his haunches to tug it the rest of the way off, grimacing when he noticed his mark.

"Don't fucking care," she breathed, noticing his discomfort as she sat up. He forgot to be ashamed of his idiotic suicide mission when he felt her hands press against his chest, no barrier between them.

He moaned when she leaned forward to trace some of the white, raised scars littered across his chest with her tongue. Courtesy of your friend Potter, he thought for a moment before his eyes shot open. Grangers hands were moving slowly down his chest, over his stomach, stopping on his bloody belt.

Draco retook control, pushing her back down to her previous position on the floor as he started tugging at her own shirt. She pressed up so he could pull it over her head, tossing it behind him somewhere. He looked down to take in the sight of her. She was small compared to him, but not emaciated like she'd been last year. He dragged his hands up her sides, appreciating the slight roundness of her stomach, soft instead of tight from hunger. He glanced down and noticed the scar on her own left forearm. He brushed his fingers over it briefly, feeling awful, remembering what she'd experienced in his home.

"It's so ugly, please don't-" He cut her off.

"Don't fucking care," Draco told her meaningfully, echoing her own words that had comforted his own anxiety. He returned to his previous motions as she visibly relaxed at his reassurance.

As his hands continued on their path upward, Draco and Granger both gasped when he reached the skin just below the cups of her bra. He looked up into her eyes, asking wordlessly for permission to keep touching her. She bit her bottom lip and managed a nod. He rested one arm to the right of her head, using his left pointer finger, dragging it lightly up the center of her chest to rest on the bone there.

"I'm obsessed with every inch of your body, Granger," he told her as she dug her nails into the top of his back where they'd been resting as she tried to maintain her composure. He licked his lips, satisfied at the sensation – he didn't want her to hold back.

"I'm obsessed with the things you say to me when we're like this," she said back, drawing his attention back up to her face. Draco grinned again as he watched her eyes widen, giving away her own surprise that she'd said that out loud.

"I like when you respond," Draco laughed, leaning closer to her as he rubbed at one nipple, then the other, with his free thumb.

Then, his hand began inching south again. Granger's breathing quickened when he rested his hand flat against the skin just above where her tights and skirt began.

"And I like that you didn't wear jeans, just like I requested," he whispered, smirking at her immediate grunt.

"That's not why I wore a skirt. I wore it because you always look so bloody put together. It makes me feel underdressed," she insisted, much to his amusement.

"You could never be underdressed to me, Granger. In fact, I'd prefer you wore no clothes at all." She rolled her eyes, then bit her lip, remembering where Draco's hand was when he tucked it into the top of her tights.

"Can I touch you?" He asked, looking her right in the eye. She nodded.

His hand slipped back up from the tops of her tights, moving to rest at the buttons on her skirt. They seemed to snap open, starting at the top of the fabric, continuing in a straight line down to the hem of her skirt.

"Can I take this off before I touch you?" He wondered aloud, completely fixated on the little movements she made when he touched her low abdomen.

"Yes," she said. He tugged at the top button. It popped open easily.

Draco tugged harder, quickly. He almost lost his balance over her when the whole row of buttons snapped open at once, leaving Granger in just her bra, tights and knickers.

He looked back up at her face as he moved back over her, his fingers dipping back down below the tops of her tights. He thought he'd leave those on, unless he found his ability to move his hand impeded by them.

She nodded as if to tell him he still had permission to touch her. So he moved his fingers down further, below her tights, resting between her legs over her cotton knickers.

Draco gulped as she laid with her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth open slightly in anticipation of him moving his fingers. He could feel the damp warmness under his hand, stifled by her panties.

"Look at me, Granger," her eyes snapped open to meet his.

"I want to see it. Your eyes when I touch your clit for the first time without anything in the way," Draco told her, pleased when she bucked her hips against his hand and then immediately tried to clamp her legs shut. Too bad he was in the way.

"Please, touch me. Now. Under." She begged. Who was he to refuse?

Slowly, he moved his middle finger over her most sensitive spot, dragging the tension upwards as his fingers found their way to the top of her knickers. They dipped underneath the soft material, stopping as Granger continued looking at him, her brows knitting together when he ceased his movements so close to reaching where she wanted him.

"You're sure you want to?" Draco asked, needing to get her permission one more time. He was afraid he'd lose control if he didn't confirm now.

"Fucking. Positive." She ground out, pissy with him now. Impatient Granger was impossibly cheeky.

He smiled down at her as he finally complied, immediately reaching down to drag two fingers along her slit. She was so fucking soft.

But her face was better. She gasped, her mouth hanging open, trying to force her eyelids to stay open even though he could tell how badly she wanted to shut them and get caught up in the moment and feeling of him. Draco shivered.

Without warning, he dipped both fingers inside her folds, near her entrance before dragging them up to rest on either side of her clit.

"You're wet, Granger. Is that all for me?" He asked and started moving both fingers over and around her clit as she nodded.

"I want to hear you say it. That I got you this wet." He spoke in her ear now, continuing his movements as she let out breathy pants below him. He tried not to think too much about his own dick, which was impossibly hard. He knew she could feel it against her thigh.

"I'm going to come in ten… seconds. If you keep. Talking to me. Like that." Granger half cried her choppy sentence. He'd take that.

"Why shouldn't you?" He asked, leaning back to look at her face again.

"Don't want it to be over that fast," she squeaked in pleasure. He could tell she was close after three minutes of him fingering her. He stopped his movements and her eyes snapped back to his. He leaned down to kiss her again.

"Trying to draw it out for you, Granger," he spoke into her mouth and she groaned.

"I didn't say to stop completely!" She bit, her bossy self resurfacing. She screamed when he plunged one finger into her without warning, instantly starting to rock against his hand as he moved it in and out of her slowly.

"More," she begged. He groaned into her neck, drawing his finger out before slowly pushing back in with both his first and middle fingers.

"Agh!" She moaned, still rocking against his hand, trying to make him move faster.

Draco took her moment of distraction to circle her clit with his thumb. She arched her back immediately, inadvertently pressing her breasts into his bare chest.

"Don't stop, ah, oh my god," she cried into his neck as he pressed his thumb harder as he circled, feeling her orgasm at the tips of his fingers, literally.

In a moment of sheer brilliance, Draco decided to curl his fingers inside of her, pressing against her soft insides, still furiously moving his thumb over her clit.

She bit down on his neck and screamed her orgasm.

"Holy. Shit." Hermione was at a loss for all other words besides those.

She flinched as Malfoy drew his fingers out of her, dragging his hand out of her knickers. Then he shocked her again.

He looked at her dead in the eyes and drew the hand that had just been on and in her up to his face. To her horror and complete gratification, he licked the two fingers that had been inside her a minute ago, sucking them into his mouth as she watched him with bug eyes.

"Malfoy-" She was about to express how mortified she was when he popped his fingers out of his mouth, smirking down at her as he moved to place his left hand on the other side of her head, mirroring the right. He was fully over her now. She was trapped. It was perfect.

"You taste like you were made for me to eat," Malfoy told her, his eyes drilling into hers, but his face smiling and content.

"I-" that was as far as she got before he dove down again, snogging her hard, his tongue licking along her bottom lip, begging for entry. She nervously opened her mouth and he groaned into it.

Hermione could taste herself mingled with him, but she was surprised that it didn't bother her at all. She'd been rattled by the thought, but he'd been unmoved, proving her wrong the second his tongue entered her mouth.

Suddenly, she realized just how hard he was against her thigh. Hermione froze with the realization that she wanted to touch him. Maybe even more than she'd wanted him to touch her.

"What?" He asked, concerned and looking down at her. She'd gone rigid with the need to touch him. He thought she was going to shut down – she immediately relaxed, laughing at him.

"Granger, you're confusing the hell out of me," he said honestly.

Hermione stopped laughing and looked up at him, momentarily speechless. He was so fit.

"I want to touch you, too," she pleaded. His eyes widened.

"You don't have to-" Malfoy assured her, but she cut him off.

"I know I don't. I don't have to do anything. I want to touch your dick," Hermione said bravely. He choked.

"How would you feel if you asked to touch me, and I said no?" Hermione hissed.

"I didn't say no, Hermione," he rushed out, almost laughing before they both froze at his accidental use of her own first name.

Her stomach fluttered and her insides clenched. Now Hermione understood why he was so insistent on her using his first name. Hearing him call her Hermione instead of Granger did something to her heart. And other places.

"The rule is mutual, now. Not up for discussion," Hermione stated without missing a beat. Malfoy instantly laughed.

"Understand me now, do you Granger?" He asked, and she found she didn't mind if he alternated. As long as he always sounded that damn playful.

"Mhm," she nodded. He continued to chuckle as she remembered how hard he was.

"Let me," she said, ending all laughter as Malfoy looked back up at her.

"I want you to, it's not that – I just want you to want to. I don't want you to do it because you feel like you have to," he explained. He was being way too sweet and communicative.

"I'm not. I swear. I just really want to. I want to see what you look like. It's not fair you've seen me twice," Hermione insisted.

"Granger, it's perfectly fair. You come, and I almost come just from watching it happen," Malfoy replied easily with a smirk.

"No. I want to," Hermione's voice was getting high pitched and whiny.

Draco sighed, moving off of her and onto his side. His head was propped up on his right arm as his left hand tickled her stomach. She giggled, ticklish.

"Stop!" She cried, and he immediately ceased, still looking bloody proud of himself before speaking.

"If you actually want to get me off, I'm not going to stop you, Granger," he told her quietly.

"Will you show me how you like it?" Hermione asked, and he groaned. She'd been staring at the tent in his trousers, but she snapped her eyes back to his face at the sound. He nodded, seemingly unable to speak. Maybe she wasn't the only one so affected by words.

Hermione stared as he moved his left hand off of her to the top of his own trousers, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. She could see he was wearing dark green boxers. How fitting.

"I don't know if you're aware. I'm a Slytherin," Malfoy explained, and she rolled her eyes, still not peeling her gaze away from where his hand was moving. She moved her own right hand down to press against the outline of his dick, rubbing ever so slightly as she heard him suck in a breath.

Draco reached down, under his boxers, and pulled his penis out. Hermione's mouth hung open slightly at the size.

It wasn't giant or anything, just… significant. And hard. And inches from her own hand. She couldn't believe she was about to do this, something she'd never attempted before, with Draco Malfoy. The entire world had gone mad.

Hermione looked back up at Draco, who was observing her reaction with great interest.

"Show me," she started, "I don't want to do it wrong." He shook his head, laughing.

"Have you ever been wrong in your entire bloody life, Granger?" He asked, and she lifted her chin defiantly instead of responding.

Hermione's eyes snapped back down to his crotch as he took himself into his own hand, beginning to move his grip up and down his length. She just watched him pump up and down for a few moments before he stopped and reached for her hand that was resting on the floor in the space between them, pulling it to him.

"Wrap it around me just like I was doing before," Malfoy instructed, and she immediately did as he said. She was shocked by just how… normal it felt. He was warm and hard, but it was only skin. Some of her nerves faded slightly at that realization.

Hermione began to move her hand up and down, his own hand resting over hers to help her determine speed, and just to let her get adjusted. After a handful of pumps, she swatted him away, wanting to do it on her own.

Malfoy pulled his hand back, lifting it in surrender.

"So bossy," he teased, moving his now free hand to rest on her side again as they faced each other. She sat up a bit more to get a better angle.

"Does it feel like when you do it?" Hermione asked, glancing up at his face. He was staring at her, his eyes dark but with lids drooping and his mouth slightly open, just like hers had been before.

"Better," he insisted, and she believed him for some reason, even though it was impossible. Hermione had been jerking him off with no prior experience for only a few minutes. He'd been doing it for years.

"Why?" She asked, genuinely curious for him to explain. She continued pumping her hand over him, deciding to twist her wrist slightly as she moved her hand upward, brushing her thumb over the tip. It was leaking a bit, small droplets of some milky-looking liquid. He gasped, obviously pleased.

"Because you're the one doing it," Malfoy responded without any further explanation. It made complete sense to her, though, because she felt the same way when he touched her. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, just for a moment before moving back again, unable to maintain the strength of holding himself up as pleasure swept over him.

Hermione leaned forward, sucking at his neck, just like he'd done for her.

"I'm gonna come," Malfoy told her breathily. She kept going.

"Fuuucccck," he strained, tilting his head back in pleasure. She could tell he was close and kept pumping, quickening her pace instinctually.

Suddenly, white liquid was shooting out as he groaned his release. She slowed her movement, looking down at the untidiness between them.

"Sorry," Malfoy breathed. She laughed and he shakily grabbed his wand from his back pocket, waving it to vanish the mess.

They just laid there next to each other, breathing for a few moments before anyone spoke.

Hermione glanced around at the little closet they were in, taking in the small, dark space. At least it was clean. It was also completely empty of supplies or junk.

"Quite an atmosphere I've chosen," Hermione commented. He laughed.

An hour later, Hermione and Malfoy were sitting in the library, across from one another at her favorite table.

They'd both been way ahead on Arithmancy, much to her excitement. She was quite pleased with how studious he was, despite his feigned carelessness. Hermione had known he was smart – his marks were always just shy of matching her own – but she hadn't anticipated that he, too, might work far ahead of the assignment schedule. Another interesting trait they had in common.

Hermione was staring at him, her head tilted slightly to the right. Malfoy glanced up from his Charms essay – the same one she'd finished earlier that week.

"What?" He asked, his eyes narrowing at her.

"Nothing," she whispered back, "I just find it surprising how far ahead you are in your classes. I expected you probably just did everything all at the last minute," she finished.

Malfoy gave her a strange look.

"On the one hand, I'm offended that you think I'd be so flippant about my education," he said, his features beginning to shift into their usual smirk, "on the other, I can't argue with the assumption. Obviously, I'm naturally gifted and intelligent enough to throw everything together and still be second only to you, Granger." Hermione crossed her arms at the way he'd twisted her words.

Malfoy shook his head at her, returning to his work.

Hermione couldn't help but be pleasantly shocked by nearly everything she'd learned about him in the past few hours. First, he'd been a complete gentleman when she started to move to right herself following their activities in the closet. Draco Malfoy had actually turned while he zipped his trousers and adjusted his own clothing, giving her unexpected privacy to redress.

When he'd turned back around, she was fully dressed, mildly confident she looked perfectly put together. Hermione had been focusing on appreciating just how unruffled he looked, not even wrinkled, she thought, when she jumped at his laughter.

"What?" She'd demanded as he stepped closer to her.

"Nothing, Granger. Your clothes are just as they were. Your hair, on the other hand…" he'd trailed off, laughing with her now as she giggled and pulled her elastic from her mane. He'd even nodded moments later, as she refastened it, to indicate her ponytail was back to its rightful state.

As Hermione glanced down at the parchment in front of her, back in the present in the library, she couldn't help but feel sort of… giddy.

Not only had he been considerate, but Draco Malfoy had also left no room for her to feel awkward around him after their hookup. Hermione had expected him to be a bit cold, or distant, and in turn had predicted she herself would feel desperately unsure in response.

But Malfoy hadn't done that at all. He'd just glanced out the door into the corridor, making sure no one was passing by, and held it open for her as she led him out, both of their bags over their shoulders like they had been before. He'd instantly resumed their usual banter. Like it was completely normal for the two of them to be walking about the castle together, sparring about nothing in particular, after they'd gotten each other off.

"What the fuck are you thinking about over there, Granger? You're about to drool," Malfoy whispered from across the table.

"Shut up!" She hissed back, refocusing on her Herbology textbook, scribbling down a note on the afore-mentioned parchment.

Chapter 29: Twenty Nine

Notes:

In which the first quidditch match of the year is fast approaching.

Chapter Text

The next two weeks had gone by much in the same way as that first Sunday Draco and Granger spent together, after they'd decided to stop pretending they weren't potion mates. He'd been relatively shocked by how quickly their groups of friends seemed to adjust. Well, her friends, anyway, since his friends were never really the issue. Draco supposed that it helped to have Weaslette setting a good example.

He found himself liking Weasley more by the day, honestly. Not that he'd say it out loud. He just appreciated how protective she was of Granger, who obviously needed no one's help in defending herself. It was just comforting to Draco that if Finnegan or anyone else decided to have a go at Granger, Weasley would bite their bloody heads off without hesitating. She'd even been putting her best foot forward with Draco himself, opting to not ignore him completely. Although, to his displeasure, she hadn't let him take her unassigned seat next to Granger in their other classes.

The Friday night before the first quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor against Hufflepuff – Draco wished they both could lose – he'd been watching Granger during dinner, as he often did. But he noticed quickly that her movements were tense and that she looked stressed. Draco glanced around at the people seated in her direct vicinity, trying to determine if one of them had said something to upset her, but nothing seemed amiss. Even Finnegan looked to be completely at ease.

Speaking of Finnegan, he was another Draco had been surprised by. After Granger had made him a bloody eunuch at breakfast a couple of weeks ago, he seemed to have had some sense knocked into him. Whether it had been Granger, Weasley or Thomas to do it, he didn't know – but Granger seemed to have kept things moving as far as he was concerned. She didn't seem particularly fond of him, but they were back to interacting with each other the way they had before. Fine by Draco, as long as no one was going after Granger or making her feel bad. That was another thing he'd become better adjusted to over the past two weeks. Instead of being mortified by feeling more at ease when Granger was content, Draco started feeling inclined to act based on her mood. If she was pissy or down, he tried to distract her or make her laugh. If Granger seemed happy, he tried not to fuck it up. Was this what being in a respectful, committed relationship was like?

He shook off that last bit, refocusing on figuring out why it was that Granger seemed upset. Draco could tell just by her body language that something was off, and he mentally congratulated himself for being so good at reading her after just a few weeks of knowing her this way. He could even tell that she was upset by her failure to look over at him, although he could also sense she wasn't avoiding him. Just genuinely distracted and jumpy.

Draco and Hermione had already made plans for that evening, so he figured now was as good a time as any to walk over to retrieve her. It wasn't as though she was eating.

"Hey, Drake, you alright?" Pucey asked, noticing how distracted Draco was.

Draco and his quidditch co-captain also had smoothed over any tension. They hadn't discussed things at length but seemed mutually aware and considerate of the other's relationship woes. Draco had to admit it was sort of… nice. Having a friend who understood a bit of what he was feeling. Theo was so fucking weird; it didn't even comfort him to know they were in the same boat. They weren't really, as far as Draco was concerned. Lovegood was nice enough, but he really didn't fucking care to get to know her better, especially not after she'd caused that whole scene at the Three Broomsticks.

"Fine. I'm just finished eating," Draco said, not saying why it was he was finished.

"You know, we all have eyes, Draco. We've noticed you staring over at the mudb- at Granger," Astoria taunted. He glared at her, knowing what word she'd nearly used. Bitch.

"Fuck off," Draco responded, shrugging her off as he nodded a farewell at the rest of his friends, who he knew were likely aware that he'd have made plans with Granger tonight.

That was one thing that he hadn't yet gotten used to. Openly discussing her with his mates. It was private, first off, but he also just couldn't adjust to kind-of dating Hermione Granger and sharing any information about it with his friends. Draco had never been one for personal disclosures, but in the past, he'd at least bragged to them about the witches he'd shagged and provided some of the more exciting details. Now, his stomach turned at the thought of them knowing anything about what he did with Granger. None of their fucking business.

Draco stood, glancing back over at Hermione. She was looking at him now, then turning and speaking to her housemates, likely excusing herself as well.

He started toward the exit, waiting at the big doors while Granger hurried in his direction. He glanced over her shoulder and found that a pretty large portion of their classmates stared at them wide-eyed. Fucking dolts still hadn't gotten used to seeing them together.

"Hi," Granger said as she met him, both of them turning to walk out of the Great Hall.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, Granger?" Draco immediately asked as they began walking towards the doors leading out to the courtyard. They were going to go down to the lake – a chill had begun to settle in the air, but it was still nice enough to go for a walk in the evenings.

"My day was fine, thank you for asking!" Granger responded, annoyance clear in her tone.

"Oh, give me a break. I was with you all day. I don't need to ask for a play by play, nor do you actually want to give me one," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. She scowled at him.

"I am serious, though. I can tell you're pissed about something. We can talk about it now, or you can be miserable all night, it's your call," he told her.

"Would it kill you to be a bit sweeter when asking, Draco? I mean, if you can so easily tell I'm out of sorts, why is it that you start off the conversation by being a prat? I mean, really? Asking me what's got my knickers in a twist?" Granger replied as he steered them towards one of the benches at the edge of the courtyard. It gave them a bit of privacy, and he wanted to force the bad mood out of her before they went to walk by the lake. He wanted to enjoy the bloody evening, was that a crime?

"I don't do sweet, Granger. That shouldn't come as a surprise," Draco sneered as he took a seat on the bench, immediately stretching his arm to rest along the back of it as she sat next to him.

How quickly times had changed. When he'd done the same thing in Arithmancy just weeks ago, she'd nearly cursed off his balls. Now she didn't even flinch.

"You should try it sometime, Malfoy," Hermione told him, wrinkling her nose in his direction. He just sat silently for a few moments, knowing she was picking a fight. He wasn't biting, though. Draco knew she was pissed about something else, not at him.

"Harry and Ronald and the rest of the Weasleys will be here tomorrow for Ginny's first match," Granger finally said, sounding nervous. Ah, there it was. He waited for her to continue.

"I'm just nervous to see them all. I know they've seen the papers, but I haven't spoken to Ron or Harry since Hogsmeade. I just don't know what to expect from them and I've been ignoring it as much as possible, but now that it's tomorrow, I'm getting uptight," Granger explained. Right. 'Getting' uptight. Plain old uptight wasn't her baseline or anything.

"Well, as previously stated, I'm more than happy to intervene on your behalf, Granger," Draco told her, opting not to patronize her about the uptight bit.

"Shut up, Draco. In fact, I'd like you to give me your word in advance that you won't do anything to further agitate the situation," she instructed, using an extra-annoying voice.

"Fuck off, Granger. I'm a perfect rule-follower," Draco defended, referring to their mutual rules for behavior. And it was true. For the most part.

"I'm serious. I have no idea if I'll still be friends with them after tomorrow, and I don't need the added stress of you being a bigger tosser than usual," Granger said quietly.

She actually sounded sad, like she truly thought the idiots would notify her tomorrow they'd be cutting her out of their lives for being with him. Fucking Christ, she knew just how to make him feel bad for her. Draco blinked, thinking about how even his internal monologue was now using Granger curses – Christ was becoming a frequent go-to.

"Give me a bit more credit, Granger. You don't need to worry about my charming self getting between you and the dolts. But if Potter says anything out of order, I'm not going to let him fucking lean into it," Draco told her. She nodded.

"I'm not as worried about Ron. Ginny said he reacted surprisingly well off the bat, so I'm sure a couple of weeks to absorb it has only helped matters. But Harry was so cold when he owled me, and he hasn't written me since," Granger whined.

"What owl?" He asked immediately, not remembering her mentioning anything about that before.

"After Hogsmeade. Before Ginny got back to school, Harry sent me an owl. I won't elevate it by calling it an apology – I mean, he said sorry in it, but his use of the word was meaningless. He never asked how I was or anything. Just told me it was 'going to take getting used to' and that he'd see me at Ginny's game," Draco almost laughed at the way Granger's voice changed when she was mocking Potter's words. He didn't though – he probably would have if she was just pissed, but he could tell Potter's stupid fucking letter had actually hurt her feelings.

"You didn't tell me that fucking idiot wrote you," Draco replied.

"Well, I burned it immediately. And then told myself I wasn't going to waste any time thinking about Harry if he was going to be such an arse," she explained, and he did actually smile at that.

"You were right about that, Granger. If he's going to be such a bitch about it, it's not worth your time or energy. Not like we fucking chose this to spite Potter," Draco told her, his voice dripping with disdain when he said Potter's name.

Granger was looking down at her hands and picking at her fingernails.

"I know. But regardless of whether you care what he thinks, Harry is still my best friend," she told him. Draco felt a bit of jealousy at that declaration but tried not to focus on it. She was bloody upset. It wasn't the time for him to be all Malfoy about her relationship with two stupid males.

"And I'm doing my best to live with that," Draco replied, tugging on one of the curls she left out of her ponytail.

Granger glanced up at him and he noticed how affectionate of a gesture playing with her bloody hair was. He dropped his hand back to the top of the bench.

"You're allowed to play with my hair you know, Malfoy. It's sweet," Granger taunted, clearly circling back to her earlier point about his lack of 'sweetness.'

"I'd prefer to yank on it, Hermione," Draco emphasized her first name, "pull it hard while I-" but she cut him off before he could further describe his fantasy.

"Stop it. Not the time," Granger rolled her eyes at him. They both knew it was always the time, but he let her continue.

"So yes, I'm stressed and anxious. Now you know why."

Draco decided to be a good guy for a moment.

"I'm sorry you've been all fucked up about this. Potter's a bitch for handling it that way, but we did shock the world a bit. Just ask Skeeter," he told her, and she immediately scowled at the mention of the Prophet's most detestable columnist.

News of their bonding had become public knowledge early last week. Draco and Granger had both received countless owls, but neither of them gave it the time of day by responding. He was glad they were at school, because at least here, they were safe from the press. None of those leeches were allowed on the grounds, and they'd both avoided Hogsmeade like the plague last weekend.

Blaise had been proven right by Narcissa Malfoy. When he and Granger's unlikely union first made the front page of the paper, Draco's mother had been quoted in the article – Draco had actually smiled when he read it. Something about how Granger was exceedingly bright, seemed like a perfectly suitable match for him, and that she was never anything less than totally supportive of her son.

She'd resumed their usual correspondence around the same time and even inquired about when she'd be properly introduced to Granger. Draco hadn't been ready for that discussion yet.

"I know," Granger's little sad voice brought him back to the here and now, "I just don't want everything to change just because we're… whatever we are," she said.

That reminded him.

"Right, well speaking of that, what am I supposed to be calling you to others, Granger?" Draco asked, intrigued.

"I don't know," Granger replied, looking nervous.

"Well, seeing as though I can't remember the last time my dick twitched at the thought of anyone but you, I'd say we're definitely… an item. Would you agree, Granger? You're not off shagging Finnegan behind my back, are you?" Draco taunted. She laughed.

"Of course not. I'm not shagging anyone. Including you," Granger had him there. They still hadn't gone beyond using their hands on one another, but Draco found he didn't mind. He was fine going at whatever pace she was comfortable with.

He could almost die at the respectfulness of it all.

"Don't remind me. We fuck like veela in my dreams each night," Draco told her, enjoying how she immediately blushed at the mention of his sex dreams about her.

"I do believe that's sort of the point, by the way. Only having interest in one person. The potion was designed to help us all recognize the strength of compatibility. No one else seems to compare when you find someone who matches you in nearly every sense," Granger instructed. Always the resource, she was.

"Weird to think about it that way," Draco replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Just… odd. Not bad. Just odd to think that based on the information we do have about the potion; I'm never going to want to fuck anyone else ever again. Bloody romantic, isn't it, Granger?" Draco asked.

"Not when you say it like that," she cringed, and he knew it wasn't. But he meant what he said.

"Well, it's true. Fancy a walk by the lake, sweetheart?" Draco asked, obviously messing with her. He'd never use such a word, no matter how intense his feelings were about Granger.

"Of course, darling," Granger bit back at him. She never failed to match him blow for blow.

Draco stood from the bench, satisfied that her mood had improved now that she'd gotten the bit about the wonder fucks off her chest. He held his hand out to her politely, offering to help her up, and she breezed right past him. Bitchy.

"Tell me Granger, what time should I plan to meet the Weasleys in my new capacity as the love of your life?" He asked, quickly moving to walk beside her.

"Didn't we just agree you wouldn't exacerbate the tension?" Granger asked.

That was true. But he wanted to be with her when she saw the twits tomorrow, even if that meant he might have to be in the vicinity of the Weasley bunch.

"I'm not going to let you walk into that shit by yourself," He spat. Honestly, did Granger really think he'd let her throw herself to the wolves? Not that he really thought anyone would be that bad, considering Weaslette's immediate stamp of approval. It was really only Potter that concerned him.

"Why?" Granger asked, sounding genuinely interested in hearing his answer.

"You know how I feel about you, witch. Possessive, protective, obsessive, whatever word you want to use. And I don't want you feeling attacked. Even if Potter is planning to get on his bloody knees to beg for your forgiveness, which he'd fucking better be, you shouldn't have to be all by yourself."

Hermione's heart fluttered at his answer. You know how I feel about you, witch.

She supposed she sort of did. Hermione knew how she felt about Malfoy, feelings that she couldn't put in words and that grew stronger by the day. She could only imagine he was experiencing something similar.

Despite the fact that Hermione truly detested bonehead displays of masculinity when men were jealous or possessive, Draco's brand of it was different. He didn't make her feel like he thought he owned her or could control her. He didn't even seem to believe she needed his help or protection – she didn't. But Draco Malfoy still wanted to be there for her and present regardless of that. And she had to admit… she liked the idea of having him be there when she saw Ron and Harry for the first time. Even the thought of seeing all the Weasleys – she was overwhelmed at that prospect when she didn't know how Harry and Ron would receive her. It was too much, and Ginny was going to be playing in her match, unable to serve as a buffer.

"Okay," Hermione said quietly.

"Okay? You're not going to throw a fit?" Draco asked, genuinely shocked.

"I think it'll make me feel better if you're there. Don't ask me to explain why, Draco – it just does. As long as you swear not to patronize them," Hermione's pitch heightened as she finished.

She glanced over at him and found that he was grinning at her. He looked… satisfied.

"What?" She asked, blushing.

"I like that you want me to go with you. I don't… enjoy doing things. That you don't want me to do. Don't ask me to explain why, Hermione – I just don't," he answered, using her own words.

Hermione laughed at that, immediately understanding what he meant.

They made their way down the path to the banks of the Black Lake, the sunset probably another hour away. It was chilly outside, but not cold. Her favorite time of year, really.

Hermione suddenly wanted to hold his hand while they walked along the water. She grabbed his hand in hers, and he jumped before letting her entwine their fingers.

"How sweet, Granger," he said, sounding kind of off his game. She smirked at their continued use of the word sweet this evening.

"Some of us know how to be sweet," Hermione replied. She loved how it felt to walk with him like this. It was bizarre how well they fit together; how easy it was to just do normal couple things with Draco bloody Malfoy. Were they a couple?

"Am I… your girlfriend?" Hermione immediately exclaimed, just now considering the label. She started thinking of his earlier question about what he should call her. She'd been too distracted with her anxiety to recognize that he might be asking about their relationship status.

"No – I mean, I don't know?" Draco was startled by the abruptness of her question, she could tell.

She tried to yank her hand from his, but he just held onto it tighter.

"What do you mean no? Let go of my hand!" Hermione felt the embarrassment creeping up.

"Don't start that shit, Granger. You caught me off guard. Don't get all fucking bitchy just because I balked at your sneak attack," Malfoy hissed, angry at her for trying to withdraw.

That was another thing Hermione couldn't believe about their dynamic. He could always see right through her, and when she tried to go all flight instead of fight, he grounded her. He literally held her in place so she couldn't run from their issues. He was so annoying. And yet the depth of their compatibility, their ability to compliment one another's moods and impulses… it stunned her.

"I want to know what I am to you if you're going to insist on escorting me to see the Weasleys and Harry tomorrow. Unless you'd like me to say something like, 'Molly, Arthur – this is Draco Malfoy. He used to be a Death Eater and call me mudblood, but now we're soul bonded and he fingers me almost daily.' Is that your preference?" Hermione spat, knowing she was being terrible. She knew it pained him when she brought up the slur he used to use, but she couldn't help it. When she was angry or defensive, she went below the belt. It's how she was.

He stared at her with a harder expression than she'd seen on him in… honestly, maybe ever. Yikes. Hermione had pushed him too far. She braced for impact.

"Fine, Granger. Fuck you – you can go it alone, tomorrow. Tell them whatever the fuck you want. I'm done." His grip on her fell and his words cut through her. She gasped at the pain she felt when he'd said 'done' and tried to let go of her hand.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked, now squeezing his hand hard in her own, grabbing his wrist with her other as she tried to prevent Malfoy from yanking his fingers back.

"No. I'm sick of you always throwing that in my face. You never stop with that shit. I told you already, I'm not going to be your fucking punching bag, Granger." Malfoy yelled at her, and she winced. He never raised his voice.

"Draco, please – I didn't mean it. I'm really sorry. I won't do it again. It's not fair – you go out of your way to make me feel better and I throw low blows at you anytime I feel like it. It's wrong," she rushed out, trying to tug him closer to her.

Hermione hated how toxic she could be.

"You say that every fucking time."

"But I mean it this time," Hermione begged him to believe her.

He looked down at her, pain and anger in his eyes. She wanted to flinch and look away but held his gaze.

"If you fucking pull that again, Granger, I mean it. I'm done. I don't care how badly it hurts me to be away from you. I'm not going to let you treat me that way. You don't get to drudge that up any time you feel a little upset. It's fucked up."

She barely felt any relief even though she knew he was forgiving her. Hermione suddenly felt like she was about to start crying.

"Are you about to fucking cry right now?" He said incredulously. That did it. Hermione choked back a sob.

"I'm sorry. I can't – I can't handle how I feel about you s-sometimes," Hermione stumbled over her words, her vision blurred by tears. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried this uncontrollably in front of another person.

"I don't fucking understand you!" He exclaimed, running his hands through his hair in distress.

"I know. I don't know why I always have to do that. I h-h-hate it about myself," Hermione needed him to stop being angry with her so she could try to stop crying. The idea of him breaking things off made her feel like she was going to die.

Hermione felt like she was going mad. There was no way it was normal to feel this strongly about someone you'd only been seeing for just shy of a month. No matter how long she'd known him before that.

"Calm down," Draco told her firmly.

"I c-can't! You said you're done, and I don't – I want," Hermione felt herself on the verge of a panic attack for some reason.

Suddenly, he was standing in front of her again, his hands holding the sides of her face, forcing her to look up at him.

"You need to fucking breathe, Granger. I'm right here. I'm angry with you, but I'm not leaving you," Draco said firmly. Hermione tried to take a deep breath as she nodded.

"I'm sorry though. I need you to know I mean it," she begged him. Why was she being so desperate and crazy?

"I know."

Hermione stood on her tip toes.

"Can you please kiss me?" She was still begging, desperate to be closer to him so she could be sure he wasn't going to end things with her.

He immediately dipped his head, kissing her firmly without trying to deepen it. That was okay – she still felt reassured.

"You've got to stop with the toxicity and mood swings, Granger. I don't know where it comes from, but I don't think it's really anything to do with me. I can be an asshole, but nothing I said warranted your reaction. Then you hyperventilate when I say I won't tolerate it. You've got abandonment issues or something, and I don't quite understand it," Draco said quietly, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks gently. It was a comforting gesture despite the gravity of his words.

"It's my parents," Hermione whispered, shocked by how easily the words flowed out. She knew it was true. Draco looked at her in total confusion.

"Can we walk, please?" She asked, reaching to interlock their fingers again. He let her.

"Are you going to explain what you meant by that, Granger?" Draco asked with uncertainty, and she nodded. But she didn't want to look at his face when she told him. She wanted to be walking and looking ahead of her. She hated the stare people gave her when she told them. She used her occlumency to slam the memories of different faces falling at her words into their own books, placing them on a very high shelf. Not the time.

Draco let her lead the way as they began to walk along the lake.

"I obliviated my parents. Last year. Before Harry, Ron and I left."

She felt his shock but continued.

"I didn't know how else to protect them. I planted a seed about Australia when I did the spell – they've always talked about visiting," Hermione continued, and he squeezed her hand tighter.

"Are they-" Draco stuttered, unable to say the words. He sounded guilty, like it'd been his fault. She hated it.

"They're alive – they're happy and healthy and have no idea they have a daughter," Hermione choked out.

"Granger – I'm sorry," Draco sounded so full of pity. She cringed but found she didn't hate it as much when it came from him.

"It's no one's fault. But I just – when the war ended, everything was so hard. And I felt like I was never going to feel happy again. Fred was dead, Tonks and Remus were dead – I just – I couldn't stomach the idea of another loss. If my parents were safe and out of sight, I felt like I could just try to grieve everyone else before having to find out if I was ever going to be able to reverse it. So I didn't go to Australia. I just pretended like it was a matter to be handled much later on, and I've tried my best to ignore the fact that it's hanging over my head at every fucking turn," Hermione breathed, feeling her heart splintering inside her chest.

"So many people I love are dead. I just can't let them be dead, too. Because if I can't restore their memories, they're gone. It'll be too confusing for them and painful for me to try to see them if they're always going to be Wendell and Monica Wilkins. I can't do it. I can't let the Grangers be dead. Not yet," Hermione felt the tears on her cheeks. He pulled her into his arms as she let her tears soak his jumper.

She pulled back to look at him.

"And so when I tell you I'm sorry, and that I don't know why I have to try to sabotage this when I sense the most minute tension, I mean it. It's only now dawning on me how desperate I am to protect myself from caring about and losing anyone else. I can't – Malfoy, I can't handle it. I will not come back from it. I'm too broken up inside," Hermione told him, being honest with herself for the first time about her feelings and how controlled she was by the fear of losing her parents. The fear that they might already be lost, and that she'd only been putting off confirming it.

"I understand now, Granger. And I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you make me," Draco told her, his sincerity knocking the wind out of her.

"And you have my word. I'm not going to stir anything up with your friends. Or the Weasleys. For whatever bloody reason, you love them, and I'm not going to mess with that." Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck in another hug, squeezing him as hard as she could.

How was it that he was able to say exactly what she didn't know she wanted to hear?

"Thank you," Hermione whispered as he held her.

"And, if it's alright with you, you can tell them I'm your boyfriend."

She smiled.