October and the first days of November at Hogwarts passed idly by - compared to the first half of the term, anyway. Slytherin had narrowly beat out Ravenclaw in the second quidditch match of the year. Hermione was shocked to be pleased by that result, even if it was only because she was in love with one of the team captains.
Ginny had taken to spending a couple evenings each week with Harry with approval from McGonagall. It seemed to quell the worst of the separation side effects – though it was only a temporary solution. There was no way around such absences – they were necessary for Ginny's sanity – but having the Head Girl off the grounds so regularly felt unsustainable.
Hermione had added regular check-ins with McGonagall to her schedule at the Headmistress' request. It wasn't such a chore. She'd always had a close relationship with her professor; one that only grew from the war. The reason for such meetings was far less pleasant than casual conversation, however. Hermione and McGonagall had gone over all things related to the potion with painstaking precision. They'd deduced that it was very likely, if not definitely, the case that the different reactions were based on the Ministry's failure to anticipate legitimate soulmates when creating the potion. Hermione had spoken separately to Ron and Pansy to get an idea of the way they'd been feeling. Neither of them described a painful sensation in their chests – they also hadn't experienced the click that had been characteristic of Hermione's matching. It sounded much more like a gradual sense of rightness settling within them the more they spent time together. Just as she'd imagined, they'd felt drawn to one another initially – something that surprised both parties – but not an unavoidable magnetism. They were able to move at a normal pace in their relationship – if you could even call it that. Ron and Pansy were in the very early stages of dating. Pansy had specifically told Hermione that she might not have known it was the potion drawing them together had her match not been Ron Weasley. Granger, up until last month, I would have told you quite easily that I'd rather die than date a Weasley. Pansy was such a gentle, sweet soul.
Hermione was a bit unsure what to make of Padma and Luna's relationships. She felt that Padma and Adrian were fairly likely to experience the most destructive aspects of the potion if separated – but the theory hadn't been tested. Both seemed to identify with the clicking sensation that she and Ginny had felt, but Hermione couldn't tell whether they were as obsessive as she and Malfoy and Harry and Ginny. Luna and Theo, on the other hand, were so content and good-natured at their baselines that it was hard to tell whether it was actually their personalities making them present as definite soulmates. Theo had described a sort of popping sensation in his chest after taking the potion, but Luna's description was decidedly less specific.
Hermione had ultimately chosen not to include either couple in her narrative – not because they weren't equally interesting dynamics to examine, but because they could more easily be dismissed by the Office for Magical Compatibility. The grey areas those two matches presented were entirely too convenient for someone like Florence Shiptrill to have at her disposal. She'd pick them apart.
Hermione had deduced, through her meetings with the Headmistress, that there were undoubtedly at least a few other couples at Hogwarts alone experiencing the adverse effects of taking the potion. She respected McGonagall's commitment to confidentiality. Of course she did.
But she also felt irritated by the lack of information. Hermione would have liked to be able to ask all of them questions and see if there were any useful parties among her peers – potential collaborators she could work with, even. Oh well. She'd settle for painstakingly observing people she didn't know very well – or at all – in the Great Hall at meals.
One thing that Hermione was incredibly curious about were the people outside of her own bubble dealing with the potion's unintended impacts. What about soulmates who were in their 20s, 30s and beyond who'd been forced to take the potion, but had never met the other? What about those that were already in relationships with someone else, despite being unwed? That sounded particularly devastating to Hermione – it was the worst possible outcome they'd anticipated prior to Ginny and Harry confirming they were a match. It was the same reason she'd been relieved that she and Ronald had ended things before they knew about the mandate. It would all be too hard.
Or what about people who took the potion, had a soulmate, but would be waiting a very long time for them? Because their match was already married to another, thus exempt from the mandate? Oh gods, their match wouldn't even know they were destined for divorce. Or maybe they weren't. But what about if some soulmates never crossed paths, or one of them died tragically before they could meet? Would they just never be fulfilled, incapable of relationships because the potion had made it so? Did it make the strength of soulmate dynamics all the more powerful?
Hermione filed those ideas away for later research. She put a mental asterisk next to her consideration of people without matches by the end of the year – they would be very useful to speak with for her case against the Ministry. Especially since, if this were all really about mere compatibility like Florence said in the beginning, there'd be no reason for everyone not to have coupled up by next September. The Office had never used words like soulmates in their official press releases, and now, Hermione wondered if that had been a coincidence. Of course, colloquially, people had begun to refer to the whole thing as such. But Florence had never used those words, and now, it seemed far too convenient. Hermione had honestly assumed prior to taking the potion that there might be more than one possible match out there for her. Whichever one she met first would simply be her endgame. She would never have known otherwise. Another question she'd be adding to her list to be researched in her case against the Ministry.
And Hermione would, without a doubt, be making a case against the Ministry. It was a matter of when, not if.
When Hermione received a late-night note from Minerva about meeting on the first Saturday morning of November, she'd readily accepted. She had a hunch that her professor wanted to be as helpful as possible without being officially involved in whatever endeavor Hermione undertook once she graduated. She understood it would put the Headmistress in a particularly compromising position to be involved in such a polarizing issue – but she'd help as much as she could for as long as she could. Being at Hogwarts with her mentor gave very useful cover for their constant collaborations – but once Hermione was gone, it would become more curious to others if they still met multiple times a week. Suspicious, even. Especially if she herself was in the midst of a public crusade. Which she planned to be.
Hermione thought of Draco, of course, as she made her way through the corridors towards the Headmistress' office. She'd been incredibly busy with her digging, and he'd been quite interested in it as well. She loved how they seemed to match each other in almost everything. Except quidditch.
As Hermione uttered the password to McGonagall's guardian, she made a mental note to actually check on the state of the Room of Requirement after breakfast. She and Malfoy had been making do with time spent in their respective dormitories, but they hadn't had any sleepovers since that first one. It was too complicated to try to scurry back to their rooms and hide where they'd been. McGonagall had told Hermione that she would make exceptions for them, but she hated the thought that others might feel she was operating above the rules. Another reason, Draco told her, why they needed to get out of Hogwarts. He was positively exhausted by her need to honor her prefect position by following all the rules herself, and to be totally honest, so was she. But she'd been even sicker of feeling like a hypocrite over the past few weeks. Hence their lack of sleepovers.
She found Professor McGonagall sitting in one of the chairs by the fire in her large office. Hermione made her way over, slightly confused by the Headmistress' location. Normally, they sat at her desk, jotting things down and looking through textbooks.
"Good morning, Professor," Hermione greeted, sitting in the other chair by the fireplace. McGonagall instantly turned to her.
"My apologies, Miss Granger. I didn't even hear you arrive. I suppose I'm a bit lost in my thoughts," the witch explained.
"Oh, there's no need to apologize," Hermione insisted, "is everything alright? You're not normally one to be lost in your thoughts."
That was true. McGonagall was nothing if not focused.
"I'm afraid our meeting today will be of a slightly different subject matter than usual," the elder witch replied, sounding a bit sad. Hermione's stomach dropped.
"The Board of Governors has met with the Ministry representatives about the matter we've been working on. They've made their decision about the course of action Hogwarts will take as it relates to students who have taken the potion."
Hermione gulped.
"Those who qualify will be offered the opportunity to sit for their N.E.W.T.s next month, prior to the winter holiday. An early graduation," McGonagall told her. Finally, confirmation of what she'd been suspecting for nearly a month. Hermione had no idea how to feel. She found she didn't yet have words to respond to the news.
"Hermione, as you know – I consider you to be more than my student. For that reason, I'm going to speak freely. I hope you'll use discretion if and when you share what I say with others," McGonagall's features grew tight, a seriousness settling despite the fact that she'd just told Hermione she was going to speak freely.
"The decision has come down with a fair bit of fine print, if you will. Students who have experienced the side effects of this potion acutely – students like yourself – will be highly encouraged to sit for their exams in December. It's more than just an offer – you won't truly have a choice, dear. As I'm sure you've already been guessing."
And just like that, Hermione knew for certain. She would not get the final year she had always planned for. But, of course, even if they weren't going to force her out, she wouldn't be able to get it. Too much had already changed.
Hermione nodded, not expecting the lump that had settled in her throat at the news. She'd known this was coming.
"I – I had considered the distinct possibility of such a decision," Hermione said shakily, nodding. The Headmistress immediately shifted in her seat, reaching across the space between them to rest her hand on Hermione's arm.
"I'm truly sorry, Miss Granger. You've already sacrificed more than any witch or wizard your age – or any age – should have to. I regret the constant danger so characteristic of your earlier years here, the war – I so wish things had been different. You've earned more than this," she told Hermione, who'd felt tears begin escaping at the sincerity of her professor's words, "And here you are, yet again faced with a problem that was completely avoidable, but out of your hands. Of course, you're here in my office, prepared to try to correct the mistakes made repeatedly by those in power," McGonagall said, sounding as close to tearful as Hermione had ever heard her. She sounded almost angry as well. Perhaps Hermione wasn't the only one surprised by the depth of her emotions - or her inability to hide them - when discussing such a matter.
"I'm incredibly grateful to have had you as a mentor, Professor," Hermione responded, unable to articulate anything beyond gratitude for the witch before her.
"The feeling is mutual, Hermione. You are the student we dream of having when we choose to become teachers," the Headmistress choked out. Hermione had never felt so compelled to hug her. They both stood.
"An official announcement will be made at breakfast," McGonagall glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind Hermione, "in fact, it's nearly nine. I'll have to make my way down to the Great Hall," she finished.
Hermione saw, for the second time that year, a look of pity on the face of Minerva McGonagall. She was surprised by the anger it stoked in her. The anger she felt over the fact that the Ministry had ignored everyone's concerns, yet again, and created a shit storm large enough to force her out of school. No looming threat of death, of course – but still. It made her feel so small to be at the mercy of a decision-making body that so easily discounted the opinions of ordinary witches and wizards. There was a reason they'd made the potion a mandate – a legal requirement – they'd known people would never have taken it unless they had to. Most people, anyway.
As Hermione and Professor McGonagall stood to leave, she felt a growing sense of determination in her soul. She'd take her N.E.W.T.s early, she'd leave Hogwarts – just as the powers that be required. But Hermione Granger would not go quietly.
Where the fuck was Granger?
Draco Malfoy was seated at the Slytherin table at 9:02 on Saturday morning. He was, obviously, positioned so as to allow him to stare obsessively in the direction of his witch. His witch who, at the moment, was missing.
"I believe Hermione had a meeting with the Headmistress this morning, Draco Malfoy," Loony said breezily across from him. Wonderful. It seemed his house was in for the treat of her presence during this particular meal. His displeasure must have been clear on his face, because the bloody Faerie Princess followed up.
"Padma mentioned she'd gotten a note from McGonagall last night about it. They should be here quite soon, I expect," she said, smiling as if she'd never known a moment without peace. Before Draco could tell Lovegood thank you, from the bottom of his fucking heart, he saw Granger out of the corner of his eye. She was with McGonagall. Of course.
He immediately relaxed at her presence. Draco had found that, in the weeks following the consummation of their relationship, he felt more… himself. Not in the traditional sense of simply being fully sexually active again – but more capable of rudeness, judgment and a return of his general aptitude for being a fucking arse. Like the puppy dog Granger had made of him had never existed.
Except of course it did. Because the moment she was in his sight again, he was like a pig in shit. Well, a pig next to shit. He instantly stood from his seat, intent on going to Granger immediately.
"I'm telling you, Pans. He's fucking hopeless," Draco heard Blaise say distantly. Whatever. He didn't care what his friends said or how much they took the piss out of him for it. It was all true.
"Fuck off," Draco replied instinctually, without actually looking back down at his friends. He was already walking towards the fucking Gryffindors. He really had no shame left.
As he stomped briskly towards her, he smirked at the looks of annoyance sent his way. Finnegan, in particular, looked absolutely miffed. It was all too delicious.
"Granger," Draco declared, as if her surname was an announcement. She immediately turned to face him, not having seen him coming.
"Draco! Oh, gods, sit down – you won't believe the morning I've-" she looked completely frazzled and a bit distressed – more so than usual – as she was cut off by the voice of McGonagall booming through the hall. Draco instantly took a seat next to Hermione, noticing Parvati Patil on his other side. He resented the fact that he could now distinguish between her and her twin sister. Padma was the one with Adrian.
On second thought, Draco resented the fact that he knew either of their first names. It was all so unnecessary, so against his instincts. Whatever.
"Your attention, please," McGonagall's ability to project her voice was borderline impressive. He'd give her that.
Hermione leaned towards him as she gripped his arm. That was a more public display than she normally participated in. Draco instantly braced himself, knowing Granger must have been aware of whatever the Headmistress was about to say.
Draco didn't even flinch when McGonagall announced that all qualifying seventh- and eighth-year students would be, for the first time in memory, offered a special opportunity to sit for their final exams in December. Yawn. He'd known this was coming. Why was Granger all fucking uppity?
Oh, right. The loss of choice in the matter, the principle of it, et cetera. Draco knew the drill and instantly felt the need to comfort her, despite the fact that he knew she didn't really want to be at Hogwarts. No more than he did. He brushed his lips against the spot below her ear as she remained focused on her favorite professor, relaxing slightly at his gesture.
"Hey – Ferret – some of us are trying to eat," Weasley hissed from across the table. Draco scratched the side of his mouth with only his middle finger, a mature and subtle response.
Of course, Hermione was already whacking him on the hand he'd used to itch his face, not even giving him the chance to finish. Nothing got past that fucking witch.
She Weasel smirked at him as he shot her a glare. Then she jumped, a pained expression quickly replacing her satisfaction at him being reprimanded. It seemed Granger was a true champion for equality, after all. She'd definitely just kicked Weasley in the shin under the table.
By the time Draco turned to look at Hermione with pride, McGonagall was moving to her own seat, done with her announcements. Granger was, of course, scowling at him.
"You're so cute when you give me the angry face," he told her with a smile. She rolled her eyes, standing from the table.
"Hold on – have you even eaten?" Draco asked.
"You two are so bloody sweet and concerned for one another that I could barf," Ginny said. He decided to pretend she didn't exist and remained focused on Granger.
"I shoveled a bit of yogurt – you know I'm not a breakfast person – can we please go now?" Hermione replied, and he could tell she was about to stomp her foot.
"In a minute, Granger," He replied, turning back towards Weasley and the rest of her pitiful excuses for housemates. Draco smirked as he felt Hermione take her seat beside him again with an impatient huff.
Now he could relax for a moment. Or whatever you could call it, considering he was sat at the fucking Gryffindor table. But Draco noticed the anxious chatter that had erupted around him. Right, the exams bit. He'd known the offer was coming, but not everyone had the gift of foresight. Or a soulmate.
"Will you be graduating early, Ginny?" Patil asked from beside him. He rolled his eyes. He definitely liked Adrian's witch better than her twin. This one was a nosy little thing.
"I'll definitely consider it," Weasley replied, trying her best to sound noncommittal. Draco knew it was bullshit. She was dying without Potter, and he honestly almost felt bad for her. If Granger wasn't constantly available to him, he'd be quite a bitch to deal with. Luckily, she was – and he easily maintained his usual sweet personality. A real peach, he was.
"Reckon we have enough time to study, Dean?" Finnegan asked his mate. Draco couldn't help himself.
"Finnegan, you seem a bit confused. You'd have to actually qualify – academically, I mean – to sit for final exams," he taunted. Granger may not have shown it, but he knew she'd be entertained by the show.
"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy," Finnegan spat. To Draco's absolute delight, nearly all of the Gryffindors in earshot were laughing at the twat's expense.
"S'alright, Seamus. Intelligence isn't everyone's thing. You probably have a very bright future in used broom sales," Draco finished lightly.
"Alright, I'm ready now, Granger," Draco announced, turning to her. She shook her head in mock annoyance. He knew she didn't mind him taking the piss out of Finnegan. The proof was in the pudding – she stood up immediately.
"I'll see you later on," Hermione told Ginny, who immediately nodded back, smiling.
As Draco and Granger began walking out of the hall, he felt the familiar sensation of multiple eyes on them. Honestly, would they ever tire of the staring?
"McGonagall made it quite clear that we don't really have a choice regarding sitting for exams next month," Hermione said quietly from his left.
"Shocking," He replied, ready to head towards the doors for the Saturday stroll that had become something of a habit for them. Granger pulled his elbow as she started towards the stairs.
"Where are you taking me, witch? My bedroom is down-"
"Oh, be quiet, you prat. We're going to the seventh floor," Granger instructed, pulling him along at a rather fast pace.
Wait. Seventh floor?
"Why might we be headed all the way up there, Hermione?" Draco asked, already knowing the answer. Still. The Room of Hidden Things was, admittedly, not a favorite place of his.
"Don't be daft. You know why," she replied. She was truly rushing – not even walking beside him – straight up moving ahead!
"I thought you said-"
"I have a sneaking suspicion it might be fully healed by now," she immediately called, nearly jogging. Luckily Draco had longer legs than she did. He barely had to try to keep up.
"Right," he began as they neared the top of the staircase she'd been barreling towards, "but why do we need to skip my weekend stroll so immediately?" Draco partially asked, partially taunted her.
"Well, I was thinking – if it is healed, we could have some privacy," Sold. Draco was sold on that line of reasoning. No need to continue.
"And, if so, it would also be a good place to study and prepare for exams. And… other post-Hogwarts matters," she finished mysteriously. Oh, great. Granger was scheming again.
"You had me at privacy, witch. Let's just leave it there. No need for the extra shit," Draco said with false sweetness, knowing she would immediately dismiss his suggestion.
As they neared the turn that would put them in the proper corridor, Granger looked back at him to roll her eyes. How predictable.
"Set your intentions, Draco. If we walk into an empty room with nothing but a bed, I'll turn straight around!" Hermione instructed.
"Who said anything about a boring old bed, Granger? I was thinking much more creatively. Perhaps a-" Draco shut up when she stopped in front of him, nearly crashing into her. Right. They'd arrived.
He rolled his eyes as he turned to face the unsuspecting, empty wall. Any irritation melted off of him when Granger took his hand. After a moment, her grip tightened – he could tell the room was about to present itself.
Hopefully, there was no remaining essence of Crabbe.
Draco heard Granger let out a sigh of relief and excitement when a normal looking door materialized on the wall before them. She immediately dropped his hand to push it open, Draco right on her heels.
Damn. Not too fucking shabby, Draco thought as he took in their surroundings.
The room had definitely recovered from last spring. On the entire left wall, there were shelves of books, complete with a couch and table to study at. Draco smirked when he noticed the velvety-looking sofa was emerald green. Granger would definitely hate that.
On the other side of the room, closer to the front, there was another couch situated before a fireplace. Cozy. Unfortunately, that particular piece of furniture seemed to consider his witch and her preferences. Deep red. Absolutely horrific.
Further back, on the same side as Granger's couch, there was a door – a loo, he guessed – and a very innocent-looking canopy bed beyond it. He felt the smirk growing on his face as he stared towards it, noticing that Hermione had also been looking in that direction.
"Impressive consideration of neutrality back there, eh, witch?" He asked her, referring to the light-colored décor on the bed. All tans and whites and genderless touches. Perfect for a couple. Completely boring.
"Very," Granger said nodding, immediately abandoning his primary interest to walk towards the bloody books. Draco let her go, deciding he might as well inspect the accommodations the room provided. That, and if he couldn't go for a relaxing stroll, he owed it to himself to kick back on a bed, have a nap or something. Before he could pull off his shoes, however, he noticed the surrounding furniture.
Two night stands on either side – each with a set of drawers. Three drawers, to be exact.
He crouched to open the top drawer on the left side – the side he normally favored; out of habit. Sure enough, he found it full.
Full of socks and undershirts and his preferred style of undergarment. Now that was fucking intriguing. Draco opened the other two and found extra pairs of Slytherin robes and trousers that looked to be suspiciously close to his own size. They weren't made from his favored material, though he couldn't expect everyone to have the best of everything. That's why he was a Malfoy and no one else was.
"Granger, welcome home," Draco called across the vast space, laughing.
"What?" Hermione spun, already holding an open book.
"Whatever we were manifesting out in the hall – it seemed to work. This fucking room is fully stocked for me. I expect you'll find suitable clothing in the other nightstand," He replied, walking towards her. She looked torn between inspecting the sleeping quarters and sitting down with the book she'd found. He made the choice for her.
"Give me the fucking book, Granger. I'll save your page," Draco rolled his eyes, pulling it from her surprisingly strong grip. She actually stomped her foot when he did that. Didn't she know by now that he absolutely adored being the cause of her little tantrums? They were cute. And, he got a laugh out of it – especially since Granger never stayed mad at him. Because he was too bloody perfect, he assumed.
She crossed her arms, per usual, breezing past him with a scowl that didn't frighten him in the slightest. Draco glanced down to look at the cover of her book. Charms NEWTs stuff. So fucking boring.
"Oh my goodness! I would never wear these!" He heard her shriek, finally turning to see what she'd found. His grin turned wolfish as he set the book on the table and made his way towards her.
"Perhaps whatever I was manifesting out in the hall seemed to work," Draco replied, openly staring at the lacy knickers she was tossing out of the drawer and onto the bed like they'd burned her.
"You're an idiot," she told him, pulling open the other drawers to find the same duplicates of clothing he'd received in his own nightstand. Although they were female and Gryffindor, of course.
"We both know that's not true, but I'll let it go. Seems the room is requiring us to spend evenings here, Granger," Draco stated, reaching around her to hook one long finger through the knickers she'd discarded on the bed. He lifted them to inspect, and she was unable to snatch them quickly enough. Draco had already determined that he approved – perfectly suitable.
"Stop looking at me like that," she demanded, all squeaky again. His favorite. Draco smiled even bigger.
"Don't sound so upset, Hermione – I'm only excited for you to expand your horizons," Draco insisted, trying to feign innocence.
"To what? Lace thongs?!" She spat incredulously, slamming her top drawer shut and moving past him.
"What's wrong with lace, Granger?"
"What's wrong with cotton? And practicality?" Oh, dear. Now Granger was starting to show her cards. She was being self-conscious.
"Oh, don't be fucking daft. You know I fucking love everything you wear," Draco rolled his eyes.
"Clearly you hate my usual knickers! You know what? Fine! I don't wear them for anyone but myself! It's called being comfortable and reasonable!" Granger declared as she stomped towards the door he'd assumed led to a bathroom.
"You're being ridiculous. I've literally never thought poorly of your clothing choices. Except the robes, Granger. But it's not your fault that the Sorting Hat put you in the wrong house," Draco called, following her to the now-open door she'd disappeared through.
Hermione was standing by a small vanity inside an admittedly decent bathroom. Nothing grand, just large enough for a full shower, sink, toilet – and enough space to be shared.
"Not bad," Draco declared.
"So glad it's to your liking, Malfoy!" Granger was still being snappy. He rolled his eyes again.
"Enough. You know you're making a wand out of a twig," Draco told her easily.
"First of all, that magical saying is so stupid that I can't even allow it. Second of all, don't tell me what I'm doing! You're a wanker!" Hermione responded, still using her shrill voice.
"Ouch, Granger, you wound me with names! And it's a perfectly suitable saying. Don't nit-pick," he replied.
"Fine."
"Fine? Are you feeling alright?" Now Draco was truly worried. Was she genuinely pissed about this? Bloody lace knickers in a drawer?
"I admit I'm being unreasonable about the knickers. But you're a prat, and you can't even just be sweet when I do it. You have to be all 'enough,' and 'the Sorting Hat put you in the wrong house,'" Granger mocked, and Draco nearly laughed aloud at her attempt to imitate his deep, incredible voice, "instead of 'yes, dear!' and admitting you're being a tosser even if it's only to calm me when I'm being difficult!" Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him. Great. Picking a fight.
"First of all, we both know you should've been in Ravenclaw – at the very least. And second of all, we also both know I'm never going to be sweet to you when you're projecting. It's not useful," Draco explained without flinching.
He was pretty much a fucking expert at handling Granger-bombs by now. She was clearly upset about something else, and she was handling it more poorly than usual. Probably because she should've gone for a walk with him after breakfast. She needed fucking fresh air or something. And also, Draco had wanted to go for the stroll.
"Must you always see through me when I've no interest in being transparent?" She shrieked, and it wasn't really a question. Granger obviously wanted a longer spar before Draco told her she was projecting. He was sort of tired, though. He was supposed to be napping.
"How would you like me to respond?" Draco asked, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, crossing his own arms.
"Shut up," Granger said with less fury as she walked towards him.
"Oh, you're going to approach me, now? I'm not a wanker anymore? Or a tosser?" Draco was teasing a bit, even though he didn't smile or inject humor into his tone. She needed a bit of tough love.
"You are definitely still both a wanker and a tosser. But that's not anything new," Hermione stated as she stopped, standing in front of him, tilting her head back so she could look up at him. He really loved how short she was compared to him.
"Don't be bitchy, Granger. And for the record, I find the cotton knickers adorable. Your so-called practicality comes across so bloody innocent that I could nearly die," Draco began, arms still crossed. He continued.
"Would I object to lace? No. I'm not a fucking idiot. But neither of us truly care either way. What's your actual fucking issue?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes for dramatic effect.
"Can you at least hug me first?" Granger said, still rude. Why was it still fucking cute? Draco fucking hated that shit. He immediately uncrossed his arms but refrained from pulling her towards him. He was going to let her do the heavy lifting. As if that was actually heavy lifting.
Granger moved another step closer, winding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his chest. He delayed hugging her back for all of half a fucking second. Holding her felt too good to wait.
"I've decided to burn the Ministry of Magic to the ground," Granger stated from under his chin.
"Brilliant. Do you need funding?"
Chapter 38: Thirty Eight
Notes:
In which Hermione is knocked unconscious.
Chapter Text
Hermione had begun studying in earnest for her final exams. The month of November was passing quickly as she dove into a structured routine, enjoying the constant availability of the Room of Requirement. She felt lucky to have Draco to share it with.
To her boyfriend's displeasure, Hermione had also informed others in their strange blended group of Slytherin and Gryffindors – and Ravenclaws, for that matter – that the Room had become accessible again. Luckily, everyone seemed aware that the back corner had a bed and homeyness to it that meant Hermione and Draco Malfoy had a certain… ownership of it. Perhaps no one else felt the need to be close to their match the way Hermione did. Or maybe they just didn't want to discuss it with her.
Regardless, she and Draco had more or less moved into the Room over the past two weeks. They spent every night there, and most of their free time – except for meals and quidditch practice and Draco's insisted-upon strolls.
It was a Wednesday in mid-November, just after the dinner hour, and Hermione was in the Room with most of the aforementioned group. Draco and Adrian Pucey had practice that evening, but Hermione was quite content to spend time with her housemates as her days at Hogwarts drew to a close.
"Hermione, there's literally no possible way you need to study like you have been for the past few weeks," Ginny said from across the table, resting her chin in boredom on her right palm.
Hermione knew that Ginny was having trouble focusing – she hadn't seen Harry since Sunday – but she also conceded, non-verbally, that Ginny was right. She knew that she'd easily earn outstanding marks on her NEWTs, regardless of how much she studied in the next four weeks.
"I hate to agree with Red, Granger, but she's right," Blaise called from a couch on the other side of the room. Hermione narrowed her eyes in his direction.
"I beg your pardon, Blaise, but why exactly are you studying for exams when you have no need to graduate early?" Hermione asked, sounding bitter. As far as she knew, Zabini was still free from an accidental soul bond. He didn't need to jump into the real world like she did.
"Right, and stay at this fucking place when everyone else leaves? Honestly, Granger, aren't you supposed to be smart?"
"Fuck off, Zabini," Ginny said, cutting him off, "Hermione and I don't have a choice but to graduate. We're being forced out. There's no other option. You aren't in the same bloody predicament."
"Right, and you think this will be a particularly pleasant place for studs like myself without you lot?" Blaise rolled his eyes, not looking in their direction as he spoke.
It hit Hermione in that moment that her absence – Ginny's absence, too – might have a negative impact on certain students. Including Blaise Zabini.
As much as Ginny and Blaise butted heads, a strange sense of camaraderie had settled among all of them. Any sense of unity that had been patched together over the past months would surely go by the wayside once certain older students left. There was a reason that patrols had continued to be completely necessary and quite exhausting. Younger students were still fighting, despite the fact that they idolized people like Ginny, who attempted to put her best foot forward when it came to getting along with Slytherins.
Another reason Hermione was growing irate. The Ministry was forcing such inorganic unification. It wasn't a solid foundation – depending on the relationship of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy to lead by example and fix the cracks. You couldn't heal a world after a war by bringing in your own bloody Romeo and Juliet. Not that Hermione thought Florence fucking Shiptrill had any idea who Shakespeare was.
Or maybe she did. Hermione was unbearably suspicious of the witch and her bloody Office for Magical Compatibility and the amount information they were working with these days.
Padma interrupted Hermione's train of frustrated thought.
"I think Blaise means that regardless of his relationship status, our being forced out feels like he's being forced out as well," Hermione's favorite Patil explained, glancing sideways at Blaise, a slight nervousness in her voice.
"Patil is going to steal your status, Granger. She's currently my favorite of the mate's witches. You're being bloody hostile," Blaise said as he stood and yawned.
Hermione was surprised and irritated by the fact that this bothered her. She liked being Blaise's favorite. He was quite… fun to be around. Hermione was truly losing her mind and seeing the best in all of the Slytherins. Actually, she couldn't decide who she liked better – Pansy or Blaise.
"Don't be fucking ridiculous, Blaise. Everyone knows you've got a soft spot for Granger," Pansy called from the table behind Hermione, Ginny and Padma. Hermione giggled.
"Lower your voice, Parks. If Draco hears you, I'll be castrated," Blaise pretended to be afraid as he strolled over towards the bookshelves. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I quite agree with Blaise," Luna said easily from beside Pansy, "Hogwarts would be very strange without all of you. I'm a bit upset Theo and I have been asked to sit for our exams," she finished, not sounding at all upset. Typical.
"Look out, Granger. Now Lovegood is in the running," Blaise laughed over his shoulder.
"No one is taking any spots. Don't be absurd," Hermione began, not wanting to give away the fact that she did care a little bit about being the favorite, "But I find I agree, now, Blaise. All the more reason for us to see to it the Office-" Hermione was shocked when multiple voices cut her off.
"Is investigated thoroughly for its conduct," Ginny, Blaise, Pansy and Theo finished in unison. Bugger. Was she being repetitive?
"Don't look all shocked, Granger. You've only spent all your free time talking about it. Fucking cursed bludger the Ministry has on their hands with the likes of you and Draco," Pansy said lazily as she picked up her quill again, jotting something on her parchment.
"Regardless, I'm graduating with the rest of you, soulmate or not," Blaise said.
"Your marks certainly qualify you, mate," Theo agreed, nodding.
"It's not just the marks, Nott. We all know I'm a bloody force to be reckoned with as a lone wolf, but I admit – I favor the pack," Blaise said seriously. Hermione shook her head. Draco and his friends could be so self-righteous and ridiculous. And… funny.
"Scared to be alone, then, Zabini?" Ginny taunted as she slammed her book shut, doing away with any further attempts at studying.
"It's unbearable, Weaslette. Would you sleep in my bed with me to make me feel better?"
Ginny responded by chucking her book in Blaise's direction as he smirked – for as good a quidditch player as Ginny was, it was a fairly pathetic throw. The realization that Ginny had no intention of actually harming Blaise struck Hermione quite abruptly. These people were beginning to tolerate and know one another. It was so sweet and outrageous.
"Back to Ginevra's point, though, Granger. I regretfully agree. I'm third behind you and Draco and I could take these bloody exams in my sleep. We don't need to be spending every waking moment in this room studying. Overkill," Blaise stated matter-of-factly.
"Well, if that's so, then surely you'd be willing to look into some other things with me?" Hermione began, clearly meaning investigating the potion. She knew she'd get turned down – she'd pretty much exhausted her resources at Hogwarts. More digging and case-making would have to wait until she was out in the real world again. She was in limbo here.
"Oooh, negative, Swotty. I'm thinking of something much less draining," Blaise replied. Oh, gods. He had that look on his face. The one where he clearly had an awful idea that she knew Draco would probably like.
Just as she thought his name, Draco and Adrian burst into the room, still in their quidditch practice attire.
"I'm saying I see no reason for us to continue strategizing and helping these twats, Pucey. We'll be gone next month. Nothing we do now is going to matter for the cup," Malfoy was saying, looking irritated. What else was new?
"It's the fucking principle of it, Draco. And don't fucking lie. You just want to spend all your free time with Granger now that you know you won't have your name engraved in the cup if Slytherin wins," Adrian rolled his eyes before focusing on Padma. His features softened.
"Fine. I see no reason to set others up for glory that rightfully belongs to me when I could spend my time elsewhere," Draco said, looking directly at Hermione as he wiggled his eyebrows.
She heard groans from all over the room at the underlying meaning of his statement. Hermione giggled, unable to stop herself.
"Fucking perfect timing, mate," Blaise declared as he walked to stand next to Malfoy, looking positively conniving now.
"This ought to be good," Ginny muttered from her spot across from Hermione, leaning back in her chair.
"What is it, Blaise?" Draco asked, pinching the bridge of his nose for effect. She knew him too well. He was obviously intrigued. Well, it was obvious to her, at least.
"Look around us, Draco. It's outrageous," Blaise said, gesturing all around the room, "a fucking snooze fest. Absolute draught of living death fuel."
That made no sense, but Hermione decided not to interrupt. Not when Malfoy looked all intrigued. And sweaty.
So distracting.
"Stop dancing around it and spit it out, mate," Adrian said, crossing his arms. He looked interested now, too. Slytherins.
"Why the fuck are we sitting in a second library when we could use this room for anything we fucking require? I don't require books. I require drinks," Blaise said. Draco smirked.
"Absolutely not!"
"Oh shut up, Granger, we all know you-" Blaise started, instantly cut off by Malfoy.
"Watch your fucking tongue, Blaise," Draco bit. Hermione's face heated. Possessive. Yum.
"Apologies, Queen Granger. But we all know you don't actually need these fucking bookshelves right now," Blaise rolled his eyes.
"It's a fucking Wednesday night!" Ginny said, much to Hermione's relief. At least someone was on her side.
Then Hermione looked up at Ginny's facial expression. Uh oh.
"And we're alive, Hermione. Why not?" Ginny finished, and Hermione instantly went rigid. She was in for it now.
"We've got to be up early for class-" Hermione glanced nervously at the clock. It was only half eight.
"No offense, Granger, but we do have access to potions. We're fucking magic. I can brew us hangover cures in like, ten minutes flat," Blaise pointed out. She couldn't argue there.
"So you want all of us to exit the room and manifest, what, a bloody nightclub?" Hermione exclaimed, actually wondering if that would work. Did the castle recognize strobe lights as a requirement?
Draco chuckled at her outburst, shaking his head as he moved to sit on the couch adjacent to her table, staring at her all the while.
"You are brilliant, Granger," Blaise replied, clapping his large hands together, smirking as he intentionally took her statement out of context.
"Do I hear any objections? Aside from Goody Granger here? A night of debauchery for a change?" Hermione's jaw dropped as she felt the shifting tide of the room. Everyone's energy was agreeable.
"Why not?" Padma said happily from beside Hermione. Oh, not you too, Padma!
Everyone began to stand, collecting their bags as Hermione clenched her fists on the table. They immediately unclenched when she felt a certain presence coming to stand behind her. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"Let's have some fun tonight, then, Granger. I've a few ideas," Malfoy breathed. Shivers went up her spine as she turned slightly to look at him. Of course. A smirk.
"I say we meet back here in, oh, I don't know – thirty minutes?" Blaise posed to the group, looking down at his own watch.
"No fucking Finnegan's," Malfoy called as bodies started moving towards the exit. Everyone laughed in response.
"Take a bloody shower while we're gone, mate. You look dreadful," Blaise informed as he held the door open for Pansy before closing it behind them. That was rude! Malfoy looked so good.
Hermione's mouth went dry at the mention of a shower. They were alone in the room. With access to a tub.
"What do you say then, witch? Care to join me?" Draco asked lowly as he ran the back of his finger along the side of her neck. It tickled.
Suddenly, he was pulling her from her chair and dragging her towards a certain door. Dragging might have been the wrong word. She wasn't resistant.
Once they were both through the door, Draco shut it, slamming Hermione's back against the wall beside it.
He dove towards her neck as she groaned at the abruptness.
"Couldn't stop thinking about you all fucking practice," she heard him say. Her stomach fluttered.
"Why?" Hermione asked, fully aware that they both knew she loved when he talked to her during this.
"Been half hard all day," he said, pulling back to look her in the eye as she breathed him in. He smelled like him, and sweat, and autumn. Too good.
"Ever since breakfast I've been desperate for a shag, Granger," Draco told her confidently, "Sometimes it just hits me how bloody good you look in your little fucking robes. Even if they are Gryffindor," he smirked.
"You always look-" Hermione started to respond, but her voice died in her throat as Malfoy stepped back, tearing at his jumper. It came off quickly, taking his shirt underneath with it.
"I always look what, Hermione?" He asked curiously. Fine. They both liked when the other talked.
"Handsome. I want to have sex with you all the time, always," Hermione said, not even embarrassed by the honesty. It was true.
Malfoy let out one of his laughs that made her chest explode. Actual laughter.
"Yeah, Granger? Always?" He replied, hands moving to his belt. Hermione stared.
"Yeah," She said, nodding.
"I hate to rush this, witch, but we've got about 25 minutes to get to the finish line. Strip," Malfoy ordered. Hermione squeaked at his words, immediately beginning to rid herself of her own robes. She'd never showered with him before.
Thirty seconds later, they both stood stark naked, facing one another. Hermione felt the buzz of nerves and excitement at the prospect of more newness. She shivered as Draco's gaze raked down her body. He looked almost in pain as he reached down to tug at himself, fully hard now.
"Like I said, Granger, I wish we had more time – but, again – I've been thinking about it all day. All year, probably," Draco said, waving his wand to start the shower before discarding it on the counter.
Hermione glanced down at her toes as she wiggled them on the squishy bath mat she stood on. Steam was immediately beginning to waft into the air as the hot water came down. She saw Draco's own feet step closer to hers, prompting her to look back up as he grabbed the shower curtain before stepping into the heat.
Draco tilted his head back under the water, not breaking eye contact, as he ran both hands through his hair, rinsing off a bit of what she assumed was quidditch grime. She gulped.
"Get in, then, Granger. Your mane is beginning to grow," He laughed as her eyes widened, hands immediately snapping up to smooth her hair down.
Tosser. She could see her reflection. Her hair wasn't frizzing.
"You're an arse," She stated as she took the hand he held out, stepping into the shower herself.
Malfoy pulled the curtain back closed before tugging her forward to stand under the hot water. Hermione found she wasn't exactly sure what to do with herself. She'd showered this morning. She was pretty clean. He needed to wash off after practice. But they were also going to have sex. Right?
"Stop overthinking. I can smell the burning wires from here," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes as he moved closer, adjusting so that he could press their chests together while they both stayed under the nozzle.
Hermione steeled herself against the nerves and reached up to move her own fingers through his wet hair, scratching at his scalp as the water poured over them. Was that a growl?
"Accio," Draco whispered. He immediately caught soap in his left hand, popping the cap to pour some into her hands.
Hermione was stunned by how erotic it felt to scrub shampoo into his hair. They stared at each other as she worked it through into a lather. He tilted his head back to let the water rinse it out and she just gazed up at him through the steamy air. He was so bloody handsome. It was unfair. He grabbed the bar of soap resting in its holder, rubbing it under his armpits and across his chest. Before she could even react to how it felt to watch him like this, he reached soapy hands forward to run up and down her arms and over her collar bones and neck. She blinked.
"How was your day, then, Granger?" Draco asked, trying to sound normal. Hermione immediately laughed.
Her laughter was cut off when he stepped forward again, forcing her back against the shower wall, the water only hitting her feet and the rest of her body in droplets as they bounced off Draco. She was suddenly aware of his length poking at her hip and his left hand as it drifted quickly towards her center.
"Ahhgh," Hermione moaned as Draco immediately entered her with one finger, rubbing his thumb around her clit the way he knew she liked.
He pressed her further back, if that was possible, leaning down to kiss her. He was sucking on her bottom lip as she tilted her head back slightly, eyes shut as she half kissed him back while simultaneously letting out garbled sounds of relief at the contact. He moved his lips to her ear.
"Again, Granger, it might go down as one of my life's great regrets, but there isn't a ton of time. And I need to put my dick in you. Now," He ground out and Hermione nodded enthusiastically. Yes.
Malfoy smiled at her reaction. They just matched one another. She knew what his smile meant – he knew and she knew what they both wanted. He pulled his fingers from her as she pouted at the loss of sensation. He noticed and laughed at her again. Prat.
"Wrap your legs around me," Draco instructed as he easily lifted her off the shower floor. Hermione immediately responded, tugging at his neck and shoulders and arms as he pressed her back against the wall, trying to gain the right leverage to be able to rub his dick against her clit.
"Feeling a little needy, are we?" He teased, reaching down to position himself so that he could push into her. Hermione nodded quickly again, trying to move herself down onto him. He kissed her hard as he finally thrust up and into her. Fast.
Hermione cried into his mouth as she felt him thrust quickly, immediately setting a rapid pace. Not his typical routine. And she liked it.
"Oh my god, Draco, keep going," Hermione encouraged, hardly taking in her surroundings as the heat and water and friction overwhelmed her senses. He was so perfectly pressed against her that she could barely see.
"Do you like it when I go fast like this, Hermione? No going slow to start, just right to it?" He asked as he continued to pound into her.
"I like when you do everything. I love it," Hermione cried into his neck as she tried her best to move against him while being held in a vice grip. He was bumping her clit on almost every thrust. But she knew it could be even better if she got just the right angle.
"What do you need?" Draco asked, stopping his movements to try to figure out all her wiggling.
"For you to not fucking stop!" Hermione hissed, finally letting her eyes refocus on his face for the first time since they started. Draco smirked before pulling out and putting her down on her unsteady feet.
"What are you doing? I'm – it hurts," Hermione groaned, suddenly overtaken with need. She could literally feel her center pulsing at the emptiness. Draco visibly tensed at her words, looking equally as desperate to put his dick in her again.
"Turn around, Hermione," He said, moving her hips so that she faced the wall. He pulled her hands to rest against the shower wall as well, covering her hands with his own and squeezing at her fingers. In another breath, she felt him prodding at her from behind. Oh.
They'd never done it like this before.
"Are you alright?" He asked, straining to ensure she was comfortable with the new positioning. She wouldn't be comfortable until he was inside her again.
Hermione turned to make eye contact, nodding again and pushing her bottom back against him. He groaned, biting on her shoulder at the sensation.
"Fuck," Draco bit out as he reached his hand down to guide himself back in. Hermione saw stars as he re-entered her fully. So good.
And then they were both making noises without any thinking. Incoherent. As he set the same rapid pace and pounded in from behind. It was hitting a spot inside her that was making her legs shake.
"I will never get tired of how fucking good you sound, how good you feel when we're fucking," Draco said in her ear. Hermione moaned back, almost screaming when the hand that had been gripping her hip wound around to her front, moving quickly towards the spot she'd been trying to attend to before they readjusted. She wondered briefly if he could actually read her mind.
"Holy fuck, oh my go- keep going, Malfoy," Hermione cried, pressing the side of her face against the wall so she could brace herself as he snapped his hips harder. She could feel her orgasm approaching – she'd been close even before he started rubbing her clit. The combination made her feel so good. Only grounded by the places where their bodies were connected. Like nothing else existed in that moment.
"Come on my dick, Granger," He said in her ear, his voice strained from how hard he was pounding into her, "I've been waiting all fucking day to feel you on me. You have no idea how hard it is to let you leave the bed in the fucking morning. Or to pee at night. I just want to make love to you for fucking ever," He groaned, honest thoughts pouring out of him. She clenched around him at his words. At everything.
"Oh my god, Draco," Hermione screamed as her orgasm began to overtake her. Then everything went white.
"Fuck!" Draco shouted as he felt Granger clench around him. He couldn't stop himself. He just held onto her as he came. Hard.
He was so overwhelmed by his climax that he hadn't noticed that she'd stopped screaming until he was slowly letting them slide to the ground, standing be damned. Draco knew when to throw the towel in on staying upright. He was too well fucking spent for that shit.
But as he held Granger to his chest, he noticed something – she was – why was she all limp noodley? He squeezed at her, waiting for her to react. Nothing.
"Granger?" Draco said, suddenly alert as he tried to turn her towards him. She was dead fucking weight. Instant panic set in. He literally checked her pulse, only minutely comforted by how hard it was thumping. Not dead, just unconscious. Check.
"Granger! Wake the fuck up!" He yelled, summoning strength from thin air to hoist her little body out of the tub, laying her on the fucking fluffy bathmat.
She began to stir, and he let out his first breath in – seconds? Minutes? Time was irrelevant.
"Granger, are you alright?" Draco begged, his hands fumbling over her, stroking her cheeks to try to get her to come out of whatever state she was in. Granger's eyes shot open and Draco jumped and let out the biggest fucking sigh of relief all at once. He sounded like he was choking.
"What happened?!" Hermione cried, looking around at her surroundings before relaxing slightly at the familiarity.
Draco was suddenly very aware of how naked they were, and wet. And Granger had just… had she just came so hard she fucking passed out?
"Did I faint?" She asked, shock in her voice as she sat up on her elbows and searched his face. Which was, obviously, beginning to settle into a smirk.
"Granger," he began, trying to figure out how to play this one. He was concerned but also proud. Draco opted to make sure she was okay before gloating.
"Are you alright? Have you ever," Draco paused, trying not to smile, "lost consciousness before?" His witch's jaw dropped. Oops.
"I think we just fucked so hard that I fainted, Malfoy," Hermione said, suddenly looking as if she was about to burst out laughing herself. Gods, he was fucking obsessed with her.
Draco wordlessly summoned the towels from their spot above the toilet as he began hysterically laughing. He handed Granger a towel as he stood, barely able to stay upright as he began literally fucking dying.
"Holy fucking shit, Granger," He said as he wrapped his towel around his waist, reaching down to help her up. She looked like a wet mouse. A cute one.
Finally, her shock subsided enough that she started laughing too, both of them doubled over as the memories came into focus and she wrapped the towel around herself.
"I literally saw white, Draco, I came, and then I woke up on the ground," She choked out, laughter subsiding a bit to make way for slight horror.
"Oh, don't get upset now, Granger. It's another fucking first for us. I fuck you through the shower wall so hard that you lose consciousness. It's an honor," Draco insisted, controlling the laughter and sounding dead serious, "Although I must admit – I really prefer for you to be fully aware of it." Hermione immediately pushed at his shoulder and rolled her eyes.
"Don't act all proud of yourself! It must've been – the heat!" Granger exclaimed.
"Right. The heat. Of passion," Draco finished, looking right into her wide eyes.
"Do not get a big head over this, Malfoy. And we're sticking to the bed for at least a week!" Granger declared. Draco flinched.
"A week? Don't be ridiculous. You know we can't help it when the itch needs to be scratched. Closet, shed, bathroom floor. I hate when you put limits on yourself, Granger," Draco insisted. As if they'd ever had sex anywhere besides a bed prior to this. But her outrage was too fun to pass up on.
"Stop it," She whined. Little toddler Granger was hilarious to him.
"Please humor me. Do the foot stomp," Draco said. Hermione actually laughed then.
Their amusement was cut short by a banging on the door. Shit.
"Er – Draco," Pucey called from the other side of the door, "Are you guys – it's almost half nine. Everyone's waiting in the hall." Granger's hand shot up to cover her mouth, horrified. Draco wasn't exactly thrilled at an audience either.
"Get the fuck out!" Draco yelled back, smirking when he almost instantly heard Pucey's retreating footsteps.
"Oh my god," Granger shrieked as she threw the door open, hauling towards her dresser drawers. Draco followed with far less urgency. Malfoy's didn't rush.
"Oh, relax. I'll fucking kill all of them if they say a word," He soothed. Wrong thing to say.
"Shut up! You aren't doing anything of the sort! Do you think they all came in and heard us?" Granger wailed as she pulled on the lace knickers. He smirked to himself. She actually had been wearing them a lot lately. Sexy.
"Probably," Draco responded, pulling spare trousers over his boxers before opening the drawer with his jumpers.
"Why are you so calm? This is – this is – this-" Granger was stuttering and outraged. Blah.
"If you say humiliating, I'll go off. Don't act embarrassed by it," He bit, suddenly enraged by her mortified demeanor, "And they all fuck, too, Granger. Nothing they haven't heard before, it's just me and you doing it that's so fucking terrible," He spat. Draco had bloody feelings!
"Oh shut up, you know it's not that, you absolute dolt," Granger hissed as she pulled on her jumper, "I don't want anyone knowing anything about our… private – er – our private time."
"You mean our sex life is a sacred secret to you, Granger? It's that good?" Draco asked, suddenly content and prideful again. Hermione rolled her eyes, pulling his arm back towards the bathroom so they could retrieve their bloody shoes. She flicked her wand to vanish the remaining evidence of their shag.
"For the record, I wouldn't be opposed to you shooting a few death glares if anyone says a word, Draco," Hermione stated as they made their way back towards the door out of the Room, knowing a whole group had likely been outside waiting for them to appear for nearly twenty minutes. Draco fought a smirk.
"Anything for you, Granger," He replied and cracked his neck.
Chapter 39: Thirty Nine
Notes:
In which they play a game.
Chapter Text
"Hubba hubba," Theo whooped as Hermione and Draco emerged from the room. The group had been chatting but fell totally silent as the pair appeared.
"Shut the fuck up, Theo," Draco bit. Her hero.
"Take your own advice then, mate. My ears will never be what they once were after hearing that performance," Blaise laughed.
Hermione glanced at the faces before her, taking in the looks of her friends. No malice or judgment. Most of them looked either amused or indifferent. Neville looked a bit nauseous. Both Greengrass sisters also appeared in attendance and looked scandalized – Astoria, anyway – but Hermione didn't really care. She wasn't a huge fan of theirs. Actually, Daphne seemed fine, but whatever.
"We all shag," Ginny declared, always Hermione's savior. Hermione smiled as Ginny placed a supportive hand on her shoulder.
"Just… not like that," Ginny finished, immediately bursting out with laughter as she hugged Hermione, who had been fooled by her friend not once, but twice that evening.
"Oh, shove it, Weasley. I'm pretty fucking pleased to have never heard you and Potty go at it, but I assume it sounds bloody insane based on the way you get without access to his dick," Draco said smugly. Hermione laughed loudly, always shocked by his diction.
"Enough out of you, actually," Ginny replied, narrowing her eyes. Draco shrugged as if he had no idea what had caused her mood to shift.
"Can we focus on – what did Granger call it? Manifesting the nightclub? I need a stiff fucking drink, now more than ever," Adrian said bitterly.
"Easy," Draco warned. Hermione rolled her eyes at how overboard he was going. She said death glares. Not performative responses to every quip.
"Can the room even give us booze? I mean, it's a school," Parvati asked. Hermione thought quickly that she wished her least favorite Patil hadn't been invited. Unfortunately, she was Padma's twin.
"Why not? We're all of age," Blaise rolled his eyes at her. Hermione hated how much she liked Blaise.
She turned, facing the wall.
"Everyone – please, just stop the chatter and think about what we need and - be quiet," Hermione scolded, stuttering at the end.
"That's a bit rich coming from you, Granger. We all heard you screaming at Draco to keep going just now," Pansy laughed, the others immediately joining. Hermione rolled her eyes but privately smiled down at her feet before she peeked at Draco from the corner of her eye. He looked all pleased with himself. Lovely.
After another moment, the door to the Room materialized. Hermione was surprised that it looked the same as the door to her library landscape.
"There better not be any bloody books," Blaise said as he stepped forward, pushing the door open.
To Hermione's surprise, it looked mostly the same. She and Draco's temporary lodgings were still as they left them in the back-right corner, the fireplace crackled by the red couch, and the door to the loo was slightly ajar. She gulped, hoping the Room had swallowed any evidence that she may have missed from her… activities.
However, instead of the left wall of books and study tables, the entire other half of the room was sunken in, nearly the entire floor having shifted into couches and pillows with enough space for all of them to sit down comfortably. And there was a liquor cart.
"Not bad," Blaise started, "Though I did hope for something a bit flashier. Maybe some of those muggle club drugs Granger told Parks about." Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course Pansy had mentioned that to him. Blaise would literally crown himself the king of Molly if he ever got his hands on it.
"I think the Room heard the way Hermione felt about it being a Wednesday," Padma joked, and Hermione looked over at her, laughing along.
Hermione settled into a cozy spot on the couch, Ginny to her right. Draco leaned down behind her.
"What are we drinking tonight, Granger?" He asked, looking mischievous. She couldn't help but humor him.
"Surprise me," Hermione smirked, pleased when he gave her his surprised but impressed look. One of her favorites, probably.
"I'll have what she's having, Ferret. Thank you," Ginny said, dismissing him as he glared at her before standing and following the others towards the reserves.
Ginny leaned over.
"Alright, Hermione, you've got to give me at least a few details about your shower. I'm too curious to leave it be," her best friend said, rolling her eyes as she admitted to her intrigue. Hermione laughed.
"I came so hard that I blacked out," Hermione replied happily as she looked around at everyone settling into a circle on the pillows, drinks in hand. Ginny choked.
"You what?" She shrieked.
"I literally woke up on the bathroom floor naked, Draco over me, stroking my face to wake me up," Hermione explained, knowing it was a bloody wild story to tell so nonchalantly.
"Hold on. Go back. You're shagging? In the shower? And you black out? Was it the heat?" Ginny asked incredulously.
"Right, but I don't really think it was the heat. It was the shag," Hermione explained.
"What does that mean?" Ginny pressed, a smirk beginning to creep onto her features. She knew exactly what that meant.
"It's private, Weasley," Draco drawled, handing each of them a large glass of something that looked like water with a few bits of ice. He sat next to Hermione, the same drink in his own glass.
"You lost the right to privacy when you-" Ginny began, but Draco immediately cut her off.
"Malfoy's don't lose rights."
"Oh please, Hermione. Please dump him," Ginny begged. Hermione turned to Draco and smiled as he glared at Ginny again, softening when she caught his eye. She sipped on the drink. Yummy.
"What is this shit, Malfoy?" Ginny asked, sniffing at it.
"Does she ever fucking-" Hermione quickly covered Draco's mouth with her hand before he could finish insulting Ginny.
"Not sure, but it's kind of fruity and nice," Hermione explained.
"Firewhiskey with amortonic," Malfoy muttered from behind her fingers. She turned in shock.
"Amortonic?" Hermione didn't actually know what that was, but it sounded far too much like a different liquid that she was particularly sensitive about right now.
"Relax, witch. It just mixes with the Ogden's. Makes the shit clear for some reason, but it also tastes however the person drinking it would most enjoy it," Draco explained as he took a long drink of his own. She relaxed immediately.
"What does yours taste like, then?" Hermione asked, instantly curious about this unfamiliar mixer.
"Ogden's. Neat," Draco replied. Why was that the most boring and also hottest answer possible? Everything about him screamed aristocracy. And rich mahogany. What?
"Alright, enough dawdling. Drink up," Blaise called to the group, raising his own glass before chugging it all.
"Christ," Ginny said, following suit. Hermione turned to look at Malfoy, who shrugged and also finished.
Welp. Down the hatch.
An hour later, everyone had consumed at least three or four drinks. Blaise and Draco, probably five or six. Hermione's alcohol-hazed brain found it highly attractive that Malfoy held his liquor so well. Nothing about him had changed at all – he was just a bit easier to make laugh. Unless you were Luna.
"Can we do something? This is weird, sitting and getting drunk with Gryffindors," Daphne said from her spot in the circle next to Dean, who looked quite content without Seamus. That made Hermione a bit more chipper for some reason.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Parvati replied, immediately offended and quicker to speak up after a few drinks.
"Oh shut up, Pavarti," Pansy sneered, completely unaware that that was definitely not Parvati's name, "She's not used to you lot, and she wants to play Rounds."
There was laughter and head shaking among the Slytherins.
"What's Rounds?" Neville asked. He'd been seated with Pansy, Theo and Luna and seemed to have relaxed into conversation over the past hour.
"Oh, for fucks sake," Pansy groaned.
"Parks, you know only we know how to play," Blaise said from his seat between Draco and Padma.
Hermione glanced around at all the Slytherins again, curious about their little drinking game.
"Let Daph explain it, then. I don't have the patience," Pansy rolled her eyes as Draco and Blaise laughed at her contempt.
"Alright," Daphne said, sitting up a bit, "it's just a game of questions. We go around in a circle, everyone answers whatever the question is, and you drink if you agree or relate or whatever," she finished, excitement in her voice despite the look of indifference she was trying to maintain.
"What questions?" Hermione asked.
"Whatever the dealer of the round decides to ask," Daphne answered easily. Interesting.
"You'd better cast, mate. You're the most sober," Blaise said to Draco. Cast?
"Cast?" Padma spoke Hermione's question.
Draco flicked his wand, wordlessly conjuring a green orb that floated above the center of the group, sort of like a disco ball, but without the reflective blinding lights.
"Keeps us all honest," Draco began evenly, still surprising Hermione with his high alcohol tolerance, "It turns Gryffindor fucking red if anyone lies when they answer or if someone forgets to drink in agreement," he laughed.
"Of course it does," Parvati muttered, crossing her arms next to Luna.
"Start thinking of what question you want to ask when you're the dealer," Theo added, "If you take too long, you drink and the Round picks your question for you. And trust me, the Round will pick a question none of us will want to answer."
"Slytherins have played for centuries, tossers. If the Round picks the question, it'll undoubtedly be the wildest of all the ideas anyone in the group has thought of. It knows," Adrian said, laughing knowingly as all the Slytherins glanced towards Astoria, who was suddenly turning red.
It was the exact type of game that Hermione would have been terrified to play before she started a relationship with Draco. Having to announce private answers to embarrassing questions with a glorified lie detector in the middle.
She didn't have much concern now, though. She wasn't embarrassed about anything. For her own dignity, however, she hoped it wasn't strictly sexual questions.
Blaise summoned the bottle of firewhiskey.
"For refills," He winked at her. Draco shoved his shoulder, laughing.
"Alright, we won't humiliate you outsiders the first few rounds while you're getting the hang of it. I'll start so that it's two of us who do the first questions. You're up after that, though, Thomas," Pansy nodded towards Daphne and then Dean, the two people seated to her left.
"Don't be nervous, Granger. It's not as scary as you're no doubt imagining," Draco whispered in her ear, biting on her earlobe before he resettled into their snuggled position. His arm was slung over the back of the couch behind her, her head alternating between resting on his chest and bumping his upper arm, depending on whether she was listening to him and Blaise talking or chatting herself. She was quite comfortable and had draped her legs over his, which were crossed at the ankles in front of him. Drinking also apparently meant they were both more comfortable with public affection.
"Alright, no kiddie snitches to start. What house did you want, and is there a Sorting Hat story?" Pansy looked like a dog with a bone. Obviously, she was interested to hear the answers of non-housemates.
The Round glowed brighter for a second before Pansy spoke. Hermione assumed that was its acknowledgment of the question she'd posed.
"I barely knew there were any houses besides Slytherin," Pansy started, and every other person in her house took a drink. Hermione started to understand how it worked now.
"No story, though. Stupid fucking hat just sat on my head for a second, long enough to make me nervous, and then sent me on my way," Pansy finished, rolling her eyes at the memory.
Hermione decided immediately that she liked this game. She loved getting to know them better. Everyone's focus shifted to Daphne, who was next to answer.
"Same as Pansy. Almost totally the same. But I'd heard of Ravenclaw," Daphne joked. Slytherins drank again. Dean looked a little nervous before he began to speak.
"Well, I'm muggleborn, so I – I only heard what people on the train were saying before we got sorted. I knew the names of the houses, but not much else," Dean paused while Hermione internally prided herself on the fact that she knew everything about all of the houses at sorting, despite being a muggleborn. The Round glowed brighter.
"You're not done, Thomas. Don't even try to leave whatever you're thinking about out of the story," Theo called.
"Bollocks. Alright, I thought I wanted Hufflepuff, alright? I saw Cedric Diggory, had a bit of a man crush on him," And everyone immediately started laughing. Theo lifted a glass in Dean's direction before taking a drink, while a few of the other girls also drank. Hermione assumed it was the Cedric bit they were agreeing on. She supposed she'd find out soon enough.
"Weasleys are to Gryffindor as Malfoys are to Slytherin," Ginny started, smiling mockingly in Draco's direction, "But I always liked green. Then I came to school and the novelty wore off almost immediately, after learning how you lot beat it to death – everything always fucking green. And the hat sorted me the bloody second it graced my head," she finished, everyone laughing again.
Hermione sat up a bit to answer.
"Not to disparage you, Dean, but I knew all about all of the houses going into sorting, despite my parentage," she began, smirking, "I honestly just assumed I'd be in Ravenclaw. The hat mentioned it first, but then said it wasn't quite right. Also mentioned briefly 'that' house, without saying Slytherin specifically, would be a great fit if things were different. I didn't know what it meant at the time," Hermione explained, glancing over at Draco, who looked completely enthralled.
"I was really excited when it put me in Gryffindor," she finished, beaming. Draco rolled his eyes as Blaise muttered something like, it's really a bloody shame, under his breath.
"You all saw it. The hat literally never touched my head. It put me in Slytherin the moment it was moved in my direction," Malfoy started proudly. Hermione was shocked when she realized he wasn't done.
"I was fucking relieved. My Grandfather was constantly making comments to my father about how I'd be the one to fuck the whole thing up," Draco laughed.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, confused.
"Some fucking prophecy or another. He was obsessed with it. It said the Malfoys, starting with me, would be – how did he put it – tainted by the colors of other houses," Draco finished, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it. Hermione stiffened a bit, knowing he probably hadn't thought of it in a long time. Definitely not recently enough to grasp how true it'd been.
"You're a fucking idiot. It came true," Blaise laughed loudly. Draco's head snapped up, looking at his friend harshly.
"Not to embarrass you two, but Draco Malfoy is, I assume, the first in his family to ever date outside of Slytherin. And even though he's in Slytherin, the Prophecy was likely still correct. Your children won't be Slytherins," Luna explained, and now Blaise really started acting out.
"You heard the woman, Draco. Brace yourself. Granger wouldn't let you disown a brat for being a Hufflepuff. Badger pride!" Zabini choked out as he and everyone else laughed. Hermione and Draco were… decidedly less entertained.
"My children will not be in Hufflepuff!" Hermione accidentally shouted, and now Draco laughed with everyone.
"Careful, Granger. That's not something my unification prefect princess would say," he teased, and she rolled her eyes, moving on.
There weren't any surprises as far as questions and answers went for the next few rounds. Aside from the fact that Theo hadn't been as quickly sorted into Slytherin as the rest of them, which hadn't really been a surprise, and that Neville had really wanted to be in Ravenclaw. Ginny had told him he was Gryffindor to his core, and he'd smiled shyly.
"Your turn, Granger," Adrian said after everyone had finished laughing at Dean's response to Ginny's question – a classic that would have sent Hermione into a tailspin just months ago – who was your first time with? Luckily, she knew Draco's answer already. Some older Slytherin who was probably traveling the world as a model by now.
Dean had finally admitted it had been with Millicent Bulstrode, and Hermione thought Draco's eyes were going to pop out of his head. Apparently, it'd happened fourth year after the Ball. Lots of punch spiked by Weasleys and fumbling. Everything about the story was absolutely absurd.
Hermione had finished another drink and a half since the game had started, and when it was her turn to come up with a question, the alcohol had gotten to her a bit. She truly hadn't even thought of any questions the whole game – she'd just been an active listener.
"Granger, I don't mean to rush you, but you're taking too long," Astoria called from her own spot. Before anyone could respond, the Round grew bright, spitting a small piece of meticulously folded parchment into her lap.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," Draco said, exasperation in his voice.
"I told you she'd be the one to get the Round's deal," Blaise laughed as Draco begrudgingly handed his friend a few galleons.
"You bet on me?" Hermione exclaimed.
"Granger, in my defense, I told him he was wrong. But I can't turn down bets. I'm too rich," Draco explained, immediately setting off another round of loud laughter. She even cracked a grin at his defense. Such an idiot.
"Better hope no one's mind has been too far in the gutter, Hermione," Theo called to her as she began to unfold the paper, nearly screaming once she'd read it.
"Go on, Hermione," Ginny nudged, "and after this one, I'm going to bloody bed," she finished, everyone nodding in agreement. It was a fucking Wednesday night, after all.
"I want to make clear before I read this that this was not my fleeting thought, and the Round knows I'm telling the truth," Hermione announced, the Round glowing green in acknowledgment that she hadn't lied.
"Who was your first naughty dream, and what were you doing?"
The entire room erupted, some laughter, some groans, some shrieks. All valid.
"You know the rules, Granger. Start us off," Pansy laughed. Hermione actually sobered a bit at what she knew she'd have to admit to the group.
"I'm not proud," she said, hiding behind her hands before announcing, "Second year. Gilderoy Lockhart. We kissed passionately in the DADA office, while Cornish pixies flew around us. Very romantic, definitely illegal, and I woke up with a – a strong urge to rub myself against a pillow," Hermione groaned as everyone died of laughter. She had completely forgotten about it. Now she might have to ask Draco to obliviate her just to remove the one memory.
Obliviate. Ouch. She flinched at the thought.
"It's alright, Hermione," Ginny announced, clinking their glasses together before taking a swig. Hermione immediately cracked up. Of course Ginny would have had the same first sex dream.
"It seems Granger and me are meant to be. Mine was also definitely an illegal scenario," Draco began proudly as Hermione let out a sigh of relief, suddenly realizing that, had she not been a little drunk, she might have fretted that he'd say his first dream was about someone in the room. Someone who was not her. She glared at Astoria.
"Blaise's mother. I speak for the lot. And she and I bumped into one another in a corridor at a bloody slumber party. She had me up against the wall in a heartbeat. Went all the way," Draco announced without a hint of embarrassment. Blaise stiffened and groaned as Adrian, Theo and – to Hermione's shock – Astoria all drank in solidarity. Blaise immediately noticed Astoria's admission.
"Say, Astoria, I know it's weird and all because you had a sex dream about Mummy, but do you actually have interest in swimming in the lady pond? With me?" Blaise offered, probably seriously. Everyone, again, died laughing.
"Alright, that's enough for one night you fucking idiots," Draco stood, waving his wand to vanish the Round, "get out of my house."
"Oh, don't be a prat, Draco! She hasn't even answered me!" Blaise whined as everyone began to move to leave, suddenly aware that they were all pretty drunk, out past curfew on a sodding Wednesday.
"Shut your mouth, Blaise," Daphne bit, a little too harshly to ignore. Hermione's eyes widened, wondering why she was suddenly acting differently about this joke after all the others that night. Daphne had helped tell Astoria's first time story for her, so Hermione didn't really think it was just sisterly protectiveness. Blaise had struck a nerve. Daphne and Astoria left quickly, most of the group having missed the entire exchange.
Hermione watched as Blaise leaned over to Draco, slightly rattled, which wasn't like him, and asked a question she couldn't hear. Draco just shrugged in response.
"Leave it, mate," He'd said sternly. Blaise had been even more rattled by that, slinking off with everyone else quickly.
Draco turned to her after Ginny finally left.
"Alone at last."
"Oh, no you don't," Hermione narrowed her eyes. Draco looked at her confused before he rolled his eyes.
"Oh for fucks sake, Granger. It was ten galleons. I think my investments return more than that each time I blink," Draco groaned.
"Not that!" Hermione squealed, giggling at the memory of his announcement to the group that his wealth made him incapable of turning down bets.
"Then what," Draco asked, confused again.
"What was all that, just now?" Hermione waved her hands towards where Blaise and Daphne had been, as if they were still there. Draco's eyes widened slightly in recognition and he cringed.
"It's none of our business, Granger," he explained, turning to walk in the direction of the bed as she followed.
"When has that ever stopped you? Or me, for that matter?" She pressed, more curious now that she knew he didn't want to get into it. He never kept secrets.
He began to undress back down to his boxers, nearly distracting her completely, before sighing.
"I'm only telling you because I'm drunk," Draco declared.
"You are?" Hermione was shocked.
"No, not really, but I can't not tell you," he explained. She smirked as she stripped back down to her own knickers, summoning his undershirt to pull over her head before unsnapping her bra.
"What's with you and wearing my shirts to bed, Granger? Not that I'm complaining, but I like to give them a squeeze without the barrier," He stated seriously as they both crawled into bed.
"You smell good," Hermione admitted instantly. It was the drinks giving her a loose tongue.
"Well, thank you, Granger. You taste good," He said as he bit the side of her neck lightly, making her squirm.
"Spill," Hermione said through her laughter, sitting up to look at him so he'd stop distracting her through physical touch warfare.
"I don't like to speculate and gossip, so don't say a fucking word," he instructed, and she narrowed her eyes, offended that he thought he even needed to say it, "but I… have my suspicions. About Astoria," Draco finished.
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning I have my suspicions. About Astoria. And the lady pond, as Blaise so beautifully referred to it," Draco said with a grimace. Hermione's jaw dropped. She snapped it back shut, suddenly understanding why he was remiss to speculate.
"You're right. It's none of our business. Of course. I won't say a word," Hermione nodded.
"Yeah, I just – I feel badly. That she had to admit that she had a naughty dream about a woman in front of a crowd like that. And it was my fault," Draco continued.
"Your fault?"
"I may have thought briefly about whether you ever had sex dreams about me, and then I got to thinking about your first sex dream, and it built from there," Draco said with irritation.
"Are you quite pleased, then? To know my barely-pubescent self dreamt of Lockhart and wanted to hump a pillow in the dorms?" Hermione gasped, suddenly mad that he was the reason she'd had to share that little story.
"Please, I'll be sick," Draco said dramatically. Always the drama.
"You should adjust the spell," Hermione yawned as she settled under the covers, Malfoy pulling her into his chest as they lay on their sides, his hand resting on her stomach. They'd taken to falling asleep like that. And sometimes the wanker liked to reach up and cop a feel. Immaturity.
"Adjust what spell?" He asked from behind her.
"When you cast before playing. So that no one has to reveal genuinely sensitive information. Information that could, for example, out someone," She explained as her eyelids drooped.
"Not a bad idea, Granger. I'll investigate," Draco replied before drifting to sleep.
