Hermione awoke on the first day of December as content as she could possibly be, given the circumstances.

It was a Sunday and she was next to Draco in their bed in the Room of Requirement. Based on the light pouring in from the windows, she assumed it was about eight in the morning, give or take. She turned over to look at Malfoy.

"Morning, Granger," he said, eyes still shut. Hermione jumped, surprised to find that he was awake before he reached to pull her closer to him. She let him.

"Are you really awake?" Hermione asked, doubting it, considering the fact that his eyes were still shut. He cracked one open to look at her.

"I was planning on going back to sleep. Unless you wanted to-" Hermione kissed him to silence him before snuggling back in, wanting to just enjoy a moment of togetherness.

"Well, now there's no way I'll be able to fall back asleep. Not with the teasing," Draco informed as she tangled her legs with his, not moving her face from his chest.

"I just want to lay with you for a bit, you incorrigible prat," Hermione grumbled into his hard, warm skin.

"Fine, but if we're not going to start with a fuck, there's a few things we need to discuss," he explained in his usual demanding drawl. Hermione wiggled back a bit to look up at him.

"Things to discuss?" She asked curiously.

"About what we're going to do. After our exams," Draco said slowly. Hermione's stomach lurched. She'd been avoiding the topic. She'd go to Grimmauld, she assumed.

"What's to discuss? I'll stay with Harry or something while we-"

"Granger. My mother is wondering if you'd like to join us at the Manor. For Christmas," Draco asked nervously.

Oh.

His grip on her tightened as she, presumably, did a terrible job at hiding her surprise. Hermione hadn't even considered that as an option. And, to be frank, she wasn't exactly dreaming of the day she'd get to return to the Manor each night when her head hit the pillow. She flinched at the thought of his drawing room.

"It's completely understandable if you don't want to. I just wanted to discuss it. I don't – I'm quite unexcited to be far away from you."

Hermione considered that part. She definitely didn't want to be separated. And she definitely didn't want to be left alone to consider her parental situation in his absence.

"No – I didn't say that. It would be… nice. To see where you grew up," Hermione explained, "I'm just worried about spending an extended period in that place." Draco nodded.

"Mother has been tearing through it, redecorating every surface. I doubt I'll even recognize the place," He told her. Hm. That was interesting.

"That might be better… if it's different than it was. It's not as though I have a family home to return to for the holidays," Hermione acknowledged. Draco grimaced at her words.

"We can stay in the guest quarters, if you please. They're separate from the main house. No one's touched them in years. I'm sure my mother has ideas for it," He explained, "But – if you hate the idea – I'll just tell her that. She'll understand. And I'll let you celebrate with the Weasleys or whoever," He finished. She truly appreciated him saying that – she knew it probably tasted like vinegar on his tongue.

"I'd like to spend Christmas with you," Hermione said shyly.

"You would?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Malfoy. We've discussed this. The obsession is quite mutual," Hermione laughed.

"I suppose that's true. I just – I don't want to force you into any Malfoy traditions. The holidays are really a nonevent. Although I'd never tell my mother – it's quite – boring."

"Well, perhaps we could… compromise," Hermione suggested, already noticing Draco tensing. He knew where she was going with this.

"We could split the time. Between your mother and my friends," Hermione finished.

"I hardly think your friends would want me there, Granger."

"I don't care. I want you there," Hermione said firmly, "And if they want me to come around, they'll respect that." Draco gave her a look. Like he was thinking that she was out of her mind.

"We can discuss the details later. I just felt it would be prudent to at least broach the topic. And make it known that my preference is to not leave your bloody side. Obviously," Malfoy said, clearly still not quite comfortable with the slight codependence they couldn't help but express.

"Well, the feeling is – again – mutual. And I'll owl Harry and Mrs. Weasley," Hermione nodded, already moving to get out of bed to fetch a bit of parchment to scribble down a couple of letters.

"Granger – if I may," Draco began awkwardly, "would you mind terribly if we spent the evening of the 24th at the Manor with my mother? And then just… gifts in the morning? I hate to leave her alone-"

Hermione mulled that over as he trailed off.

"Sure," She nodded, remembering that the Weasley's main event was really Christmas day brunch.

"Really?" Draco asked.

"Of course, Draco – I don't want her to spend Christmas alone either," Hermione told him honestly. She'd yet to meet Narcissa Malfoy in any remotely normal capacity, but she knew how much Draco cared for her. And she, him. Hermione had no desire to come between that.

"She'll be pleased," Draco replied, a small smile on his features. Her heart fluttered with the realization that he had probably been nervous to ask. He could be so… sweet.

"I'll have to head to the owlery," Hermione began, standing from the bed.

"Nonsense. Just use Perseus," Draco said, sitting up, "He's quite efficient."

"Your owl?" Hermione asked, realizing she hadn't known its name. Of course, it was one of the more large, fancy looking birds she'd seen drop mail to him in the Great Hall over the years. It made most of the other owls look like chickadees.

"Yes," Malfoy replied slowly, looking slightly confused.

"Well, thank you. I don't have my own," She accepted.

"Right. You favored the kneazles," Draco began. Hermione giggled, surprised he even knew she had a cat.

"Half-kneazles, Malfoy. Crooks was only half," She explained.

"Was?" Draco asked, confusion in his features. Her chest tightened.

"He died last fall while I was away. I left him with Molly when we left – I couldn't bring him. He was old when I got him, I think. But Crookshanks loved the Burrow," Hermione smiled, thinking of how her familiar used to pounce around in the garden. She missed him.

"Sorry, Granger – I didn't know," Draco cringed. She shook her head.

"It's fine. He went peacefully, from what I hear," Hermione replied sadly. She'd noticed while they'd been preparing for Bill and Fleur's wedding that Crookshanks had seemed slower than usual; and he'd had a growing lump on his stomach that worried her. But she knew Molly would have done all she could to make him comfortable. Molly Weasley was always his favorite, second only to Hermione.

Well, shit. Granger was now grieving her bloody cat. Thanks to his brilliant self, bringing it up at random.

As Draco watched Granger move about the room, dressing for breakfast, he made a mental note. Perhaps a new pet could be added to his list of gift ideas for his witch.

"I'm sorry that I brought it – him up," Draco corrected, "I hadn't realized. Although, come to think of it, I should have noticed the lack of nasty furball following you around."

Granger laughed.

"He was not nasty. Crooks was misunderstood. Highly intelligent as well," Hermione told him.

"Of course," Draco rolled his eyes. She would be the one to believe a cat, especially her own, would possess great knowledge.

"No, I mean it, Malfoy! He always hated Ron's stupid rat – a rat that turned out to be Peter Pettigrew," Granger insisted. Draco shrugged, acknowledging that at the very least, it sounded her late cat was at least a decent judge of character. Fucking Wormtail had been one of Draco's least favorite houseguests. Being a disgusting rodent animagus quite suited that shit head.

"Right, but what did he think of the Weasel?" Draco pressed with a smirk. Hermione met his eyes, seriousness on her features.

"He absolutely hated Ronald," she admitted. Now, Draco beamed.

"Fine. Sounds as though he was quite witty. May Crookshanks rest peacefully," he declared as he started towards the window, opening it to signal for Perseus.

"Thank you for your condolences, Draco," Hermione rolled her eyes at him before perking up, "Did I hear you correctly, by the way? Your owl's name is Perseus?" She asked curiously.

"It is…" He began, unsure why that mattered to her.

"Why did you name him that? You know Greek mythology?"

"My mother named him," Draco told her, a bit miffed at how shocked she sounded that he was familiar with Greek mythology. He actually wasn't, but he was pretty bloody all-knowing otherwise. Insulting.

To his surprise, Hermione looked even more shocked by that.

"What is it, witch?"

"Your mother named your owl after the Greek hero that saved Andromeda from Cetus?" Granger looked bloody stunned. Draco tried to school his features to hide his own shock at the mention of Andromeda. An aunt he never knew.

"Coincidental, I'm sure," Draco said, brushing it off but also making another mental note – to read up on those absurd names.

"I highly doubt that, Malfoy. But whatever," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

A few moments later, Draco's owl appeared at the open window. Handsome bird, he was.

"Almost done with those letters for the dolts?" He asked Granger, who was scribbling furiously at one of her beloved study tables. Draco had also jotted one of his own for his mother. He was sure she'd be pleased to hear they'd be coming for the holidays – he wasn't sure who'd be most shocked by their presence there. Granger, him or his mother.

"Just one more moment. And do watch your tongue, Draco – you wouldn't want to insult Molly Weasley," Hermione called back. Draco gulped. He actually concurred – he had no interest in crossing the woman who'd turned Bellatrix to dust. He should thank her, actually.

"Here," Hermione said, walking towards him and holding out two different letters. He took them, turning to Perseus.

"Quite a flight for you today, Pers. One for Potty and Weasel, one for Molly Weasley and then one for Mother," Draco said as he secured the three letters. Perseus straightened at the mention of Narcissa Malfoy. Bloody bird had always favored her. Draco rolled his eyes as he fed the bird a treat before it leapt from the windowsill.

"He really is quite the specimen," Granger noted as she poked her head around Draco to watch Perseus soar.

"Of course he is. He's mine," Draco told her.

"Prat," Granger replied.

"That's what they keep telling me," Draco replied, rolling his eyes as if he wasn't flattered each and every time.

That evening, Draco decided to humor Granger by studying for their exams, which were just a week away now, without arguing or complaining. She'd looked at him like the sun was shining out his arse when he'd willingly sat next to her on the (superior) green couch with his Arithmancy study guide.

"I find it highly attractive that you make study guides, for the record," Granger told him proudly. He smirked.

"Of course you do. I am highly attractive. But you're not the only one who's bloody organized," he replied.

"I know. That's why I tolerate you."

"That, and my enormous-" Draco was cut off by the unfortunate entrance of one She Weasel.

"Good evening, Hermione. Ferret," Weasley called as she marched into the room without a bit of hesitance.

"Fucking knock, Weaslette. Is it your goal to walk in on me railing Granger at this point?"

"Draco!" Hermione hissed, pinching the underside of his upper arm. He flinched – that shit always really hurt. And she knew it. Fucking brilliant little witch.

"It isn't, Malfoy, but it seems like maybe you want me to. I hear you've secured an invitation to Christmas," Ginny replied, tossing a book on the table nearest to them. Great. She was staying.

"I'm not really one for audiences when it comes to Granger here. Very private and respectful," Draco replied.

"Molly said it's alright?" Hermione perked up from beside him.

"Of course. Anything to ensure you spend the holidays with us, Hermione," Sheasley replied, "even if it means allowing the Ferret. I've just come from the Burrow, actually."

"You're shagging Potter in your childhood home? When he has his own place? That's dark, Weasley," Draco taunted. Weasley didn't even flinch.

"No, I'm shagging Harry in his bedroom or wherever else I feel like it. He and Ron were headed home for Sunday dinner, though, so I joined them," Ginny explained, opening her textbook.

"Oh, thank Godric. I was beginning to worry that she wasn't owling back," Granger said, relief in her voice.

"Don't worry yourself, Hermione. Mum knew I'd be coming for supper. And Errol is… not dependable. She intended to have me deliver the message," the red head replied. Granger laughed. He liked that.

"Right, I forgot about him. It's a miracle, really – that he's still living," Hermione responded. They must be talking about the Weasley family bird. It was fucking useless, if memory served.

"Harry told me to tell you that you and Malfoy are welcome to use the annex at Grimmauld, by the way," she continued. Granger coughed in surprise.

"Harry is offering us – Buckbeak's quarters?" Granger squeaked.

"Er – not like that. You could use any of the spare bedrooms, as well. He just wanted to offer a place with more privacy. Plus, Buckbeak hasn't been there in ages, and I cleaned it out myself. Couldn't stand the mess," Weasley explained quickly.

"Absolutely not," Draco bit, slamming his own book shut. Fuck that bloody beast.

"Don't get all post-traumatic, Draco. I'm sure Buckbeak would forgive you if he could see the man you are now," Granger teased. It was not funny. The thing had nearly killed him! This was outrageous!

"Tell Harry thank you, Ginny. And that we'll definitely be by," Granger told Red.

"We will not!" Draco barked, looking over to Hermione, who rolled her eyes at him.

"It's not a bad idea, Malfoy. It's really a bit like an apartment, the annex. We could make it quite nice. Harry would probably let us stay there for a while so we can figure things out," Granger explained. Draco let out a long, exasperated exhale.

"Granger. You're forgetting that I'm Draco Malfoy-"

"Oh, I assure you, she isn't. You remind us at every turn," Weasley cut in. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Jealousy is a disease, Weasley," He seethed as Ginny laughed, "but I digress. I have a lot of fucking money, Granger. We don't need anyone's charity offerings," Draco finished harshly.

"Stop it, Draco. It isn't charity. And I've already told you. I don't feel comfortable letting you pay for everything. I never will," Granger scowled, "and I have my own money, lest you forget!"

"War heroine, Malfoy. Don't forget who you're dating, you unworthy roach. And keep in mind the Ministry did compensate Hermione insufficiently for her literal saving of their entire world," Weasley cut in again.

"Would you please be quiet, Ginny?" Hermione begged, much to his pleasure.

"Right – sorry. Forget I'm even here," Weaslette rushed out, just above a whisper. Not bloody likely.

"As I was saying," Granger hissed, "I have my own money. Not just from the Ministry. From my parents. They weren't short on funds."

"You shouldn't have to use any of it. Not when-" Granger cut him off, again.

"Neither should you. It's actually a very smart idea. And it wouldn't be permanent, nor is it set in stone. Don't argue with me, Draco," Hermione instructed.

"Don't order me around like a dog," Draco replied coldly. Granger paled a bit.

"Sorry. But I'm serious. It could be a good place to stay while we're figuring things out. I don't want to stay at the Manor in the interim – and I was planning on going to Grimmauld, anyways." He rolled his eyes, knowing he was likely already fighting a losing battle. Regardless – there was no point in digging his heels in about something that hadn't even happened yet.

"Whatever, Granger. But this conversation is not over," Draco declared.

"Sure it isn't," Ginny laughed, before coughing to hide her contribution. Granger had told her to butt out, and she knew not to cross his witch. He smirked.

"I'm entering!" Blaise shouted, suddenly appearing at the door, eyes shut tightly as he waved his arms in front of him as if checking for things he might crash into.

"We're decent, idiot," Hermione shot in his direction, incensed by the implications of Blaise's precaution. Draco, on the other hand, felt it necessary and respectful. Fucking Weaslette should take notes.

"Brilliant," Blaise smirked as he strutted towards them, eyes fully open now. Draco noticed Pansy entering as well, shutting the door behind her.

"He may be obnoxious, but he did hear the two of you going at it a couple of weeks ago," Pansy added as she walked towards the table Ginny sat at. The two of them actually got on alarmingly well. For some unknown reason, it pleased him nearly as much as he found it nauseating.

"Enough about that," Blaise said as he set his bag on the chair next to the one Pansy took across from Ginny.

"Please!" Hermione agreed forcefully. Draco smirked, not the least bit embarrassed. They were all fucking jealous as far as he was concerned.

"Eight days before we sit for exams, Red. Are you sufficiently prepared?" Blaise directed at She Weasel.

"Obviously," Weasley replied, crossing her arms.

"This is all a waste of time, honestly," Pansy said, "We're basically repeating a year. And, as much as I hate to acknowledge it, everyone in this room is overqualified for run of the bloody mill exams. We're not like their usual graduates."

"True," Granger nodded as she underlined something in her own study guide. Swot.

"Failure to prepare is still preparing to fail," Blaise scolded. Draco barked out a laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

"We ran around like chickens with our heads cut off, during a war, being forced to figure out magic well beyond what we learn at school. I think we're set on the preparedness," Granger laughed as she continued skimming the page in front of her.

"And yet here you are, studying for ten hours a day on weekends," Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Weekends are the best time for it, Pansy! We have classes during the week! And homework! There isn't time to totally focus on studying," Granger exclaimed.

"And one must factor in the amount of time you and Draco spend gazing lovingly into one another's eyes. And shagging," Blaise pointed out. Granger crossed her arms, giving him a frightening glare.

"Ignore him, Hermione. And don't act like you didn't finish all of your course work for the term by October," Weasley laughed from her seat. She had a point. Draco turned to see Granger's reaction – a shy smile that she was trying not to let break across her face. He wanted to kiss her for all her random acts of modesty and brilliance. She was so fucking attractive.

"So did Draco," Granger replied, throwing him under the bus. The nerve.

"You Gryffindors think you're sharing classified information or something. All of us are well aware of Draco's habits," Pansy drawled. It was true. Draco knew others were quite cognizant of how much smarter he was than everyone else, but none of them would dare tease him for it. He'd curse their eyeballs out. That was why he was Draco Malfoy and everyone else was everyone else.

"I find it quite entertaining that he's almost as big a swot as Hermione, personally," Weasley replied. Draco sighed dramatically – he'd been uncharacteristically wrong, then. Only the Slytherins knew not to fuck with him when it came to his study habits, it seemed.

"I recommend you get a life, Weasley," Draco suggested.

"And I recommend you-" Granger cut off Ginny before she could say something downright hurtful.

"Please. All of you. Be quiet," Granger began, "Draco and I are studying."

Oh, so she was a bloody traitor.

Blaise, Pansy and Weasley all started laughing. Draco rolled his eyes.

Chapter 41: Forty One

Notes:

In which exams are taken and we say our goodbyes.

THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER of Compatible Magic.

THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading!!! But their story isn't over. I hope you've enjoyed it enough to keep reading more from me - I can't thank you enough for your comments and support. Even if no more people read this story, it's been so wonderful sharing it with those of you who've been along for the ride to this point. It's brought me a lot of joy.

For those of you who care... much more George and Draco content (aka my favorite non-romantic relationship to write) is coming in the sequel to this fic, and it will be posted quickly. This place just felt like the perfect end to the beginning of their story. Hold onto your hats!!!! :) See you soon. xx

Chapter Text

Hermione glanced around her room in the Gryffindor tower the following Wednesday, shocked by how foreign it felt to her now.

With only three more exams to take – Arithmancy and Transfiguration followed by Charms on Thursday and Friday, respectively – Hermione knew it was time to begin packing up her things. They were leaving after their Charms exam and she'd convinced Draco to come with her to Grimmauld place for dinner that evening. She was quite looking forward to it, actually.

It wasn't like packing needed to be a strenuous ordeal. Magic made it quite easy. But Hermione did favor doing a bit of it the Muggle way. It felt more caring.

She had already packed all of her clothing in her trunk, including that which previously hung in her and Ginny's shared closet. It felt like a different lifetime that they'd asked for Professor McGonagall's permission to attempt the expansion. She supposed it was.

Hermione reflected on all the memories she'd actually made in her own little room that term as she carefully tucked the photo of her, Ron and Harry into her trunk. She moved to begin folding her bedding as well – she wouldn't sleep here again. And she had all she needed in the Room of Requirement – including Draco.

Hermione shivered at the thought of Draco Malfoy. Her lifelong nemesis turned soulmate and lover. She stopped folding for a moment as she stared at her bed, remembering how she and Draco had sat there, months ago now, spilling their guts to one another. The most important conversation they'd ever had, right here on the mattress before her. Hermione had always found it both comforting and jarring to reflect on memories in specific places. Draco had been right there, tears in his eyes as he confessed everything to her about his role in the war, his beliefs, even his feelings about his father. And now, she was folding her blankets and packing them away, like she'd never crawled across them and into his lap. Like her four walls never bore witness to her demands – her screams – that he never again tell her that she should leave him. Ever. That they deserved to be together, despite everything, because people had fought in a war – people had died so that they could have the opportunity to fall in love. He'd leaned against her pillows – the ones she was currently shrinking to fit in her trunk – as she made clear that she had no intention of wasting that chance. It was crazy how simple, random things could hold such meaning just because they were there when something important happened.

Hermione glanced around, finding the space almost totally empty now. Bare, all but for one photo hanging beside her door. Her parents.

That was what Hermione knew she'd also have to confront once they left in two days' time. Not just where she and Draco would live, or how she'd build a career around demanding accountability from the Ministry. Hermione would have to really begin to plan a trip to Australia. She couldn't keep living in limbo like this.

But Hermione shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts as she lifted the muggle photograph off its spot on the wall, wrapping it in paper so it wouldn't break among her things. She didn't want to spend her last days at Hogwarts in despair.

Hermione waved her wand, closing her trunk and glancing around. She was packed now. All her other things were either on her person or in the Room of Requirement and could be easily packed away in her bag. Hermione could literally leave Gryffindor now without any need to return. Ever. The thought knocked the wind out of her, prompting her to lean against her bare mattress. She was pulled from her paralyzing nostalgia when she heard the door to Ginny's end of the closet open. Her friend's footsteps were leading into Hermione's room without interference – she'd left own closet door ajar after clearing her fanciest robes from their pooled collection.

"Wow," Ginny said as she stood in the doorway, looking around at Hermione's empty space.

"I know," Hermione cringed, "I just didn't see a point in waiting. I don't spend any time in here anymore."

"I know," Ginny began sadly, "I just can't believe we're really leaving. Really being forced out of Hogwarts by the bloody Ministry."

"Believe it," Hermione grimaced, anger stirring.

"Down, girl," Ginny laughed.

"You're right," Hermione smiled slightly, glancing up to meet Ginny's eyes as she tried to compartmentalize her fury. Again, she didn't want to drown in negativity during their last two days at school.

"I heard they're getting rid of the empty singles during the break," Ginny explained.

"I suppose there won't be a need for a bunch of empty rooms," Hermione nodded.

"What a waste of such a good fucking closet," Ginny said, turning to stare at the empty racks behind her before coming to sit next to Hermione.

"I honestly can't believe Parvati is staying. By choice," Hermione said.

"I kind of can. She sucks. And the only thing she's going to do after graduating is start writing a bunch of bollocks for Skeeter or fucking Witch Weekly or one of the other bloody rags. I bet she's too embarrassed to leave without a potion match when her sister has one," Ginny spat. Hermione giggled, nodding. Neither witch was a huge fan of Parvati. Besides – that gave Hermione months to plan get-togethers with Padma without having to worry about her gossipy twin tagging along.

"Poor McGonagall. With all of us leaving, it was slim pickings for who'd replace you as Head Girl. But I thought she'd give it to someone else from your year before Parvati," Hermione replied, her remaining shock still evident. Parvati's appointment to the Head position was announced Monday. Oh, well. She supposed at least McGonagall could depend on her to know everything about everyone. Regardless of whether it impacted Hogwarts' actual policies and procedures.

"Goldstein is going to realize how lucky he truly was. My reign will go down as a Golden Age now that she's succeeding me. And I've been gone for half of it," Ginny laughed.

"Oh, don't be silly. You were gone for a quarter of it. At most," Hermione insisted, laughter in her own voice.

"Right, Granger. Fancy heading down for dinner, then? Now that you've packed up about eight years of your life into one trunk?"

"I suppose I have worked up a bit of an appetite," Hermione nodded, humoring Ginny.

Draco glanced up from his plate to look at Granger. She was so bloody irritating.

After playing musical seats like Loony for weeks, she'd told him that she would be spending her final week at school at the Gryffindor table. And Draco wasn't invited.

Not that he would want to sit with her idiotic house anyway.

Unless she allowed it. Which she didn't.

"Oh, fuck off Draco. It's only two more days without sitting next to Granger at a meal. She's literally right there. And you spend every other waking moment with her," Blaise insisted, causing Draco to turn to him.

"You fuck off, too, then. I know you prefer for her to sit with us," Draco bit back, insulted.

"He's got you there, Blaise," Theo agreed between bites.

"Only because I value her as a person. And she's wasting her life with that lot," Blaise insisted.

"You're both pathetic twats. It's settled," Pansy announced from Draco's left. Wonderful. She'd brought her kindest self to the meal.

"Yeah, but Draco's worse," Blaise laughed. True.

"Enough about fucking Draco," Draco spat, shocking even himself with the sentiment.

Conversation continued around him, and Draco participated here and there. The truth was, he never really had a lot to say at meals during final exams. Discussing other things felt like a useless distraction.

And now everything felt like a useless distraction compared to Granger. He'd have to work on that.

Draco cracked his neck as he went through his mental to do list. He was basically set on studying. Maybe a couple more run throughs of his study guides, although even that was probably overkill. His mother had sent Pipsy and Lolly to retrieve his things and pack his room earlier in the week. As if it really required two elves. Granger had an expansion charm on that bloody bag of hers. Anything else he needed to bring home could be squeezed in there.

His elves had been fucking overjoyed to see him. Apparently, his mother had shared that Granger would be coming for the holidays. Of course, they took this as meaning that their next Mistress would be moving in and had begun over-preparing for her arrival. He'd really need to ensure his mother spoke with them properly. Granger was already miffed that the Malfoy's still had elves.

Of course, the Ministry required they all be freed after their trials. But nearly all of them were loyal, loving little things. Pipsy and Lolly specifically rebelled when Mother had presented them with tiny silk gowns that she'd had made, inconsolable as he chased them through the corridors with the little frocks. They'd thought they were being fired – of course, they'd happily accepted once they learned they'd be allowed to stay on the property. And they each had their own vaults that they never touched, now.

Draco had been shocked when Narcissa Malfoy enlisted one of her trusted designers to make dresses for elves, but upon further consideration, he supposed it shouldn't have come as such a surprise. It was always his father who'd been cruel to the elves. Pipsy had, after all, helped raise Draco. She also worshipped him, as did most people who knew him. Draco of course had a soft spot for her as well. Not that he went around announcing it. Malfoy's didn't have soft spots.

On Thursday afternoon, following the mid-day meal, Draco convinced Granger to take a walk with him outside. She'd complained that it was cold and that they should study more for Charms, having finished Arithmancy and Transfiguration NEWTs before lunch, but he'd gotten his way. They both knew they were overprepared. That, and she could really use some bloody fresh air. Granger had been insisting on living inside of her books for days, and she was starting to get twitchy.

Their arms bumped and their hands brushed as they walked by the quidditch pitch. In a moment of uncharacteristic nostalgia, Draco had allowed Granger to pull him into the stadium so he could, as she called it, "take it in" for one last time.

"Granger, despite your preferences, I do believe I'll eventually return for a match," Draco stated as she dragged him to the center of the grass that was now covered in a layer of snow.

"Yes, but not while you're an active member of any of the teams, Draco," Granger maintained, "not while you still have any stake in all of it."

"Of course I'll have a stake in it. Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. And my son will play," Draco informed her.

"Oh, you'll have a son? With who?" Granger quipped, prompting him to narrow his eyes at her.

"You, witch. Eventually," He conceded. Granger went bug-eyed at his mention of their future children. Yawn. They'd been through this – it was written in the stars. Obviously.

"And why do you always assume it'll be a son? Don't you know there's more than one possible outcome? I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you," Granger said dramatically.

"Malfoys have sons. There's a protective enchantment on the bloodline so as to not let the name die out. Blood magic. Very complicated," Draco drawled, earning another stunned Granger facial expression.

"That's barbaric!" Hermione shrieked. He shrugged.

"It's archaic. As old as our bloody world. Just like the Malfoys," Draco explained.

"When's the last time there was a Malfoy daughter?" Granger interrogated, letting him lead her off the pitch towards a cleared path.

"Valeria Malfoy. Second born. It was centuries ago," Draco easily rattled off his family history. It had been drilled into him from a young age, after all. Valeria had lived during the sixteenth century, to be exact.

"That's… wild," Granger said distantly, her mind obviously struggling to comprehend.

"There haven't even been Malfoy siblings since the early 1800s, Granger," Draco added.

"Why?" She asked.

"Fertility isn't exactly… a pillar of pureblood unions. Of course, there are families that are historically productive. Take your beloved Weasleys, for example," Draco mentioned bitterly.

"I'd never thought of it that way," Hermione replied, totally stunned.

"You never had a reason to," he acknowledged, "can we stop talking about Malfoy reproductive patterns now, then?"

"You brought it up!" Granger exclaimed. He smirked. That was true.

"I suppose I did. What's our timeline, by the way?" Now he was sure her eyeballs would pop out of her skull. He loved messing with her.

"Why don't you get off probation first," Granger stuttered, shocked by the question. He laughed.

"So then, we can start trying in the Spring?" Draco asked, entirely joking. It would be years before he was ready for that shit.

"Stop teasing me, Draco! It's a serious matter!" Granger squeaked as he chuckled, shaking his head.

"You know I am. Teasing, I mean," he assured her. She relaxed slightly.

"I don't like talking about that so soon! It freaks me out – I don't know what your mother is going to be expecting, Lady of the Manor and all. I know your lot marries and rears… earlier than most," Granger rushed out. Oof.

"I don't think you need to worry about our traditions. I'd say our relationship sends that timeline right the fuck off course. Tits up," Draco laughed, actually growing uncomfortable himself. Why had he brought this up, again?

"Well – good!" Granger declared. "Can we go back inside now? I'm cold."

"Liar," Draco shrieked, "I cast a charm. You just want to stop talking about our theoretical spawn!"

"Don't call them that! And no, I'd like to study! We have one more of those pesky little career-determining exams tomorrow!" Hermione told him, probably only half-lying.

"Fine. But just know, there will be kids," Draco threatened, again unsure why he was dragging the issue. They didn't even have a place together.

"Enough!" Granger laughed, shoving him as best as she could manage considering their size difference.

"Five more minutes, Granger. I've already agreed to go to dinner with the dolts tomorrow. You owe me," Draco said, knowing she would fold.

"Fine," Hermione rolled her eyes, lacing their fingers together. Damn, maybe she was a bit cold. Her little fucking hand was freezing.

"Ever heard of mittens, Hermione?" He asked.

"Ever heard of properly casting a warming charm, Draco?"

Draco shook his head and laughed as they headed back towards the castle. One more day.

Hermione's heart thudded as she headed toward the Headmistress' office. Her body was still thrumming with energy from the post-exam jitters she always experienced.

"Carpe Diem," Hermione quietly told the guardian, who'd seemed to start to move before she even got the words out. She was a frequent guest, after all.

Hermione felt sudden sadness as she climbed the stairs to McGonagall's office. She'd done it hundreds of times over the years, often to speak with a different Headmaster. But mainly, to speak with McGonagall. Her mentor.

"Miss Granger," her Professor greeted softly as she entered the room, standing from her desk.

"Hello, Professor – you wanted to see me?" Hermione said, curious.

"Oh, not for any particular reason, my dear. I just wanted to bid you farewell. Properly," McGonagall explained. Hermione smiled, tears suddenly pricking her eyes.

"I see," Hermione said nodding before taking a seat across from the Headmistress.

"And how was your last exam, Hermione? Charms, was it?" McGonagall inquired.

"It was. And it went well, I think," Hermione replied, feeling more confident than her voice currently suggested. Her emotions were getting the best of her as she sat across from her former Head of House.

"I have no doubt you'll earn top marks, as always," McGonagall nodded.

"I hope so," Hermione agreed.

"Do you have any immediate plans?" McGonagall asked.

"Hopefully toppling the Ministry. Or the OFMC at least," Hermione replied, having taken to shortening Florence's department to its initials. An unnecessary mouthful, she'd decided.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," McGonagall replied, a knowing smile on her lips, "And… your Mister Malfoy?"

"Oh – er," Hermione stuttered, surprised by the personal turn, "We'll be spending the holidays together. Nothing set in stone yet, but – yes. Together," she finished. McGonagall smiled again.

"I've become quite… fond of him, Miss Granger. And more certain that my predecessor had definite predictions about your compatibility," the elder witch acknowledged.

"Snape?!" Hermione shrieked, caught off guard. The professor's eyes widened, her head shaking.

"Oh dear – no. I meant Professor Dumbledore. Forgive me, I forgot Severus," McGonagall explained quickly.

"I'm still not sure I know what you mean, Professor," Hermione said, less loudly now.

"Albus made little comments over the years. He had quite a proclivity for sensing such things. He was really very intuitive when it came to matters of the heart, and the fates," she explained. Hermione fought not to let her mouth hang open.

"Well, I suppose if he had a talent for predicting such things – I'd be remiss to disagree. Especially with the conclusions I've drawn in my research," Hermione agreed, referring to her belief that she and Draco were actual soulmates, not just magically compatible. Written in the stars or whatever.

"I look forward to seeing what's in store for you. Both of you," Headmistress McGonagall told her, clear meaning in her words. Hermione's pride swelled, appreciating the words of encouragement this witch had always offered.

"So do we, Professor," Hermione replied.

A short while later, she rose to embrace the Headmistress for the last time as her student – though Hermione felt she'd remain a lifelong pupil. As she descended the steps and moved out into the corridor, Hermione smiled. She started down the nearest moving staircase, heading towards the Great Hall, where she'd agreed to meet Draco before they departed.

Towards her future.

Chapter 42: CASES AND CORES

Notes:

PLEASE check out the sequel to Compatible Magic, Cases and Cores. It will be all about Hermione and Draco's life post-Hogwarts. There is still so much story left to tell. I'm so grateful to all of you for reading - the comments, encouragement and even the critiques. I've been so lucky to receive only the most useful and helpful comments from those of you who truly want to see this story be the best version it can be. Please, check out Cases and Cores, and please share it and Compatible Magic if you find that a friend might like them. It feels so wonderful to write a story for other people to enjoy. Check out the first chapter of Cases and Cores below.

Chapter Text

"Draco, stop fidgeting!" Hermione ordered as she prepared herself for the inevitable soot-covered condition she'd soon be in.

"I'm not fidgeting, Granger. I'm bracing myself. For an evening with your idiot friends."

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Ginny bit from Hermione's left. They'd already sent their belongings through the Floo to Grimmauld Place from the private fireplace in The Three Broomsticks. It had been Ginny's brilliant idea to return to the scene of the crime – otherwise known as Hermione and Draco's coming out party, sans their own consent – to travel. Draco had been more than willing to take advantage of this alternate location, having expressed a complete disinterest in letting her side-along them both to the former Order Headquarters. Well, she'd have taken Hermione first, then Draco, but either way. Malfoy preferred the floo.

"You go ahead, first, Weasley. I'm sure you're dying to see Potty in the flesh. I'd never deny misery it's chance for company," Draco insisted, feigning consideration.

"You know, he's really bloody rude, Hermione," Ginny told her as Hermione scowled at Draco. He could be so ridiculous. Especially when he had nerves.

Perhaps it would be best to let Ginny go ahead. Hermione decided she'd like to have a brief chat with her lovely boyfriend before he caused a scene at Harry's.

"Apologize," Hermione grit out through her teeth. She noticed, proudly, when Malfoy's disinterested mask fell for half a second. She'd scared him enough to get a reaction, brief as it was.

"For what?" Draco asked, pretending to be confused. She was in no mood. Hermione crossed her arms.

"Don't bother, Ferret. I don't want any empty apologies from you," Ginny hissed, grabbing a handful of floo powder as she stepped into the fireplace, "see you soon, Hermione," she said in a nicer tone before disappearing in flames.

"You're unbelievable!" Hermione shrieked, waving her arms towards Draco before whacking him in the arm.

"No, you are," He said back harshly, "you never mentioned we'd be traveling with Weaslette. And you failed to mention there'd be other… dinner guests!"

Oops. He had her there. She'd neglected to mention that all of the Weasley's would be along for dinner as well. Or, at least invited, according to Harry. But she knew Malfoy would be even harder to convince if she'd told him the whole truth. Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission. Or something like that.

"Fine. I forgot to mention there'd be a few extra people. But if you're going to be terrible, don't come. You'll embarrass us both," Hermione told him, praying he didn't take her up on that.

"Oh, don't be daft, Granger. I'll be attending. And I'll be my charming, irresistible self. But we're leaving first thing tomorrow for the Manor," He instructed. Hermione tried not to smirk. That had always been the plan.

"I'm agreeable to that. Anything else, darling?" She asked sarcastically.

"Perhaps a blowjob," Draco suggested with a shrug. She whacked him in the arm again, harder this time.

"Let's go. Put on your happy face, Draco," Hermione ordered before taking a handful of floo powder herself.

"Don't forget. 12 Grimmauld Place. I'll be waiting by the hearth," she reminded him with a smile, their sparring forgotten instantly. Hermione honestly couldn't wait to have dinner with all of her friends and Draco.

"I've got it, Granger. Don't go far from the fireplace. I'm fragile," Draco told her in his prattiest voice.

Draco sputtered as he stepped out of the flames, his vision focusing on Granger instantly as he stepped out of the cloud of dust.

"Hi," his witch greeted happily. Gods, she had a way of disarming him. Who cared if her friends were the worst? She was worth it. And the best shag of his life.

"Please tell me this is a mid-way point," Draco quipped, glancing judgmentally around at the dated, drab room they'd landed in.

"Don't be so elitist. It's unattractive. And trust me, it's much better than it was the last time I was here," Granger scolded.

"Please. There's nothing I could do that would make me unattractive. Especially to you," Draco told her, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Her eyes narrowed before she rolled them and reached for his hand.

"Come on. They're in the kitchen," Granger told him, pulling him through the place. It was genuinely unfit to house anyone. Much less Draco Malfoy, even temporarily. Mother would be sick if she saw.

"If this annex we've been offered is anything like the downstairs, we're not fucking staying here," Draco declared, earning Granger's claws digging into his palms. Ouch. She continued forward through the hallway, not taking his bait before pushing open a swinging door to reveal, quite possibly, the most unpleasant sight Draco could imagine.

All three occupants of the kitchen turned to look at him and Granger as they entered, Weasley leaning against a counter with his arms folded, looking at ease. Draco nearly vomited when he saw Potter sitting with Weaslette in his lap at what he assumed was a kitchen table.

"Hermione!" The Weasel exclaimed, moving immediately to embrace his witch. Draco's grip on Hermione's hand tightened before she tugged it from his grasp to hug her red-headed oaf.

"Ronald!" She squealed, far too happily for Draco's taste, as Weasel lifted her feet off the ground a few inches. Put her the fuck down.

"Hermione," Potty said joyfully as Ginny moved off his lap so he could stand, hugging the only brown-haired being in the room. Draco's brown-haired being.

Wait, was Potter's hair brown, as well? Draco had always just considered it dreadful.

"Hi Harry," Granger smiled as she hugged him back, returning to Draco's side once they'd all fucking greeted one another warmly.

"Malfoy," Ron acknowledged, nodding his head towards Draco, a sort of friendly dryness to his acknowledgment. How odd, to be civil.

"Weasel. Potty," Draco said evenly, nodding tightly at each of them. Ginny rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically from behind Potter.

"Don't mind his grumpiness. Hermione didn't tell him you invited the lot. He's a bit bitchy at the moment," Red explained, earning a proper glare from Draco. She smiled back.

"Fancy a drink, then?" Potter offered, moving towards his refrigerator.

"Don't be too nervous, Malfoy. It's just Mum, Dad and George," Weasel said, amusement clear in his voice. Of course. He was entertained by Draco's discomfort.

Draco privately smirked at the mention of the surviving twin. He seemed like a decent bloke. For a Weasley.

"There's wine, water, butterbeer… I think I have some Ogden's in the den," Potter listed, looking at his shelves.

"Yes," Draco deadpanned the moment he heard Ogden's. Potter looked at him strangely.

"To the firewhiskey," Granger laughed, "I'll have the same."

"You drink firewhiskey now? What's happened to our innocent nerd?" Weasel exclaimed, eternally amused, it seemed.

"I happened," Draco bit, less harshly than he'd intended.

"Right," Potter laughed, exiting to hopefully retrieve the booze.

"Is there anything I can do to help prepare the food?" Granger asked sweetly. Absolute doll, she was. None of them deserved her. Except Draco.

"Oi, about that, 'Mione – we've ordered takeaway. Hope you don't mind," Weasel confessed, scratching at the back of his head as if he was bracing himself for Granger's wrath.

"Oh, thank Godric. I was worried you two might have actually tried to cook," Granger breathed, "where from?"

"Sushi place. Become a bit of a go-to recently. Even Mum likes it, probably because it's something she can't make herself. Dad obviously loves it solely for the paper menus that come with the food," the male Ginger Headed Fuck explained.

"What the fuck is soosey?" Draco asked, unfamiliar.

"Sushi," Granger corrected, "it's Japanese. Rice and fish and other good things. You'll like it. Probably," she said before smirking up at him. Bollocks, he hoped it was edible. He was fucking hungry.

"Here we are," Potter said, re-entering the kitchen with a bloody decent bottle of Ogden's. Not that Draco was going to tell him that.

Potter grabbed two glasses from the cupboard before turning back to Draco and Hermione. To his surprise, his witch tittered over to the refrigerator to retrieve a little thing of – what was that, pumpkin juice?

"Apple cider," Granger told him, noticing his watchful gaze before pouring him a glass of the Ogden's and a smaller one for herself. Then, she added equal parts of the apple shit and a bit of ice to her own. A travesty.

He immediately accepted the drink when she handed it to him, taking a not-insignificant swig. He'd need it.

Suddenly, Draco heard the sound of the floo activating in the other room. He braced himself.

"That'll be George," Weasel said, "Why don't we go sit in the other room?"

Draco checked his watch. Half five. Not nearly late enough to excuse himself for the evening.

"Of course – Harry – could you help me with our things, though? We're leaving tomorrow morning, but I want to get settled before Molly and Arthur arrive," Hermione said, interrupting Draco's thoughts.

"Sure," Potter nodded, "I've had Kreacher working on the annex, by the way. He's over the moon to have a 'true Black' staying here. You actually might be surprised by how… decent it looks up there," he finished.

A true Black? Oh right, him. Draco Lucius Malfoy was also the heir to the Black Family, considering his dear cousin was dead and her mother had been disowned long before that. Otherwise, her surviving orphan might have been a bit of competition. Not that Draco needed the access to the Black vaults. They were nothing compared to his own.

"Hermione Granger, there you are," George greeted as they all re-entered the room Draco had first flooed to. A completely hopeless dwelling.

"Hello George!" His witch nearly sang, smiling warmly.

"Drakeykins. Lovely to see you in all your platinum glory," George nodded in Draco's direction. Fuck. That stupid fucking nickname. The one Granger said he'd be stuck with for life.

"Weasley," Draco acknowledged, trying not to scream at the shop owner's use of the awful moniker.

"Drakeykins?" Ginny laughed, looking back and forth between the two wizards. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I said what I said, Ginevra. Our little heir here loves the name, I assume. It's so fitting for him, warm bastard he is," George explained mischievously. Did that tosser do anything without mischief? Fuck.

"I've been instructed that no response is the best response," Draco drawled, much to George Weasley's delight.

"C'mon, Drakey. Don't be cross," Draco's – for some ungodly reason – most favored Weasley continued. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Ferret, you'll need a counter, then. Something awful to call George. Not that it will deter him from calling you Drakeykins, but at least something. You're looking pathetic," Ginny informed him. Great. Orders from Weaslette.

"And it can't just be Georgiekins," George instructed with a shit-eating grin. As if Draco would ever lower himself far enough to utter such syllables. Repulsive.

"I'll let you know when I figure something out," Draco said tightly, refusing to smile as he noticed everyone else in the room laughing at the exchange.

"By the way, mate, have you found me my Queen? The well-bred one I requested at the quidditch match?" The tosser winked as Draco scoffed, having actually mentioned his name to Daphne for kicks. She'd honestly received the suggestion better than Draco had expected. She hadn't even hit him.

"I've put a good word in with Daphne Greengrass. Rumor has it there's a blood curse on her younger sister, but it seems Daph is in the clear on that front. You're welcome," Draco said evenly.

"He's an absolute peach, he is. You lot are so judgmental. Granger's found herself a real keeper," George told the room as everyone rolled their eyes. Why were they rolling their eyes? Of course Draco was a bloody keeper and a right peach. Anyone with a brain knew it.

"Right. I'm going to show Hermione and Malfoy to their room," Potter said, trying not to laugh.

Fuck. It was going to be a long evening.