Ginny kept true to her word and brought James and Albus over at ten a.m. on the dot the next morning. For entertainment, James carried miniature Quidditch players with him, unleashing two teams immediately upon entering Hermione's flat. With her seeker reflexes, Ginny caught her likeness just in time, before the tiny redhead escaped through the open living room window.
"Players getting ready!" James shouted in imitation of the stadium announcer, jumping onto the couch, fumbling with a little box. The Holyhead Harpies and Falmouth Falcons flew into formation, waiting for the game to begin.
"James Sirius Potter, get off the couch! You haven't even greeted Hermione!" Ginny chastised her eldest, shooting him the look that made even the oldest of the Weasley brothers shiver. In no time James was off the couch, graced Hermione with a short "Morning, Mione," and opened his little box to reveal the Quidditch balls, setting the game into motion.
Hermione put her hand onto Ginny's shoulders, keeping her friend from further scolding her little rascal of a son. In everything James was too loud, too boisterous, little Albus was too quiet, too meek. While his older brother had taken control of the living room, Albus clutched a book to his chest, 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'.
"I got this, Ginny. You enjoy your day with Harry," Hermione assured her and pulled Albus into her side. "What do you think, Albus, will we get along?" With his big green eyes, inherited from his father, Albus peered up at her, nodding his head shyly.
"We really owe you, Hermione. We might just make you godmother of number three." Ginny winked at her in a conspiratorial way, not very refined in hinting at what she and Harry would get up to today. Still uncomfortable with Ginny's bluntness about such personal things, Hermione cringed inwardly, but forced the smile on her lips not to waver.
"Have... fun then," she said lamely, as she and Albus waved Ginny goodbye, James not even noticing his mother's departure.
A thunk from behind her had Hermione turn around, finding that one of the Falcons had flown against the picture on her side table and knocked it to the ground. This not being the first time she had babysat the little whirlwind, Hermione had placed protective charms all over the flat to ensure nothing got damaged or that the children would not get hurt. Regardless of the glass not shattering, Draco stood beside it, pawing it, howling a complaint. Draco knew all too well that had he done that, he would have gotten a scolding.
Not wanting to anger her tomcat and seeing his reasoning in wanting fair treatment, Hermione froze the tiny players in motion. Shouting "Hey!" in protest, James crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione mirrored his posture and raised her brow.
"James, this isn't the first time you're here for a visit, you know the rules," Hermione reminded him.
James pressed his lips together, probably debating whether he should defy her or not. Thankfully, he chose not to rebel and said in a huff, " No Quidditch without a barrier spell ." Although she did not like his tone, clearly a poor imitation of her scolding tone, Hermione did not feel like making it worse. With a wave of her wand a string of light outlined the safe playing field, the players flying inside the barrier.
"Thank you, Mione," was the only thing he said before he turned back towards his game, blocking out anything except the players clad in yellow and gray.
Sighing, Hermione walked around his playing field and set the picture frame straight again, Draco nuzzling against her leg. If the morning had already started like this, then it would surely be a long day.
Crouching down to Albus' eye level, Hermione gazed at the boy, still standing motionless where she had left him, not making a move to do anything. Knowing that he needed some time to warm up to her, despite how often he and his brother had already been at her flat, she smiled encouragingly and asked, "Do you want me to read you the book?" Albus' eyes darted between her and James and back before he nodded, easing his hold on the book he had clasped against his chest. Hermione sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to her in invitation for Albus to sit down beside her.
As he struggled with the height of her couch, Hermione helped him up and after hesitating just a moment he shifted closer to her, their legs touching and handed her the book.
Opening the book in her lap, Hermione flipped to the table of contents, which she still knew off by heart from having read the book countless times in the Forest of Dean. "So, how about 'The Wizard and the Hopping Pot'?" she suggested, but was quickly shut down by a howl from her right, where Draco now sat perched on the armrest. Mesmerized, Albus stared at the tomcat, momentarily forgetting about his fairy tale book.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced you. This is Draco. He's my guest while my friend Theo is on holiday." In greeting Draco nodded at the youngest Potter.
"Nice to meet you, Draco. I'm Albus," the boy introduced himself to the feline, his hand twitching in his lap.
"Would you like to pet him?" Hermione inquired, seeing the want clearly written on Albus' features. Eagerly nodding, Albus reached out his hand, hesitating just short of touching Draco's head. However, Draco closed the gap and rubbed his head against the small hand, purring. A short giggle escaped Albus and he beamed up at her, smiling wide.
"He likes when you scratch behind his ears," Hermione supplied and immediately Albus did just that. After Albus drew his hand back, Draco stepped over Hermione's and Albus' lap to sit next to the boy. With Draco settled in, Hermione suggested the next fairy tale and as neither of them objected to 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune', she read the story to them. All the while Albus kept petting and stroking Draco, the tomcat clearly content at the boy's side, his eyes closed, enjoying the gentle touches.
As it turned out, Draco was a tremendous help in babysitting the two boys. He was cuddly with Albus and playful with James, dividing his time among the boys evenly. When Albus napped after lunch, Draco played for hours with James, the two of them chasing a toy Golden Snitch around the living room.
At the end of the day, when Ginny came to pick her boys up, her hair slightly mussed, James and Albus were both enamored with the tomcat, begging their mother to please, please, please also get a cat.
SundayBent over her desk Hermione slaved away - on a Sunday evening! - to finish working the necessary changes into the new draft of her law. After her work which had taken months had been torn to shreds the week before, she needed to be better prepared: arranging the necessary data and writing a whole new presentation.
Had she loved her boss for sending her a note with helpful thoughts and comments on a Sunday morning?
Yes.
Did she curse herself for being so perfectionistic as to try to do the work of weeks in merely a couple of hours?
Certainly.
Would she do everything she could to implement all her desired changes before her meeting Monday morning anyway?
Of course. Not even the firm grasp her period had on her could stop her.
Any further round of reviews she could avoid, she would. Merlin knew, she had already debated, fought really, long enough with the Wizengamot about the necessary changes to Werewolves' roles in Wizarding society that she would sooner or later snap and hex the whole lot of them. Every day spent on the pointless arguments of the Wizengamot, was a day wasted.
Her boss had supplied her with a new angle of attack and she would use it.
With this new angle she could finally convince the sceptics and force them to make compromises, instead of constantly invoking traditions to back up their twisted reasoning.
With a purring Draco laying in her lap, heat radiating off of him and soothing her lower body pain, it almost bordered on acceptable. He was a brilliant work partner. Although he did not contribute anything to advance her work, his companionship was priceless. He lay quiet when she needed to tame her thoughts, which were currently swarming all over the place. He encouraged her by rubbing his head in the crook of her neck when she was close to giving up. He even reminded her to drink something when she forgot to hydrate, pawing the carafe of water. By eleven pm she was nowhere near close to finishing: not the new draft of her law, not the data, and especially not the presentation.
" Merlin , what am I doing to myself?" With a strangled groan she sank into her office chair, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. She hung her head, her hair encircling Draco, who peered up at her with his big silver eyes. Her shoulders hunched over, she gazed down at him, feeling like she had let down all those misunderstood creatures, she honestly felt like crying. Exactly at this moment, when all hope was lost, Draco blinked at her, slowly blinked at her. The cat version of "I love you." Her heart warmed for the feline, reciprocating the gesture in turn. His display of affection gave her the energy to see her project through. It took her all night and into the early morning to wrap it up, but she had done it. Who needed sleep when the rush of having accomplished something gave you enough energy to go on? Certainly not Hermione.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." Between every sentence she pressed a kiss onto Draco's head.
"I couldn't have done it without you." She rubbed her cheek against his, earning herself a satisfied purr.
"Such a good boy." Hugging him to herself one last time, she set him on the floor and stood, stretching her aching muscles.
"A quick shower and I'll make it just in time for the presentation." Her announcement was affirmed by a meow from Draco, and Hermione got ready for her day of work. Hopefully all her hard work would pay off.
MondayIt did not… yet, at least.
Due to a schedule coordination mishap, her meeting with the Wizengamot was postponed to Wednesday. The news hit Hermione so hard, that all the energy dissipated from her body, the fatigue of pulling an all-nighter taking over. All Hermione could do was a short test run with her Department head before she was sent home.
It had not been the first time her boss had sent her home early. Hermione tended to over work whenever a project was drawing to a close. Exhausted, she would not complain, though, and looked forward to belatedly enjoying her bath wellness.
Draco did not greet her when she exited the fireplace, but then again she had broken her routine, so it was unfair of her to expect him to break his. Still, she felt sad when her little house guest did not come running to her. Entering her hallway, she heard her shower running. Had she been so focused on leaving that morning that she had forgotten to turn it off? Good Godric , the water bill would be horrendous!
"Hermione." The unfamiliar whine made Hermione's hand come to a stop, hovering right over the door handle. Someone was taking a shower in her flat and crying her name? Pulling her wand from her pocket, she pressed down on the door handle slowly, intent on not making any noise.
"Hermione." The sound of her name was accompanied by splashing and panting.
A blond man leaned one hand against the tiled wall while his other pumped his erection.
Draco was standing in her shower, masturbating.
Draco as in Draco Malfoy .
Draco Malfoy was masturbating in her shower.
Well, someone who looked exactly like Malfoy, except for the cat ears, bushy white tail and mint collar, was masturbating in her shower, whimpering her name.
Realisation struck Hermione: Draco Malfoy was an Animagus. For over two weeks she had housed him as her guest, transformed into the feline she had grown so fond of.
The feline she had cuddled with. The feline she had shared her bed with. The feline she had blinked "I love you" to. The feline she had let keep her company at all times - even while she was bathing!
The anger and betrayal she should have felt were immediately erased by his whining, " Please. "
His eyes were pressed shut tightly, so he had not noticed her yet. The patter of water had drowned out the sound of her footfalls. If he opened his eyes, he would look right at her. He would definitely see the arousal in them, heat pooling in her core.
Her gaze could not steer clear of his hand wrapped around his hard cock. The way he stroked up and down, paid special attention to his shiny red glans, had her mesmerized. And the sounds he made! He panted and whined and keened. His abdominal muscles rippled and his thighs flexed, telltale signs of him getting close. As he became more frantic in his movements, his cat ears began twitching and his tail wrapped around one of his legs, clenching and unclenching in rhythm with his hand's pumping. Throughout everything his scattered "Hermione" and "Please" could be heard.
Draco Malfoy was getting off to thoughts of her and Hermione did not mind it one bit. She loved it, actually, and could not wait to see him come undone. Good Godric, hopefully he kept his eyes closed so she could watch it. Because, if Hermione was sure of one thing, it was that Malfoy would freeze the moment he saw her.
Fortuna, however, was on Hermione's side. Malfoy threw his head back in pleasure and grabbed his balls with his other hand. The closer he came to his release, the faster he stroked himself, the more his words got slurred into each other.
"Pleasepleasepleaseplease." Hermione pressed her legs together to relieve the itch to touch herself.
"MayIcome?MayIcome?MayIcome?MayIcome?" He begged so nicely that Hermione was tempted to give him her permission to do so. Only sinking her teeth into her tongue kept "Come for me", three simple words, from escaping her lips.
One final pump and he pulled his hand off his erection. His groan echoed through the room, loud and strangled. His whole body pulled taut and his penis jerked. A vein stood out clearly on his neck.
He did not come.
The realisation that Malfoy was not only masturbating, but edging himself to thoughts of her, shot like lightning through her. Although she did not take part in this edging session of his, the knowledge that in his fantasy she had the power turned her on. Withstanding the urge to come, he panted and balled his hands into fists. A long whine escaped his lips as his muscles relaxed. He had not fallen off the edge.
"Fuck!" he cursed, his lungs heaving in gulps of air.
"Just one more." One more?! How many rounds had he already gone? Was this his usual pastime when she was at work? Hermione wondered how far he would get on her little click counter that she kept in her bedside table. The highest number she had ever gotten from Percy enduring her teasing was six. Seven remained the magical number she strived to obtain, consecutively of course with no breaks in between.
"Sweet Salazar, anything for you, Hermione." The reverent way he spoke her name, every syllable filled with need and desire, made Hermione bite down harder on her tongue. His hand wandered back to his aching cock, softly running his fingers up and down his shaft, caressing himself.
"I'll be good. So good for you ." His head remained thrown back, but she could see his tongue darting out of his mouth to swipe over his lips. Was he imagining her sitting on his face, pressing her wet core onto his starving mouth? Hermione swallowed thickly, for that sure was the scene playing out in her mind right at this moment. It did not take long before he had switched from gentle caresses back to his strong hold, swiping up and down his length. It took him no time at all to bring himself dangerously close to the edge, once more. Like before, Malfoy released a string of "May I come?" and this time Hermione could not hold back and answered with a loud and clear, "You may come".
One second his head snapped upright, his eyes blown wide open, staring at her, and in the next second he convulsed, coming like she had told him to. The shocked expression on his face was immediately washed off as bliss settled in his grey eyes. His cheeks were the color of rose petals, flushed pink. Spurt after spurt, he ejaculated, moaning each time.
"Good boy," Hermione cooed, gaining a final spasm of euphoria from him. He had come a lot, he must have been pent up for days.
Just when he had come down from his high, it dawned upon her what she had done. Malfoy was not her 'good boy'; they had never agreed on anything like this. She had ripped the orgasm from him without his consent, regardless whether he had wished for something like this in his fantasy or not.
In fact, Hermione was not even sure whether it was something she wanted. After all, only a couple of minutes had passed since she had learned of his presence in her home. In the heat of the moment, she had given in to her desires, but after the big finale, she turned cold inside. This was wrong, on so many levels.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," she apologized and transfigured some of her towels into clothes for him. "I think we should talk."
She did not wait for his reply; he would find her when he was decent again.
The table was set for two in her kitchen and Sunday's curry was heating up in the oven, when Malfoy appeared in the doorframe. His cat ears were pressed flat to his head and his tail hung limp to the floor. For a man of his height, he looked so small, head ducked low.
"Have a seat," she commented and gestured towards the chair opposite her, his usual seat. Tentatively, he sat down and put the napkin in his lap. When she began eating, he followed suit. Hermione needed the time to mull over how best to approach this. He had been living in her home for more than two weeks in the guise of a cat. She had inserted herself in his sexual fantasy and forced him to come. There certainly was a lot of blame to go around.
"I have nowhere else to go." His statement shattered the silence between them and any words she had been in the process of laying out. That one sentence wrecked her. He was so pitiful in the way that he gazed at her, his silver eyes swimming with fear and sadness, that Hermione swallowed anything she wanted to say and opted for, "You can sleep on the couch" instead.
That was it.
TuesdayWhile Hermione had easily shut out the fact that she was housing Draco Malfoy in her flat, going to bed shortly after their meal, it was hard to ignore the change the next day. The first thing Hermione noticed upon waking up was the absence of her feline friend in her bed, no warm ball of fur pressed up against her. Her hand had moved over the mattress in search of him before reality hit her. There was no feline friend. There never had been a feline friend. All there had ever been was Draco Malfoy in his Animagus form, deceiving her.
A short burst of anger flared up inside her, quickly doused by the memory of his pitiful look. Sighing in frustration, she threw on her dressing gown and went into the living room to wake him up. He was still fast asleep when she leant over the backrest of her couch. His chest rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm, his face relaxed. Angelic was the word that came to her mind as she observed him.
She gazed down upon his sleeping form for far longer than was sensible, her fingers itching to touch his cat ears. In the end, she balled her hands into tight fists and cleared her throat. His eyes fluttering open, Malfoy yawned and stretched, so cat-like in his movements.
"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted her, his voice still hoarse from sleep. Taken aback that he continued to call her by her first name outside of his shower fantasy, Hermione knit her eyebrows together.
"Morning, Malfoy ," she said coolly, biting her tongue the moment she watched his ears press flat onto his head. His formerly open features became guarded and instead of looking her in the eye he kept his gaze low, clearly hurt by her tone.
Swallowing thickly, Hermione stood up straight and swayed from one foot to the other.
"I'm making breakfast if you want some." Hermione could have hit herself for her wording. A simple "let's have breakfast" would have been a thousand times better than her weak attempt at hosting a… human guest. The way she had said it, the words made it sound like he was a burden to her, far from welcome in her home. Before she could fuck up any more than she already had, she turned around and went to the kitchen, leaving the door open behind her as a sign for him to follow.
It did not take him long to join her in the kitchen, standing awkwardly behind her.
"Can I help you?" he asked, surprising her with his offer. Hermione had never thought of Draco Malfoy as a homely type of guy. Still, she did not want to stay on the rude path she had taken with him, so she looked around for something he could do.
After all, she never knew how much longer Theo would be gone, forcing her to shelter Malfoy. Establishing a civil relationship could only help with making his stay bearable.
"Um, you could scramble some eggs." Malfoy must have made himself familiar with her kitchen, for he found a bowl to mix the eggs in right away and began the task she had given him.
Another unwelcome change from switching from her feline friend to Draco Malfoy was the awkward silence during breakfast. Eating alone in silence was fine with Hermione. Sitting together at the table, only the clatter of cutlery against plates disturbing the quiet was not. However, she just could not find a good way to start a conversation. Anything that came to her mind could have been taken as an accusation - "so you've been an Animagus this whole time…" - or would have led her back to a topic she did not want to bring up - "would you have come clean about being an Animagus had I not happened to walk in on you… you know?"
For now, their mutual arrangement to steer clear of awkward conversation with awkward silence functioned just fine in keeping the atmosphere civil.
Something that had not changed about Malfoy, even after his transformation back to human, was his habit of trailing behind her. Now, however, he tended to catch up with this behaviour and tried to correct it, which left him hovering aimlessly in corners of her flat, reverting back to following her soon enough, regardless. As it became time for her to leave for work, he stood in his usual spot, fidgeting with his collar, his eyes never leaving her as she stepped into the fireplace. Hermione's hand was raised to throw the Floo powder as he blurted, "Have a nice day at work!"
Startled, Hermione blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what he had just said. Well, she had heard him loud and clear but the words would not compute in her head. "Um,... thanks, Malfoy," was all she came up with in the form of a reply, which did not bode well with him. He visibly flinched at her words, his tail twitching agitatedly.
"Draco," he said insistently, fixing her with his bright silver eyes. "I liked it better when you called me Draco." Again she heard him, but had a hard time processing it. They did not call each other by their first names, they never had. Then again, Hermione realized that this standard was solely true for their former selves, rivals in Hogwarts, and did not apply to them now, flat mates by chance.
"Thank you, Draco ," she emphasised his name, his lips curling up the tiniest bit and his tail swaying side to side. Suppressing a smile of her own at his pleased reaction, she extended her arm backwards to Floo to work, but yet again, he stopped her, this time blurting out, "When will you be home?" Home. Sure, it was her home, but did he also refer to it as his home after his two week stay?
"Six." It came out more like a question than a statement, her voice faltering. With the slightest motion, Draco shook his head no, his left ear twitching.
"You should bring your research home. You keep complaining about the moldy smell inside the archives, after all." Worrying her bottom lip, Hermione tried to counter his reasoning, but he was right: she hated the smell in the archives.
Still, she did not want to give in, so she replied, "I'll see about it," and called for the ministry, the Floo whisking her away.
That day, the moist, moldy smell that clung to every shelf in the archive bothered her even more than usual. Besides her werewolf research she had another subject on her list that she would not - could not - take home with her: Draco Malfoy. It did not take long to find out that he had registered as an Animagus, abiding by the rules of the ministry. What took her far longer was her research into anything else she could find out about him. All the Daily Prophet articles about his trial, she had read at that time. After the trial, news about him died down quickly, only his mother's charity popped up in the papers occasionally. The last record on Draco was the article about his breakdown in St. Mungo's. After that incident, there was not even a mention of him anywhere in the newspaper.
It was already past noon when she wrapped up her research on Draco, and gathered any materials she might need for her work at home. She had debated all morning with herself whether she should take his advice, but could not see any flaw in his reasoning. The archives stank, it was as plain and simple as that. As her department head did not mind her working at the ministry or from home in the research phase either way, Hermione shrunk down her files and returned home.
Having lounged on her couch, Draco sprung up as she exited the fireplace, his tail swaying in glee at her early arrival. With his cat features it was so much easier to read him, but also so much harder for Hermione to make sense of him. Her brain had a hard time catching up. In her mind, the Draco Malfoy timeline was messed up. There were years of knowledge from their Hogwarts days, followed by the occasional ministry lift ride shortly after the war, where they did not exchange words and now there was her catboy - the catboy, who could not hide his joy at seeing her.
She must have stared at him too long, Draco was fidgeting with his collar again.
"You're back early," he stated the obvious, breaking the silence between them.
"Yeah, you were right, I really hate the smell of the archives." Hermione admitted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Merlin , they had to find a way to be more natural around each other.
"I'll be working in my office, " she announced and he nodded his head, quiet settling over them once more.
Two hours in, a knock drew her attention from the files spread across her desk, sticky notes pinned to various passages of text she might be able to use to make her case before the Wizengamot.
"Come in," Hermione called and Draco entered, a tray balanced on one hand.
"I made you some tea." As her desk was completely covered in paper, he conjured a small table to match the height of her desk and set the tray down there for her.
"Thank you, Draco." Although his features remained the same, a short twitch of his ear and the sway of his tail gave away his feelings. When it came to praise, catboy Draco was no different from cat Draco. The words 'good boy' lay waiting on her tongue, but would not pass her lips. Whether human Draco's reaction would differ from cat Draco's, Hermione, would not know. Restraining herself from thinking about her continued want to call him the endearment, she focused on her work, getting completely in the zone.
She continued to prepare for her big day tomorrow, well into the night. If everything went according to plan, a great portion of the Wizengamot's complaints with her first draft would be addressed and eliminated in one single strike; they would not see it coming.
Copious notes were scattered all over her files, reminding her of important passages in the texts. Summarising and putting them in order, took Hermione even longer than writing them, if that was even possible. It had only been when a sneeze disturbed her thoughts, that she noticed Draco had never left her home office after serving her tea but had sat down in the comfy armchair in the corner. Just like before the big reveal, he kept her company.
WednesdayAt two a.m. Draco stood from his armchair and gently pried the presentation cue cards from her hands.
"That's enough. Nothing good will come from fretting any longer over your presentation." Admitting to herself that he was probably right, Hermione sighed, and with a flick of her wand, her files, notes and anything else neatly arranged itself on her desk.
For hours he had listened to her presentations and given valuable feedback. On her request, Draco had even gone so far as to play the role of representative of the Wizengamot, shooting one taxing question after the other at her, making outrageous claims that only those antiquated witches and wizards could come up with. The longer he kept prodding, the faster Hermione had become in her thinking, keeping on her feet. After bringing up their favourite argument, namely "We've always done it this way", she snapped, though, giving him every reason why statements like that were wrong. When she finished her monologue, he had grinned, which irritated her more than anything he had done as representative of the Wizengamot in this rehearsal.
"What!?" His ears stood to attention and she regretted the sharp tone she had used.
"Nothing, nothing. You are just so passionate. Please, go on." Nobody had called her passionate before.
Obsessed? - Yes, countless times.
Passionate? - No, never.
She could not help but smile and rant on about all of the Wizengamot's flaws .
With the last of her colorful notes, each color indicating another category of "flaw", settling into a stack, the amount of work she had accomplished dawned upon her.
Stepping around her desk, Hermione could not hold back from glancing back at the paperwork that covered it. Her eyes swiping over the result of hours of work, she murmured, "I wonder if it'll be enough…" because she knew she could not take another defeat like the one she had received the week before. Hermione needed a win, badly, even if it was just a small one.
"I doubt any elders of the Wizengamot will be able to find fault in your reasoning. No matter their tactics, you've got this," he reaffirmed, his hand on her lower back nudging her towards the door, away from her desk. Her feet unwillingly stepped forwards, hesitating, her eyes looking over her shoulder to her notes.
"Don't let your work be wasted by going into the presentation all tired and sleepy, Hermione." Hermione . Him calling her by her name retained its novelty. He said the name with such ease, his lips shaping each syllable precisely, while Hermione still had problems not calling him Malfoy or worse: good boy . Before either could slip from her mouth she bit the inside of her cheek and followed his advice. Once in bed, sleep took her in no time.
Her alarm barely managed to drag her from her deep sleep a couple of hours later. Remembering her presentation was today, she shot out of bed, threw on her dressing gown and ran to the kitchen. There were still so many things she had to prepare for at work. Thankfully, Draco had risen early and a steaming cup of tea was already awaiting her when she stormed into the kitchen.
"Morning," he greeted her, in the middle of the process of buttering some toast. An amused smile graced his lips as he took in her state of dress and messy bed hair. "You should probably go get a quick shower, unless it's part of your tactic: scaring the Wizengamot with that hair of yours," he said, chuckling. "Breakfast will be ready, once you're finished." His teasing had a completely different quality to it than it used to have, light-hearted and sweet. Had he been Harry or Ron she would have shot something witty back, but his remark caught her off guard.
Watching him move on to spreading jam on the toast, Hermione worried her bottom lip, debating on whether she should comment on her inkling that the copious amount of butter and jam was there to disguise his lackluster toasting skills or not. After he turned back to her and raised his brow as if to ask, "what are you still doing here?", she huffed and went to take a shower, not because he had told her so, but because she wanted to.
Like he had promised, breakfast stood ready on her laid out kitchen table: tea still steaming - definitely a stasis charm there - toast, both plain and with butter and jam, scrambled eggs, beans. Hermione wished she could appreciate his efforts more but the clock was ticking and werewolves certainly would not all of a sudden gain equal rights for themselves. She hastily shoveled down the eggs and beans, took a couple of sips of her tea, grabbed a piece of toast and said goodbye to Draco.
"Fingers cro-" was what she heard before emerging in the ministry, the vision of Draco crossing his fingers still fresh. Merlin , he was such a good boy.
The Floo catapulting her through space did not combine well with the Gigglewater she had drunk, a pelt of laughter ripping from her lungs.
"So, I guess it went well with the Wizengamot?" a pair of long legs in black trousers asked her, standing just outside the range of her fireplace, a white tail swaying from left to right. Her review with the Wizengamot had gone better than well, fantastic actually. She had wiped their stupid superior smirks straight off of their faces, dealing one blow after the other with the files she had prepared. A wide grin plastered to her face, Hermione ducked out of the hearth and jumped to hug Draco, who was so much taller than herself.
Contrary to anything she had an-anti-antici… thought coming, Draco took her by her shoulders and held her at arm's length away from him.
"You're drunk," he stated, his eyebrows knitted, making a crease form between them.
"And you, mister , are no fun." The s of 'mister' was certainly wetter in her pronounciation than usual. Letting her head loll back, suddenly heavy on her shoulders, she looked up at him with his stupid concerned face.
"I liked cat Draco better," she complained, pouting. "You were so much more fun then, always cuddly and snuggly." Her heart warmed at the memories of her fond times with her feline friend.
Draco's eyes darted between hers, his ears twitching, first left then right. He opened and closed his mouth as if to say something, but did not. Instead, he pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her in an embrace. Warmth spread throughout her body, her arms automatically moving to encircle his waist, drawing him closer to her.
"I take it back, I like this waaaaaay better," she murmured into his chest, squeezing him tight. In response, a deep purr resonated through him. A surprised puff of air escaped her and she peered up at him, grinning.
"You can still do that?" Draco nodded, bending lower to rub his cheek against the crown of her head, another content purr vibrating under her touch. For a couple of minutes longer, Hermione just basked in his warmth, his head working its way down the side of her face and lower into the crook of her neck, all the while rubbing against her. His ears twitching every once in a while tickled the sensitive skin of her neck, Hermione giggled. The movement becoming too much for her, she drew back, touching her neck where he had rubbed his cheek. His arms fell from around her, smacking against his sides.
"I'm sorry, I got carried away." His voice sounded hollow and his lips were pressed into a thin line.
"Don't be stupid, Draco. I liked that," Hermione countered. Thankfully, her calling him by his name had not lost its magic and his ears perked right up, his tail swaying happily.
Gnawing at her lower lip Hermione considered something, her alcohol addled mind quickly deciding to just go for it.
"May I touch your ears? I've been dying to do so," she blurted the admission, her hand already halfway up to his head. A little nod was all the permission she needed to run her fingers along the rim of his ears, gently nudging the tips. At the contact, he shivered, squeezing his eyes shut and standing tall again.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Not knowing what she had done wrong, her hand still hovered in the air.
"Don't be stupid, Hermione. I liked that." He laughed as her mouth fell open at him echoing her words from just moments ago. Relieved that she had not done anything wrong, but also slightly annoyed that he had parrotted her, she lightly slapped his arm and announced, "Let's eat ice cream for dinner," before stomping into the kitchen in mock offense.
ThursdayThe sun rays streaming into her bedroom seemed blazingly bright to Hermione, her head aching horribly. Groaning, she shielded her eyes from the light with her arm, a fluttering touch against her skin. Only when the fluttering changed to poking did Hermione notice that there was a tiny origami bird trying to attract her attention.
As she plucked the flying note from the air, it read: "anti-hangover potion on your bedside table" in elegant handwriting. Not only was an anti-hangover potion on her bedside table, but also a glass of water and the Daily Prophet. Having read Draco's note she threw it to the side. To her surprise, though, the note refolded itself into a bird and flew from the room. Not long after, there was a knock on her door before Draco poked his head around the door.
"You're up. Do you want some breakfast?" The thought of food alone had Hermione uncork the potion faster and tip her head back to drink the purple liquid in one big gulp.
"No, thanks. I don't think I can stomach anything just yet." She grimaced at the taste of the potion, her headache subsiding, however.
Crossing his feet at the ankles, he leant in the doorway, smirking at her, his tail swaying lazily from side to side.
"Take your time," he advised and disappeared again.
With her headache almost gone by the time the door closed behind him, Hermione could only think of him as her good boy again. It was just too sweet how he cared for and looked after her for the endearment not to pop into her mind.
As her head of department had made her swear to only work from home for the rest of the week if she even worked at all, Hermione stayed in bed, reading the Daily Prophet and lazing around. It was already well past noon before Hermione left the comfort of her bed, wrapped herself into her dressing gown and trudged into her kitchen to grab a bite to eat. Buttered toast was all she could stomach, though.
She had also taken some extra time to contemplate the previous night. Not only had she jumped Draco, asked him for permission to touch his ears, had ice cream for dinner but she had also danced with him. She remembered his eyes going wide oh, so clearly, as she had asked him to dance with her. What she had meant was some simple Muggle style of dancing, two feet apart, separately moving to the music.
What he had understood was classical Wizarding dancing, very similar to ballroom dancing. Draco had gently taken her hand and drawn her closer to him, his other hand resting on her lower back in an almost-not-there touch. After she had adjusted to this kind of dancing, her alcohol-addled mind having problems remembering the sequence, stepping on his toes a couple of times, he had routinely guided her through the living room, maneuvering them around the furniture. The longer they danced, the more she remembered the steps from their fourth year, Draco twirling and lifting her, while she giggled like a little girl, despite the Gigglewater's effect having worn off a long time ago.
Merlin , she had to steer clear of Gigglewater the next time she wanted to celebrate anything. Draco had been incredibly indulgent with her, accepting any of her proposals. Nibbling on her toast, she pondered over whether she had crossed a line with him again or not. When he checked in on her that morning, he had been fine, though, so he must have been okay with it. If she thought back to him leaning in her door frame, Hermione would dare to say that he had gotten more relaxed around her, definitely less stiff.
Shaking her head, freeing her mind of those thoughts, Hermione finished her toast and went into her home office.
She had worked for a couple of hours, when there was a knock on her door. Draco, this time without the tea tray. Instead, he had his arms crossed over his chest.
"Didn't you tell me you have the rest of the week off?" he inquired, raising one of his blond brows.
"My boss told me to stay home and only do the necessary," she countered, pinning a note to the side of a file.
A low yowl had her abandon her notes, looking back up at him. His ears twitching irritably, and his face set in a scowl, Draco stalked towards her. Reaching over her desk, his large hand enclosed hers, keeping her from pinning further notes down.
"Take a break, Hermione. You're not meant to work today." His voice was soft, yet firm.
"I will, I will. I just want to finish this," she said, trying to brush him off, but his hold on her hand only became stronger as she tried to pull her hand free from his grasp.
"And after this, you'll come up with another thing you just want to finish until it's two am again." It had apparently taken Draco no time to learn her habits. Knowing that he was right, Hermione worried her bottom lip and tried to come up with something that would convince him to let her continue for another hour… or four.
"But-" she started, being immediately cut off by Draco's, "No buts. I already drew you a bath and you're not letting it go cold." The knowledge that he had idly sat by during her Sunday bath right after his arrival had been pushed to the back of her mind up until now. As the memory resurfaced, heat crawled up her neck and into her cheeks.
"But…" she tried again, still with no good reasons at hand.
"Now," he insisted, his grip on her hand loosening as his thumb brushed along her fingers. The sudden intimacy of his touch startled Hermione and she quickly pulled her hand back.
"You're right, I guess." Avoiding his eyes, she stepped around her desk and fearing her voice might crack if she said any more, she swiftly exited her office. To her dismay, Draco followed closely behind, reprimanding her with a "That's not the way to your bathroom, Hermione", when she opened the door to her living room.
"I know, Draco, I've been living here for far longer than you have, thank you very much." She had not been able to hold the retort back. Only when she had said it, did she realize how else Draco could interpret her meaning. Good Godric , she had meant it as light-hearted banter.
He stood rooted to the spot in her hallway, when she exited the living room shortly after.
"Oh…" He must not have planned to say it out loud for he quickly averted his eyes.
Disappointment was etched on his features, his ears hanging to the sides.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" He cut her off with a wave of his hand, a forced smile on his lips.
"It's fine. I just thought we might continue reading it together." Hermione was halfway into an apologetic monologue about her poor choice of words and Draco was merely feeling down about her discontinuing their little book club?! While he tried to convey being fine with his face, his ears and tail gave him away. To distract from his apparent slip of the tongue, he played with the silver plaque on his collar.
If the book really was the only reason for his disappointment, Hermione could easily deviate. "I'll read a magazine, then." Her decision to change her reading material earned her the faintest blush and a quick happy swish of the tail from Draco.
In the bathroom, Hermione found that Draco had not simply run her a bath, but had also prepared a tray with wine and cheese for her. This time, with the door closed behind her and him most likely down the hall in the living room, Hermione could not suppress the "good boy" any longer.
Although the room was completely still, she could hear running water and panting. If she closed her eyes, she was sure that the memories from Monday, Draco edging himself to thoughts of her, would be clear as day before her. Throwing her magazine onto the laundry box next to the tray, Hermione vanished her clothes and sunk into the water.
Reading was the last thing on her mind at that moment. Casting a silencing charm on the door, in case Draco roamed the hallway, Hermione called the scene she had imagined on Monday, riding Draco's face, his tongue eagerly plunging into her wet core, to mind. Her fingers circled her clit in quick rough strokes. In her fantasy, Draco ate her out with gusto, like a man starving.
"Good boy," Hermione cooed as she caressed her labia. "My good, good boy." Every good boy she had kept to herself over the last couple of days emerged now, her fingers pushing into her, massaging the spongy spot inside her, while she pressed the heel of her hand against her mound. With every "good boy" falling from her lips, her insides wound a little tighter. The tighter the knot inside her pulled, the louder her mind replayed his "Pleasepleaseplease."
"Oh no, Draco, you know you aren't allowed to come before me," she chastised, the corners of her lips pulling up into a smirk as her hips ground harder against her hand. Somewhere in a far corner of her mind, she knew that this was wrong, an unsuspecting Draco sitting in the living room just down the hall, but ever since she had watched him come undone, she had not been able to shake it from her mind. The scream she released as she came, made her grateful for her foresight to put up the silencing charm. Coming down from her high, she imagined licking her juices off of Draco's face, praising him, while he repeatedly begged her to let him come.
If she were alone at home, Hermione would keep on pleasuring herself over and over, his necessary restraint to not come until she allowed him to, urging her on. As it stood, Hermione refrained from any further Draco-fantasy-induced orgasms.
Frustrated beyond reason with her yearning to find out what fantasies Draco had about her and her near certainty that the fantasy would never transition into reality, Hermione reached for the tray and stuffed cheese cubes into her mouth. Relaxation did not settle in, her brain constantly reminding her that if she wanted to know for sure, all she had to do was confront Draco about it.
" Merlin , Hermione, get your shit together," she scolded herself, dragging her wet hands down over her flushed face. The hot water and red wine only served to make her mind foggier, more vulnerable for another deep dive into what could be. Her fingertips were already skimming her clit for a second round, when Hermione groaned and stood from the bathtub. Only a cold shower could be any semblance of help now.
Stepping dripping wet out of the tub and into her shower, Hermione gasped when cold water hit her hot skin, each droplet like a needle of ice. Afraid her brain would insist on plaguing her with more fantasies of Draco and subsequently the need to bring herself to completion again, Hermione did not leave the shower until just before her teeth began clattering because of the cold. It was all to no avail, though, the thought of how wonderfully Draco would stretch her with that big cock of his jumping to the forefront of her mind, the moment her aching limbs had warmed up to room temperature.
Her hand swiped away the fog from her mirror, clearing the view. Glancing back at her was a woman with wide-blown pupils, her eyes dark and her cheeks red, her wet tresses falling over her shoulders.
"This has to stop," she commanded herself and pushed her treacherous thoughts all the way to the back of her mind, where they had come from. To occupy her overactive mind, Hermione thought about work. The state of werewolf rights could put a dampener on anything.
Dressed in her comfiest loungewear, Hermione headed straight for her office, certain that should she go into the living room first, Draco would repeat his reminder that it was her day off. To her surprise, she found Draco sitting behind her desk, one of her files in hand, his face set in concentration.
"Um… what are you doing ?" Again with the wording. Had she always been such an Erumpent in a potions shop? Draco, however, did not seem to notice her poor choice of words and pinned a note into her file. Having done that, he looked up at her.
"I just thought I might help you with those," he commented and indeed the notes on her files had multiplied.
"Might I have a look?" she asked, slightly miffed that he had touched her work without her permission. Still, she was curious as to what he could have come up with that she had not already noted down.
Draco handed her the file he was currently working on, a couple others already set aside, and Hermione began scanning his notes, penned in beautiful cursive. As it turned out, there was a lot she had thought of, but Draco had viewed it from a different perspective and came up with plenty of valid points.
"This is," she turned to the next page where more annotations littered the text, "brilliant, Draco." Drawn in by the work of his mind, Hermione could not tear her eyes away from the file, turning page after page, practically inhaling what he had written.
"Draco…" for a second she was at a loss for words, unable to express her gratitude. A thousand words, a hymn for his ingenuity really, buzzed in her mind. In the end only a simple, "Thank you so so much", won out.
Draco sighed, his shoulders relaxing and his tail swaying. "Good. I was worried you'd be cross with me for imposing myself on your project." Setting the file down, Hermione stepped around her desk to stand beside him.
"To be honest, I was a little irritated when I came in here and saw you scribbling away in my files."
His face betrayed no emotion, but his ears twitched, shifting lower.
" But what you did is very valuable to my project, Draco." She smiled at him and his ear perked back up, the flick of his tail picking up its pace. "If all those files have notes like this," she pointed towards the one she had skimmed through so far, "then this will definitely help speed up the process. So-" While she talked, Hermione had unconsciously reached out her hand, which hung in the air close to his head now, indecisive whether she should pet him or not.
Reading her intention, Draco brought his head closer to her hand, inviting her to do as she had planned.
"I'm really glad you did what you did." As her finger scratched behind his ears, Draco closed his eyes, relishing in her caresses and purred deeply. Concealed from his eyes, Hermione's lips silently formed the words "good boy".
FridayThe heavenly smell of fresh coffee greated her after her long evening of integrating Draco's notes and mulling over some things they implied. The smell however had to be part of a very pleasant dream, for Hermione only had a very small supply of instant coffee at home that reeked of something dreadful. Hermione pulled her blanket tighter around herself and tried to prolong this wonderful dream. A timid knock on her door dashed any hopes of doing so.
"Come in," she called to Draco and as he opened the door more of that divine smell wafted into her bedroom.
"Mmmmh, that smells delicious," Hermione hummed, fanning air towards her nose to get a better whiff, a sweet note mixing with the caramelized nutty aroma of coffee.
Mirroring her, Draco closed his eyes and raised his nose, flaring his nostrils, fully concentrating on the aroma. His tongue darted out of his mouth and languidly licked his lips. A mixture of a deep throaty mmmh and a purr escaped his throat, his eyes turning hungry as he looked back at her.
"You're hungry, huh?" Hermione winked at him as she pushed her blanket to the side and moved her legs to sit on the edge of her bed. Within the blink of an eye, Draco stared at her, his eyes open wide, then he went stock-still, not even his ears twitched.
"Breakfast's ready," he announced a little too loudly and jerked his body around, hurrying out of the room and towards the kitchen. The one time she tried to be playful and fun, he of course had to react strangely. Hermione tsked and threw on her dressing gown. Her nose practically carried her along towards the stream of sweet flavour coming from the kitchen. Joining him in the kitchen, Hermione gasped in surprise when she saw what Draco had prepared for them. The table was set, laden with sweet treats: pain au chocolat, palmier, clafoutis, eclairs and an assortment of little tartlets.
"Did you bake these?" she asked, shocked at what he had put together in just one night.
"Most certainly not." Draco laughed at her astounded face, his shoulders shaking with every boom of laughter that ripped from him.
Feeling a little stupid for assuming he had baked the delicacies himself, Hermione crossed her arms, hugging herself.
"So, where did you get them from? House elves?" House elves were clearly the most logical explanation, what with Draco growing up in a house full of them, the poor creatures fulfilling each of their little master's wishes.
At her sharper tone upon mentioning house elves, he finally stopped laughing. There, she had done it again! Her accusatory question had plunged them into an awkward silence. Thinking of a new conversation starter, Hermione let her eyes wander around the kitchen. A folded paper bag lay on her counter, a logo in the shape of a rose printed onto it.
Draco watched her unfold the bag but did not say anything as it pretty much spoke for itself.
"The Rose Cafe…" she read aloud, turning towards him, holding up the bag. "I've never heard of that one. Is it somewhere off Diagon Alley?" It had to be a very recent opening, otherwise Ginny would have already dragged her there, given the fact that Ginny was always on the lookout for new restaurants, bars and cafes.
Draco smirked as if he had a secret. "Not Wizarding London."
"You went to Hogsmeade to get breakfast?!" The gesture was both insane and sweet at the same time, that he would go to such lengths just for some baked goods and coffee.
A faint chuckle softened the lines of Draco's face. Slightly shaking his head, he took a knife and cut one of the tartlets in half, apple if Hermione was not mistaken. With a twinkle in his eyes he kept eye contact with her as he took a bite of the tartlet.
He had to be aware that not knowing made her go crazy. Deliberately chewing oh so slowly, Draco observed her as her eyes darted back to the paper bag again and again in the hope that it would give her a clue of some sort.
"You should unfold it once more," he said, giving her a hint to put her out of her misery, licking some sugar off his thumb. Momentarily distracted by his tongue swiping over his finger, Hermione blinked, her eyelids fluttering, before she decidedly looked away to inspect the bag. The front of the bag only bore the rose emblem, no reference to its location. Except for the logo, both the back and the front were blank. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she turned the bag over and over, frustration rising within her.
"Okay, you win. Just tell me where you got it from," she huffed, inspecting the rose more closely.
Instead of straight out answering her, Draco made a motion as if tipping something over to look at the bottom. And there it was, a miniature version of the rose logo and beneath it, the address of the cafe. The address seemed familiar, but did not ring a bell for Hermione. What was certain though, was that he had gotten it neither from Diagon Alley nor from Hogsmeade but from, "Muggle London?"
"10 points to Gryffindor," he congratulated her for finally figuring it out. "It's not that far from your flat, just two streets away."
Shocked and confused, Hermione studied the address more closely, the postcode indeed was very close to hers.
"How did you even find this cafe? Are you going for walks while I'm at work?" No matter how she thought about this, it just made no sense to Hermione that Draco would know a cafe in her neighbourhood and she did not. She liked to take walks around the block, keeping to a few well-trodden paths. Maybe she should branch out some more, rediscover her neighbourhood if it had kept a cafe offering such delicacies hidden from her.
Again, Draco shook his head and tapped his nose in lieu of an answer. That he would not let her in on his little secret annoyed Hermione intensely, and she rolled her eyes.
"Fine, keep your secret," she said in annoyance, tossing the bag back onto the counter before finally sitting down with him, grabbing the other half of his tartlet. An amused glint sparked in his eyes as he watched her chew, taking her anger out on the delicious sweet.
"I could smell it, Hermione. It's been torturing me for days, so today I went for it." His triumphant smile at having her fooled, faded into a sheepish grin as he added: " Although , I have to admit that I had to borrow some Muggle money from you."
Blinking slowly, her brain tried to make sense of the pieces of information Draco had just provided her with. Hermione was unsure what amazed her more: the fact that Draco could smell things from as far as two streets away or that he knew how to handle Muggle money, something most wizards struggled with, like the Knuts, Sickles and Galleons conversion rate was not a hot mess.
Taking another bite of her tartlet with way less force now that she had found out how he knew about the cafe in her neighbourhood, Hermione could savour the rich taste of apple. Between two bites, Hermione took a sip of her coffee, the slightly bitter taste mixing beautifully with the sweet apple flavour.
"So, do you go outside often?" she tried to elicit further details about his trip to the cafe.
For one moment he hesitated, his eyes darting between hers before he answered. "Never, actually." Hermione could swear his cheeks had turned the softest shade of pink as he fumbled with his collar before he added, "but I wanted to surprise you."
The silver tag made high metallic sounds as Draco kept flicking it with his finger.
"Theo will have to reimburse you," he finished lamely, clearly embarrassed that he had technically not gifted the breakfast to her.
"Theo?" Hermione wondered what he was going on about.
"You remember his letter? He guaranteed that he would compensate you." His explanation had Hermione snort in response.
"I remember. It also stated that I should put your leash on 'to ascertain obedience'," she said, using air quotes on the latter part, Theo's wording of his postscript having been just too strange for her to forget.
Draco hissed and clutched the front of his collar where one would attach the leash, a red line drawn above it by the sweep of his fingernails, a single drop of blood forming on his pale neck.
Once again, Hermione's and Draco's sense of humor differed greatly and Hermione had hurt him with her attempt at a light-hearted joke.
"Draco," Hermione gasped and stood to reach across the table. She wanted to gently touch his hand, in the hopes that he would relax his white-knuckled grip. Instead, he shot up from his chair before she could touch him and shuffled away from her, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor. His crass reaction had Hermione startled and confused. Had she known that the mention of the leash had him this on edge, the word would have never come across her lips.
" Merlin , I'm sorry! That was just a joke. I'd never do such a thing to you." Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, Hermione stepped around the table towards him, Draco however, backed further away from her.
"Please, just let me have a look at your neck. You hurt yourself," she reasoned with him, his eyes only getting bigger the closer she came.
"I'll take care of it myself!" His shout was awfully loud in her small kitchen.
Shocked at his outburst, Hermione stopped advancing towards him, completely frozen in her movements. Draco, on the other hand, was heaving in deep breaths, his chest rising and falling. As his breathing calmed down, his features grew guarded. "Do you have a medi kit in your bathroom?" He asked between pants of breath, his hand finally relaxing around his collar, a streak of red painted on the back of his hand, where the drop of blood had run down.
"In the bottom drawer-" Before she could give him any more details on the whereabouts of her medi kit, buried somewhere in a drawer, Draco had already dashed past her and out of the kitchen.
Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes she waited, suddenly no longer hungry despite all the delicacies spread out in front of her.
This time she had fucked up badly. She had scared Draco so much, he had been afraid of her touching him, like she might physically discipline him with slaps and kicks. Her fist to his face was a complete one-off thing, never to happen again. Sure, she had told cat Draco that she wished to assault the Wizengamot, but that was all it was and would ever be: an empty threat.
When he did not return even after twenty minutes, Hermione became worried and timidly knocked on the bathroom door.
"Draco, are you okay in there?" No answer. Damn, this was bad. "I'm really sorry I said that. I didn't mean to upset you." Still, absolute silence on the other side of the door. Hermione swallowed thickly.
"I'd never put the leash on you." Desperation crawled into the tone of her voice and she pressed her ear up against the door, listening intently for any sign of movement.
"I'm fine." Surprisingly, his answer did not come from inside her bathroom but from her left, on the other side of the living room door. So, Draco had finished treating his cut and instead of having breakfast with her, had retreated into the living room?
Hermione's first instinct was to walk towards him, but she restrained herself and only turned towards him, afraid of scaring him. One wrong movement or wrong word could force him into flight again. Hermione's shoulders grew tense as she thought of something safe to say, something nice to say.
"I really liked your surprise, Draco," she said just loud enough so he would be able to hear her.
"Although you practically paid for the surprise yourself? What with me taking your money to do so." Draco snorted a laugh, the tension between them broken, Hermione released a breath she had not noticed that she had been holding.
"It'd be a waste not to eat it, either way." She shrugged and smiled, taking a cautious step towards him. Since he kept standing in the living room door frame, Hermione chanced another step and then another until she stopped two steps away from him.
"Will you have breakfast with me?" Hermione could have certainly just said, "Let's have breakfast", but she wanted to make sure Draco knew there was no obligation for him to join her, if he did not want to any longer. The metallic ting ting ting of his finger flicking against the silver tag filled the space between them, Draco was clearly weighing his options.
That she had upset him enough for him to have to consider her breakfast invitation, hurt Hermione, a rope coiling around her heart. Gradually, Hermione extended her hand, palm facing upwards, silently asking for him to take it. At his sides, his fists slowly unclenched and he accepted her peace offering by putting his much larger hand into hers, holding it gently. A shy smile settled onto his lips and the tiniest tinge of pink returned on his cheeks.
To avoid a relapse, Hermione decided not to mention the leash, his collar or even Theo for the time being, instead deciding to explain her future action plan for her werewolf law to Draco. It was nothing personal, but was still important to her and something he had shown interest in before.
They spent the rest of the day working on her new law, reviewing her current process and researching fields she had not yet considered. When he had silently trailed behind her into her office, a sigh of relief escaped Hermione's lips. During breakfast she had worried that he might only endure her presence for the time being. As he pulled the plush armchair from the corner of her office to stand opposite her desk, she had no doubt that his little episode was finally over.
Like the day before, Draco took her work and went over it again, adding notes of his own. Quickly catching up to her - Hermione was astounded with the pace of his work - Draco moved the armchair to sit beside her in the cramped space behind her desk, shuffling closer to have a good look in whatever file she read.
In the end, he went as far as leaning half across the armrest, leaving no room for her, so their arms brushed against one another and the occasional twitch of his cat ears tapped lightly against her hair... His eyes gliding over the letters,ever so slightly faster than hers, Draco dictated his comments on the paragraph for her to write them down. His voice turned low, a dark gravel; his breath whispering over the exposed skin of her neck.
The longer they reviewed the files, the more clustered their combined notes became on each page. Only when Hermione fell back in her reading of the file, Draco murmuring words into her ear that she could no longer fully grasp, did they call it a day.
