November 2001
It had been a week since they returned from London. Hermione scanned the Daily Prophet every morning it arrived, looking for the article that would surely be printed in bold about her and Draco. The two hadn't spoken in a private setting since the trip and she was starting to feel antsy.
Maybe he hadn't been serious and she had concocted these feelings in her head based on her hormones. Perhaps he was playing some kind of cruel joke on her or planning to use their night together as blackmail. He hadn't given her any clues as to what lay in store for them. In order to protect herself from any hurt, she waited for him to finally talk to her. She didn't want to appear desperate, Merlin! She was an independent, put together witch who didn't need to rely on a man whatsoever.
Her anxiety over the situation between them lowered her guard about the paper however. On Monday, now marking the second week since their return, she arrived in the Great Hall to find the students all in a rush, coupled over the paper. Her chest tightened. No, it couldn't be…
Draco was already sitting at the professor's table, his hand clutching a copy of the paper as he stared at it. Hermione rushed over and took her usual seat beside him. She snatched the paper out of his hands. Her fear had come true.
Plastered on the front page was a dark picture of Draco pinning her to the wall outside of the pub, her hands threaded through his hair. The loop showed her hand sliding up his neck to find itself wrapped in the blonde strands and she watched in horror as it played through a few times. Her eyes darted to the article below it.
War Heroine and Death Eater's Passionate Embrace
Hermione Granger, close friend of Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater acquitted of his crimes, were found in Muggle London sharing drinks at a small pub. The two appeared cozy, with Mr. Malfoy keeping his arm wrapped around Ms. Granger at all times. They shared quite a few drinks together, which seemed to loosen up any inhibitions.
The two departed the pub after their drinks and indulged themselves in each other once outside (pictured above). Their show of affection was so confidently intimate that one has to wonder, how long has this been going on?
Story continued on page 6.
Hermione flipped to page six. Her stomach swooped low at the other photograph next to the remainder of the article. It was of her and Draco, his arm hooked on the back of her chair. They had six glasses on the table in front of them and had their heads bowed close. She didn't remember being that close to him, but obviously it was at a point in the night where her memory must've gotten fuzzy.
Her brows were furrowed at something Draco was saying, before her eyes softened. In the picture, she opened her mouth to speak, gaze never leaving his face, but then the image looped back around. With a start, she noticed the way Draco shifted his arm tighter around the back of her chair, brushing his fingers along the back of her arm lightly. Hermione returned her attention to the article.
The two work together as Professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and were sharing a Muggle hotel room, where they seemed to have taken a group of students for the weekend. It's unsure why the two had taken on the responsibility of this field trip, but they were seen visiting several museums, one of which being the Museum of London, as well as various Muggle landmarks. They seemed to avoid each other when out and about with their students, but one can assume this was to hide their relationship from the students. We can only guess that their trysts remain in the hidden world of the Muggles and behind closed doors.
When approached later on, both refused to comment. Ms. Granger vehemently denied a relationship while Mr. Malfoy's possessive grip around her waist leaves us questioning. Individuals close to the two also refused to comment, but all seemed surprised at the startling revelation. How could such a secret be kept from their closest friends and loved ones?
Did the lovers' sordid affair bloom from becoming coworkers or has this been going on since both had returned to Hogwarts for their eighth year? According to Pansy Parkinson, the pair had seemed close during Mr. Malfoy's birthday that year. She told us, "They sat on the floor together, almost shoulder to shoulder, and were whispering. It was definitely something good since they both smiled."
Or could they perhaps have been harboring a secret love affair from their earlier years at Hogwarts? Ms. Parkinson tells us that the two often remained at each other's throats, but that there was obvious underlying tension and passion. "It always seemed like something would be lit on fire when they were in a room," she'd said, seeming disgusted at this information. We can only imagine what witnessing such strong love at a young age can be like.
No matter the events of the beginning of their relationship, we can see just how on fire this couple can get. We can't wait to see how their relationship progresses.
Hermione felt sick. She glanced up at Draco who was watching her with a grimace on his face. Neville beside her, for once showing up to breakfast since his grandmother's passing, looked between the two before taking Hermione's hand on top of the table where she was clenching it tightly into a fist. She glanced his way, catching sight of McGonagall who was staring her and Draco down. Bile rose in her throat and she looked back down at the paper. The image of her and Draco, flush against the wall and each other, mocked her. With a quiet mutter and a finger flicking at the paper, it curled up into itself and dissolved as if placed in water.
"We need to talk," she whispered to Draco harshly. He nodded stiffly before picking up a piece of toast and angrily biting off the corner. She followed suit with a piece of bacon, the both of them deciding to ignore the other until their long-awaited conversation.
November 2001
Hermione was teaching her second class of the day, determined to ignore the looks of wonder and confusion and disgust on her students' faces as they reacted to her going on like the biggest news of the decade since Voldemort's death didn't mean anything. The silvery mist of a cat leaped through her classroom door, spooking quite a few students from their staring.
"Professor Granger, if you would, come to my office as soon as your class is done," the voice of McGonagall spoke sternly. Hermione tensed. So, this is it. This is when she gets sacked. How could she have taken part in such debaucherous acts while supposed to be taking care of her students, without thinking that it would make it back to McGonagall?
The class went by slowly. She was tempted to send them away early but knew that would only cause more gossip amongst the students. Even so, they fidgeted in their seats, just barely refraining from whispering to each other throughout her lecture.
She usually tried to make her lessons fun, having them do little activities and creating large images of different events up on the walls. Today, however, was one of those days where she only lectured because of the amount of information she needed to impart. The students typically struggled to make it through lecture days but most of the time they managed to make it through without sleeping which she felt proud of. As much as she respected Binns, he had had a penchant for boring students until half the class was asleep.
When she had finished her last point, she cleared the board with a flick of her wrist. In the beginning, the students had been awed at her mastery of wandless magic and she explained that once Harry had broken his wand, they only had one. She was forced to learn wandless magic in order to survive. This was one of the few personal stories of the war that she shared and the students hung on every word.
As the last student walked out of the door, Hermione shook her head and wrung her hands together. She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and strode from the classroom, chin high. Her arrival at McGonagall's office had her faltering, but she composed herself to whisper the password, 'licorice wands', and stepped up onto the moving staircase.
When she entered the office, she found Draco sitting in a chair before McGonagall's desk, back straight and shoulders tense. McGonagall was seated at her desk, fingertips pressed together in a steeple against her mouth. Hermione made her way to the chair beside Draco, settling down stiffly. She glanced at his face, finding it loose and cool. His eyes stared blankly ahead, clouded and dark. Her eyebrows twitched. She figured he'd be proficient in occlumency due to his aunt but she didn't realize that that was how it presented all of the time. She figured Bellatrix's expression was simply because of her loss of sanity. Her mind flashed to Bellatrix over her, eyes probing through her mind like a vicious, feral cat after a tattered mouse. She shook her head.
"Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall started. "I'm sure you both realize why I've asked you here."
"Headmistress-" Hermioned leaned forward, but McGonagall held up a hand, stopping her from continuing.
"You're both adults. There's nothing I can do if it was consensual," she paused. "It was consensual, correct?" Her gaze landed on Hermione.
"Of course," Hermione bit out, indignant at McGonagall's underlying message. "I assure you, if it wasn't, Malfoy wouldn't be sitting here right now; he'd be dismembered." Her voice ended in a hiss. Draco remained unflinching beside her.
"Thank you for that, Ms. Granger." McGonagall folded her interlocked hands flat against the desk. "I simply have a few questions then regarding the article. For one, why on Earth did it occur to the two of you to engage in these activities while chaperoning a school trip?"
Hermione and Draco sat silently. She looked over at him to find his hands in fists in his lap.
"It's my fault, Headmistress. I hadn't been in Muggle London in a while and wanted to go out. Draco accompanied me to make sure I was safe. Things then escalated…" She trailed off, deciding it was best to end it there.
"And how did this relationship come to be? The incident last year, was that the beginning or has it been going on longer than that?"
"Well, it's not really a relationship…" Hermione's face flamed. She stole another look at Draco. Merlin, she wished he would say something! "It's all rather hard to explain."
"I see." McGonagall reached into a drawer of her desk and pulled out a tin. "Biscuit?" Hermione stared at her.
"Uhm, no thank you," she said slowly. Draco softly shook his head, the first sign that he was actually paying attention to what was happening.
"Then I wish the two of you luck in figuring things out. Have a good day," McGonagall said definitively, glancing down at the papers in the corner of her desk. Draco stood immediately and headed towards the door. Hermione stood slowly, glancing back and forth between the two. She was sure they had had a different discussion before she arrived.
"Oh, Ms. Granger," McGonagall called as she made her way to the door. Draco had disappeared. Hermione turned and nodded at McGonagall, crossing her arms. "As I've said to you before, just because the war is over, that does not mean you don't have enemies. I'm sure you've thought this through at least a little. Do be careful. Things will only get harder." Hermione bristled.
"Headmistress, I'm fully aware of what a relationship with him will entail. I don't particularly care for others to be in my personal business so I won't be paying much mind to how they react to this. And as for Malfoy, he has been nothing but respectful," she faltered, thinking about his statement about every man in the pub wanting to fuck her.
"He's careful," she amended. "He hasn't done anything I didn't reciprocate or initiate. I'd appreciate it if you could remember that the next time you decide to fault him for something he hasn't done." McGonagall eyed her carefully.
"Understood," McGonagall said at last. Hermione nodded stiffly and turned on her heel, marching out of the office. When she made it to the bottom, she sagged against the wall beside the gargoyle. Her heart felt like it was pushing against her rib cage, expanding endlessly. She'd never spoken to McGonagall in such a tone and she couldn't believe that she'd had the balls to actually do it.
She pushed off from the wall, resolving to find Draco and finally have that chat. She had a free period before her third years and she intended to use it to her advantage. After thinking for a moment, she figured he must have gone to his office. With her chin held high, she set off.
When she reached his classroom, she hesitated. How awkward was this about to be? Had she been deluding herself about his intentions? Her blood ran cold. What if he was planning on using her, sexually and/or socially? She shook her head. She couldn't think like that, otherwise she wouldn't make it through the conversation they desperately needed to have.
Her hand rubbed back and forth over the front of her thigh and she bounced a few times on the balls of her feet. She set her jaw and headed through his classroom up to his office door. It took a second for her to breathe before she knocked.
"Come in," his voice carried through the door. She took in another heavy breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. He glanced up and, upon seeing her, flushed. "Granger."
"Malfoy," she responded, biting her lip hard. She closed the door behind her and took the seat in front of his desk. They stared warily at each other for a few moments.
"About the article-"
"I'm sorry about McGonagall-"
They both spoke at the same time before dissolving into silence once more. Draco gestured at Hermione for her to speak first.
"I'm sorry about McGonagall," she started again. "Whatever she said to you, I don't think you should dwell on it."
"She told me to be careful," he said. "That there were people out in the world who would give anything to get their hands on me - and not in a sexual way. That doing this with you would put a target on both of us."
"She's right," Hermione said softly, thinking over the consequences the article would bring. "So many people have a lot of thoughts about our personal lives, which they shouldn't but that's what we've unfortunately gotten ourselves into." There was silence for a moment, the two staring at each other. Draco's eyebrows crinkled.
"I don't care." She clenched her fists tightly at her sides, nails biting into the soft skin of her palms. "I don't care what they think because it's my life, my choices, my downfalls." He winced. "Not that, it's not, wait-" she stumbled over her words. "It's not a downfall to be with you. But they'll see it as such and I can't change that. All I can do is ignore it."
"Ignore it? Is that what you've been doing with our past as well? I know I initiated everything but did you stop to think about what happened? I pushed it back in my mind, hoping it wouldn't matter, but we need to talk this through, if you want to continue." He swept a hand through his hair.
"I already told you, I want to know what'll come from this. I want to have this with you," she pressed. "I haven't spent too much time thinking it over because you make me feel free. I don't have to think about the past because you make me forget it."
"We need to talk about it," he stated harshly. Her head jerked back at his tone. "There's too much between us to just forget it all."
"Fine. What do you suggest we start with?" She crossed her arms.
"How about Hogwarts? I spent six years tormenting you."
"Not always."
"No, not always…" he trailed off.
"Why me?" She asked. Her heart was picking up in pace waiting for his response. He took a few silent moments, staring down at his desk.
"You were interesting." He looked up. "You were a puzzle, something to solve and I never could."
"You've said something like that before," she muttered. "Why was I interesting?"
"You're everything I was raised to hate, but better. A muggleborn that excelled at every subject, friends with the Harry Potter, and increasingly talented at spellwork. I envied you at times, and longed to know more about you even more. I had to know; it was infuriating."
"When did you realize you didn't hate me?" Her voice was quiet. She stared at him, trying to pick apart each twitch of his face. His eyebrows remained crinkled and she realized it was his thinking expression. She recalled that expression from a lot of their interactions and things started to click into place. "It was early on, wasn't it?"
"Third year." His response was quick. Her eyes widened. "When that thing attacked me and you rushed to make sure I got to the hospital wing. It was after that that you noticed Pansy and Daphne all over me and claimed the cut wasn't as bad as I said. I should've hated you even more then, but I couldn't. You looked so tired and withdrawn that I figured you were just lashing out. I started to worry about you." He huffed out a laugh. "I hated that I worried but I just couldn't seem to hate you."
"What about when I punched you? Did that not make you hate me again?"
"No, it did the opposite. I respected you, and I hated that I did. The more years went by the more I hated myself and started finding myself seeking you out, wanting to learn more about who you were, what made you tick. It was stressful."
"Stressful?"
"I had a lot going on, not that anyone noticed," he replied bitterly, hitching his left arm closer to his body subconsciously. "But all I could do was wonder about you. I tried as hard as I could to shove it down, deep in my mind where even Aunt Bella couldn't find it." She stopped breathing at the mention of his aunt. Her left forearm itched and her limbs felt numb. She tried shaking her head, to get rid of the impending panic. He stood, coming over to her.
"What did I say?" He questioned cautiously. His arms raised as if to pull her into an embrace but he stopped short. "I said something wrong, didn't I?"
She raised her left arm towards him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and his own fingers wrapped around her wrist instinctively. He glanced down at their hands and her exposed forearm, the scarring there visible, and an emotion she couldn't place flickered across his face.
"I didn't think about it. I'm sorry," he murmured, looking back up at her. "She's not here, she can't hurt you any more. She's dead."
"I'm sorry," she breathed out. His eyebrows crinkled again.
"What are you apologizing for?"
"For reacting like this."
"Granger, it's understandable. You should see me when I have to go to the Astronomy Tower," he tried joking. His eyes were clouded over, he was occluding again.
"I should've done something more," he said softly. "I should've stopped her."
"You know nothing would have stopped her," she forced herself to say. Her heart hadn't stopped racing. She tried a breathing exercise Ginny recommended once. Inhale, exhale, inhale, hold, exhale, repeat. Every inhale and exhale grew slower and longer the more she did it. "You know she would've just let Greyback have me at the end."
"You don't understand how much that would've broken me," he bit out. "He didn't hold back, the pervert."
"Good thing Dobby showed up, huh?" It was her turn to try a joke.
"Yeah, good thing," he breathed out.
"Thank you for what you did." She had never said it aloud. She'd hardly talked about it with Harry and Ron, knowing they'd just feel guilt for being unable to do anything.
"It wasn't enough."
"It was something. It kept me from falling apart entirely," she responded softly. He was silent.
"I have nightmares about it," he said quietly, almost as if he was wishing she wouldn't hear it.
"Me too," she replied just as quietly. They were silent for a moment. Draco exhaled heavily before tugging at the arm he held, pulling her up and into him. His hands wrapped around her shoulders, fingers splayed down her shoulder blades and the dip of her spine. Her arms slowly lifted to encircle his waist, her hands pressing softly against the tight muscles of his lower back.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I won't let that or anything like it happen to you again." Her heart resumed its harsh pounding.
"Malfoy, I-" her words caught in her throat. What were they doing? What was this? Her bones felt heavy and she just wanted to sink against him, let him hold her weight.
"It's okay, Granger. I understand." And she felt it in her heart that he really truly did.
"What did you want to say to me?" She pulled back just enough to look at his face. He had stopped occluding. "About the article?"
"I wanted to apologize. I know that's not how you wanted to tell your friends about…this," he said quietly. She flushed.
"Oh, Merlin. I totally forgot that they would see it," she whispered. She pulled back more, her hands resting on his hips while his rested on her shoulders. "Are we okay?"
"I think so," he answered.
"Then I think I need to go make sure Harry and Ron haven't lost their heads," she said hesitantly. "Can I explain to them? Would that be alright?"
"Granger, you don't need to ask me that," he muttered. "They're your friends and it's your life. If you feel the need to explain, I have no right to stop you."
"Thank you, Malfoy. For understanding."
"I'll always try to. For you." He was occluding again, face flushed regardless. She leaned up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek.
"I have to go. Maybe you should owl your mother as well," she said, watching to see if his walls would come down. His face simply turned pinker.
"Probably. I'm not looking forward to that."
"Well, it'd have to happen eventually. It's not like we could hide this the more it goes on." She froze as the implication of her words hit her. Draco's walls finally broke and his eyebrows crinkled together tightly. "I should really go, so I'll- I'll see you sometime later? Okay, well, I'll be going-" She slipped from his arms and darted out the door. Her face was warm and her arms cool, heart pounding so hard she could hear it vibrate her skull. She buried her face in her hands; how many times would she be mortified today?