Summary:
Draco Malfoy gave himself to a night of passion with one Hermione Granger in the face of what he knew would be a loveless marriage with Astoria Greengrass. What he didn't realize at the time was that five years later, he would have found love in the arms of Theodore Nott. When Hermione Granger comes crashing back into his life with a little tow-headed girl struggling with Veela's heritage mixing with her magical core, Draco faces the fact that his wife had known all along about his daughter.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Lyra Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass, Narcissa Black Malfoy
Additional Tags: Gay Theodore Nott, Veela (Harry Potter), Bi-Sexual Draco Malfoy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Secret Children, V Relationship, Polyamory, Harry Potter is Dead, Ron Weasley Bashing, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Married Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Infidelity, Character Death, Character Death is Harry Potter, veela child, Fluff and Smut, M/M Smut, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Hermione Granger & Theodore Nott Friendship, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Theodore Nott, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Collections: Dreomione Fest 2024
Prompt: V triad (plural V triads) A triad in which one person is in a polyamorous relationship with two other people who are not in a romantic relationship with each other. These two people are metamours.
Whispers of a Veela
By: SarahFraser
I can feel the ever-underlying brink of panic creeping into my lungs. It makes it nearly impossible to move, yet he needs me. So, I push that aside and smile. Tell him everything will be alright despite it being a great lie.
Hermione's tongue darted to wet her lips as she sat beside Harry, gripping his hand tightly and praying to whatever Gods were listening to save him. He didn't deserve what was happening to him, the pain he was in, and the horrific things that were happening to his mind.
No, Harry James Potter was the best of them. He was hands down the best person Hermione had ever known, yet he was dying. Slowly and in agony every step of the way.
He was supposed to be the Master of Death, the owner of all the Hallows, but that was also a lie. He rolled to the side, groaning in pain and clutching his abdomen, pressing the red button to administer more pain medicine through the IV that had been placed a week ago.
"Harry, shall I call the nurse?" Hermione asked, reaching for a damp towel to dab his forehead with.
"No, I'll be alright," he said through gritted teeth and his head thrown back. "Just another moment."
Hermione rang her hands, glancing around the hospital room they'd been camped in since the twenty-third. Had it been just over a week since she'd gone to visit Harry at home to find him collapsed and unconscious?
Her cell phone vibrated again as Harry's chest finally leveled out, and sleep took him once more, at least until his medicine wore off.
"Hello?" she whispered into the receiver, not wanting to disturb Harry's sleep.
"Hermione? Where the bloody hell are you?" Ron asked; Hermione supposed that, more than likely, he was already a bottle deep into the firewhisky he'd just bought.
"I'm at the hospital. Where else do you think I'd possibly be?" Hermione snapped. Pressing her lips together, she turned back to Harry, who'd only groaned and moved his head slightly. "Are you needing something?" she asked with a more even tone.
"We have that party we need to attend for the Ministry. Don't tell me you forgot!? Kingsley needs the saviors of the Wizarding World in attendance!"
"The savior of the Wizarding World is currently lying in a hospital bed and unable to attend any such event," Hermione coolly replied. "It seems the Minister will have to be disappointed this year."
"Hermione, don't be such a cow." Ron's slurred speech started to grate on her, but Hermione knew where this would end. "Harry's in the hospital surrounded by nurses; you can pop out for a bit and then get back to him. You haven't spent time with me, and it's New Year's Eve. It's supposed to be a special night."
"I was home this morning," Hermione pointed out, but she could hear Ron's irritation through the phone. "What could you want me to go with you tonight for?"
"I'm up for the promotion to be Head Auror. Robards values someone who can show stability, and being in a committed relationship does that. If you don't show up, I might lose out to McLaggen. McLaggen, Mione! You can't possibly want that overrated toadstool to be Head Auror, would you?"
Hermione gritted her teeth so hard that she swore they might break. The only reason the Head Auror position was now open was because Harry had fallen ill and had been forced to resign. He'd been faking it until the past month when he couldn't do it any longer. Robards had been speechless when Harry had put in his resignation effective immediately, leaving the head of the DMLE scrambling.
Now, the only thing Ron could see was the opportunities that Harry's absence presented him.
"Fine, but just until midnight. That's only two hours, and then I'm coming back here, no arguments."
"Whatever, you've always put Harry ahead of me anyway," Ron finished, hanging up on her, causing Hermione's temper to flare up.
Hermione did everything she was supposed to do as Harry's power of attorney. She stopped by the nurse's station and told them that she had to leave for a moment and that they should call her if anything changed in his condition. She quickly signed a form permitting them to leave a voice message, knowing that wherever this party was being held would likely interfere with her reception.
A quick stop at home, where she changed into a simple black dress with a slit going up her left leg, a light dusting of makeup, and a plait for her hair, and Hermione was more than satisfied with her simple look. Ron would have to be disappointed in her lack of effort, but she didn't care. His clock was already ticking, and he should be happy that she'd even agreed to leave Harry's bedside, even if it was just for a short period.
With a tap of her wand, Ron's invitation turned into a portkey and transported her to whatever venue this blasted ball was being held at. Hermione could only hope that it wouldn't take too long.
ooo
"Do you see Theodore Nott over there?" Astoria asked, smiling and waving as she hung off Draco's arm. "I heard that his wife caught him in bed with Blaise Zabini . Apparently, and this is from a most reliable source, he's completely and utterly gay. The only reason he even married Pansy Parkinson is that he had to wed a pureblood witch to inherit anything."
Draco glanced in Theo's direction, already knowing all this was true. Astoria wasn't wrong, but she didn't account for the fact that Pansy was also married to Theo for her freedom.
Pansy had fallen deeply and desperately in love with some muggle man. However, she was currently in a blood contract that had been placed on her at birth that if she were not to marry an approved wizard, Pansy would perish. Luckily, there was a clause in all those blasted contracts that if an heir were not conceived within the first five years of the marriage, it would dissolve.
It was all very archaic and horrifying the lengths pureblood parents would go to force their children's compliance. However, Theo and Pansy were coming up on their fifth anniversary next month, and the pair were nearly giddy with their excitement at the end being so near.
Not that Draco would ever tell Astoria that because then she would probably invest in fertility potions to ensure her position in his life.
"You're a horrible gossip, Astoria," Draco commented to his betrothed as they circled the dance floor. "I see the Carrow twins. Why don't you see what other outlandish things they might have to say and leave me in peace while I speak with the Minister."
He could hear Astoria sputter in her astonishment at Draco's harsh words, but he couldn't care less. He'd only come to this ridiculous party because his mother had insisted, and Draco had difficulty telling her no. Draco's invitations to these charity galas steadily grew as a professional Quidditch player, primarily since Draco had invested his family's money into any charity he saw fit.
Not sparing her another glance, Draco didn't care as Astoria stormed off to most certainly complain about him to her friends. They were the worst gossip in Wizarding England, but nothing could be done about it. Catty and hateful women, the lot of them, thrived in other's misery.
"Damnit, Hermione. You're embarrassing me and in front of Robards!"
That caught Draco's attention. He was already situated at the edge of the dance floor, but hidden away in the shadows was one of the main attractions for these dull events.
"Fuck off, Ronald!" Granger's speech was slurred, and Draco was surprised to hear her in such a state. Never had he known the Golden Girl ever to overindulge.
And Draco perhaps knew more about Hermione Jean Granger than he would ever admit aloud.
To call it an infatuation would have misrepresented how deep his feelings for her ran. He'd teased her relentlessly since he'd first met her because Draco hadn't had a clue how to deal with the swotty muggleborn witch that beat him, and everyone else for that matter, at everything.
She was brilliant and a shining light in his dark and dismal life. It had taken up to the point he watched her entering the Yule Ball their fourth year before Draco understood the feelings he'd been harboring for her all that time, which were longing and not loathing.
He knew everything about her—her favorite color, how she took her coffee, the pudding she preferred, the way she would repair any damaged pages she came across—everything.
It was almost sick, his obsession with her. Even as an adult, Draco had kept tabs on her. Potter's little emotional support pet and Weasley's arm candy, which he didn't appreciate. She'd gone on to be a social worker or some such muggle profession that she was trying to incorporate into the Wizarding World, working with other healers on the mental health crisis left behind after the war had ended.
She was a literal Goddess, and Draco only hoped to bathe in her warmth from a distance. His latest charitable donation had been to go towards her wing, expanding the funding to hire more healers.
"Hermione!"
"Get your hands off me! You have no right!" Draco could hear Granger's hiss, followed by a crunch. Before he could intervene, however, Granger was stumbling away from Weasley, who was cradling his face with blood running down his chin.
Not aware of her surroundings, Draco wasn't remotely shocked when Granger fell into his arms. Her hands gripped his biceps, and unconsciously, Draco flexed under her touch.
"Alright there, Granger?" he asked, gazing down at the whiskey-colored eyes that had haunted him since he was eleven.
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" she asked, the smell of alcohol wafting off her, but Draco could still smell the cinnamon and honey that had always clung to her. "Doesn't matter anyway. Merlin, has he always been so fit?"
Draco couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him at her bold statement that she hadn't meant to be spoken aloud. The level of intoxication of the witch in his arms kept Draco from responding with a crude statement, but still, his body reacted accordingly. He was only a man, after all.
"I'm the seeker for Falmouth Falcons. Requires a certain fitness regimen," Draco replied to the last question, letting his arms flex again, causing her eyes to widen. "As to why I'm here, I've donated a lot of galleons to different charities. I think the Minister felt an obligation to invite me."
"Hm," Granger replied as she gently squeezed his arms.
"So, things with you and Weasley," Draco commented, wondering how long until the little witch released him.
"Are over as of about an hour ago," she replied. "Probably much before if I'm being frank with myself…" she trailed off, still not letting go.
Her closeness and the warmth from her body were nearly too much for Draco. The longer she stayed in his arms, the more he observed her. The more his eyes were studying, the perfect ringlets framing her face while the rest was in a loose braid hanging over her bare shoulder.
He didn't miss when her breathing started to get heavier as her hands explored his arms further. She studied him in a way that no one had ever done before. His forearms, his hands, then back up to his shoulders. When she reached under his blazer, he didn't dare move a muscle as her gentle touch found the buttons of his shirt.
"Granger, you're intoxicated," Draco ground out, his teeth clenched as she continued. "We can't…"
"Do you have a sobriety potion at your place?"
Draco's brows shot up into his hairline as he looked down at the little witch in his arms. Her eyes were rimmed red from the alcohol or the tears she'd shed over her breakup with Weasley. He shouldn't have, and Draco knew that it wasn't in proper form to do so, but what did he care about form when he was holding the girl he'd fancied since she'd stormed his train compartment when he was eleven, asking after a toad.
"I do."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
ooo
She'd taken the sobriety potion that he'd given her and was still standing in his flat. Hermione Granger stood in his flat, looking around at his decor and bookshelf.
Suddenly, Draco felt much more self-conscious about the ones he'd stored here. He knew they were mostly muggle novels, needing somewhere to dive into the world his parents had desperately tried to keep him from.
However, after reading The Wizard Of Oz , Draco could understand why. Two witches are maimed and killed, and then a man pretends to be a wizard. It is a sinister story, yet it has been labeled a children's classic for whatever morbid reason.
"So," Granger said, returning her attention to him after sliding Pride and Prejudice back into its place on the shelf.
"So…" Draco trailed off, tucking his hands in his pockets watching her.
"So," Granger scratched his orange tabby cat's head.
"So," Draco knew, his face was flushed as he watched her observe his living space. How much more obvious could his obsession with her be?
"Are we going to say anything else, or shall we stand here the rest of the day saying 'so' to one another?" Granger asked simply while crossing her arms over her chest.
Draco looked up from the floor, his fringe falling into his face as he watched her. Her eyes were wide and still red, but Draco didn't understand what was happening. She'd taken the sobriety potion, so he knew that she wasn't drunk. However, she seemed melancholy, standing in the middle of his sitting room, looking like a dream.
"Are you wanting to have sex with me or not?" Granger snipped, her lips pressed into a tight line, apparently taking offense at his inaction.
Draco was not expecting her to be so blunt and found himself choking on the air. What the bloody hell was he supposed to say to that!? That, of course, he was wanting to have sex with her. It was one of the singular things that he'd thought about over the last few years, his hand intimately acquainted with his fantasies of her.
Granger scoffed at his hesitancy, "If it's because I'm a mud–"
"Don't call yourself that," Draco growled, crowding her as he moved into her space. Surprised by how quickly he'd reacted, Granger's eyes widened as she stepped back. "Your blood is an essential part of who you are. It's your heritage and your culture." He was stalking ever so closer, and Granger had reached his settee. The back of her knees hit and buckled, causing her to fall over.
"Malfoy…"
Draco felt possessed, towering over this little witch who'd haunted his every waking moment for one reason or another. Never had anyone else ever caught his attention like she had; frankly, he had to have her.
He'd never done this before, and the thought that she was unknowingly going to be his first thrilled him a bit. Of course, he'd done other things with witches and a few things with wizards, as practice only, of course, but never had he sunk himself inside another and claimed them as his.
"Granger," he replied, his voice gruff as he leaned so close to her that she was only a breath away.
Then the cheeky witch leaned forward and claimed his lips in a kiss he wasn't entirely prepared for. For how self-assured he was when her mouth caught him, he was still surprised and had not expected her to make such a bold move.
The longer her mouth stayed on him, though, the more Draco could feel himself melting into her touch and the feel of her. She was electrifying, and Merlin, the sounds from her were enough to make him a puddle right there. She was everything he'd always known he wanted but never allowed to have. For tonight, though, everything was different.
He wasn't about to question whatever had led to Hermione Granger stumbling into his arms and inviting herself to his home. He quickly found the zipper to the elegant black dress she'd worn for the occasion. She had been breathtaking and made it seem effortless.
"Draco," she moaned into his mouth when his fingers brushed her side.
He lost it after that. She'd never said his given name where he could hear it, and the sound was even sweeter than he'd ever imagined. Pulling back just enough to look down into her face, Draco dove back in when her lust-filled gaze caught his.
She tasted divine. Her skin was silk on his lips as he tracked every inch of her that he uncovered. The more he allowed himself to discover, the more he questioned what Weasley had been thinking about giving her up.
The way she squirmed under his touch and the way she was achingly wet for him already as he reached the apex of her thigh. Fucking hell.
"Draco, I swear on all things," Granger groaned, her hips bucking, trying to find the friction he was denying her.
"Eager, are we?" Draco taunted despite feeling equal, if not more so, desperate to feel her around him.
A whimper escaped her lips, and Draco was lost, ripping the remainder of the dress from her body and shucking his clothes, carelessly tossing them to the side. Sprawled out on his settee, Draco took a moment to admire the woman Granger had grown into. She was filled with curves in all the right places. Her hips were wide and then curving down to her legs. She was perfection that Draco knew would never be matched in his life with Astoria. The complete opposite of his betrothed. At least he would have this memory to get him through his bleak existence.
His mouth found her breast, closing around the peaked nipple that he couldn't resist. She groaned again, lifting her hips as Draco easily slid inside her inviting opening. His moan around her couldn't be helped. The way she gripped him so perfectly felt like bliss.
If he died in this position, he would indeed be delighted.
"Draco, move," Granger commanded, and who was he to tell her no?
Lifting on his forearms, Draco began to pump inside her, filling her completely and then sliding out again. Her head dropped back, exposing her neck to him, and his lips trailed down the column, needing her more than he'd ever have thought possible.
Each thrust had him chasing his release, but he wanted Granger to find as much pleasure in this as he was. Each movement was driving him utterly mad and to his snapping point.
Her nails bit into his back as she clung to him, no rhythm to be found between them as they each tried to take control of the situation. She was wanton, and he was putty in her hands. Not that she was aware of the effect she had on him, nor would she ever be, he swore to himself as he tried to pause, feeling his climax speeding toward him.
"Harder!" Granger commanded, and he was lost. With an abandonment that he would never find again, Draco pounded his pelvis against Granger's, brushing the bud of nerves that he knew would send her over the edge.
When her walls clamped around him, Draco couldn't stop himself from spilling inside her. He was aware that doing such things was probably poor form, but he was seeing stars, and for the first time, he couldn't think of a better way to finish.
They lay there in a sweaty heap of tangled limbs, and her wild curls practically suffocated them, but Draco wouldn't have traded a moment of it for anything. This woman, who he wouldn't have ever thought would look twice in his direction, was now filled with his seed and pressed against his body.
He was well aware that she'd used him as much as he had her, but for a moment, Draco pretended that maybe that wasn't the case and that she'd chosen him because of who he was and not because he happened to be the first person she found after breaking off her long term relationship.
With his eyes closed and his hands trailing down her body, Draco hummed in his ease. He wasn't even aware when sleep took him, and he was even less aware when Granger slipped from his arms and out of his life, for now.
ooo
Three Months Later…
The chattering of witches discussing what material the curtains needed to be to update the drawing room to a more vibrant and inviting atmosphere held zero of Draco's interest. What did he care if they used some exotic fabric or just cleaned and transfigured the ones currently hanging over the windows?
"Eggshell would compliment the new portraits better than the buttercream would." Susan Bones explained, waving her wand and summoning two identical fabric swatches for Astoria to study.
For all Draco cared, the drawing room could be sealed off and made unplottable for no soul ever to have the misfortune of being forced to exist in the same room so many had been tortured in.
"You might be right, but it might be best to order both so that we can make a better comparison once we can compare it to the wedding portrait," Astoria explained. Susan went to give another opinion when the rapping of an owl at the window interrupted her.
Draco sat near the fireplace, reviewing his coach's game notes for their upcoming home game against the Tornadoes. It would be difficult, and Draco knew he would need all the edge he could get with them. Their beaters were especially vicious and had taken out more seekers this season than not. It was proving rather difficult for the rest of the league.
The rapping from the owl sounded again, but Draco still ignored it. His vapid betrothed was more than capable of getting the letter from the bloody bird. As the wedding drew nearer, the Gods only knew that it was more than likely for her. Wishing her health and prosperity in her new life as Lady Malfoy.
Bloody irritating, in Draco's opinion.
"Fine, I'll get the owl. Not as if I'm not busy," Astoria snapped when it became clear that Draco had no intention of moving from his seat.
The clicking of her heels across the wooden floor was hardly audible as she walked with a practiced grace that would be most admirable if Draco cared for such things.
He could hear Astoria muttering under her breath and shooing away the owl before hearing the click of the glass shutting again.
The horrible gasp from Astoria and the outrage was very out of character for the witch, and the crumpled letter in her hand thrown into the grate merely had Draco lifting a brow in her direction. The scowl on her face held Draco's interest momentarily before he returned to the booklet in his lap.
Knowing Astoria, someone had probably written to tell her that her shoulders looked too masculine in the engagement photos published by Witch Weekly that day. The woman was as vain as she was irritating.
"Anything interesting, dear?" Draco asked purely to be polite as the parchment curled and turned to ash in the fireplace.
"Nothing to concern yourself with," Astoria hissed, sweeping her robes and returning to where the interior designer stood, politely admiring a vase to give the couple privacy. "Just another jealous witch wishing you'd forever stay an eligible bachelor."
"How could I retain that status when I have such an alluring witch wishing for my hand," Draco dryly replied, not even looking in Astoria's direction. Had he, he would have seen the narrowed eyes of his future wife, and had he paid even the slightest bit of attention to the letter, his life would have taken a much different path.
Malfoy,
I hope this letter finds you well. After New Year's Eve, I decided it would be best to move to Australia, where my parents live. Over the past six years, I've been working with a mind healer to restore their memories, and the process is nearly complete. After losing Harry and realizing that Ron and I weren't meant to be, I decided to be near my parents, and my soul was craving to relocate for a fresh start.
However, that's not what I'm writing you about. That is to say, I've recently discovered that I'm expecting a baby, and it's yours. I want to offer you the opportunity to know and be as involved with this child as you would like. There is no pressure, but I was told years ago that I'd never be able to have children, and therefore, I'm unwilling to give up what might potentially be my only chance at becoming a mother.
My due date is mid-September, but you are welcome to come at any point to meet with me and my healers. I regret that I do not intend to return to England now, as I must stay with my parents. However, I'm willing to work with you to ensure you can have a relationship with our child. If that's not something you want, that's okay as well. I have no intention of forcing your hand, but I felt you had a right to know.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Yours,
Hermione