'How on Earth does he do this to me?' Hermione thought. She had never felt this amazing with anyone else before, and she had a feeling that it was only the beginning. Draco's kisses stopped and he greeted her. She realized that they never had the chance to actually say hello before, thanks to Ron's presence. "Good evening Draco." Her voice lingered on his name. She couldn't help it; she was under his spell, metaphorically speaking of course. There was no way Draco could have cast any sort of spell or charm or slipped her a love potion with her noticing. Plus, she doubted he would do such a thing anyway.
She sat in the seat Draco pulled out for her, which was across from where he would take a seat at the dining table. "Well, dinner is ready! Let's tuck in!" she stated with enthusiasm. The first bite of the Beef Wellington was delicious and juicy; perfectly cooked by Hermione's standards. She had been a bit worried that cooking while distracted by her guest would have ruined something, after she accidently nicked her finger. "What do you think?" She asked. She hoped everything was to his liking. Cooking was something she enjoyed, especially for others. If he suggested she get a house elf, she would possibly be crushed.
. . . . . . .
Upon Hermione's invitation Draco began to eat the dinner they (mostly she) had prepared. Starting with refreshing his palate he began with the lemon zested baked asparagus. That was flavorful, considering the simple cooking process and few ingredients. Then he took a bite of the Beef Wellington. He stayed silent, savoring the flavor. She must have thought his silence to be a potentially negative effect to then ask him what he thought about it. "I think you have skill beyond that of your magic and intellect. That has got to be the best Beef Wellington I have tasted. And I am not simply saying that to appease my date. It's the truth." He complimented, taking another bite.
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Draco's silence filled Hermione with a sense of anticipation. She watched him chew for a moment and he stopped. Her stomach twisted up, she dreaded if she screwed up something. Then his affirmation of her and compliment to the food nearly made Hermione jump for joy. But she remained in her chair, happy the food was to her date's liking. "I'm so glad you like it." She said with a big smile on her face. "Cooking is really no big ordeal with magic. I guess a little knowledge of manual cooking helps a bit too, but don't forget that you helped."
Meanwhile, the utensils and such in the kitchen were putting the scones in the oven, preparing for dessert and cleaning up after themselves; as Hermione and Draco continued eating their supper.
. . . . . . .
"I have never assisted in preparing a meal before. I must say it was far more interesting than I expected." Draco remarked, the memory of their kiss in the forefront of his mind. The smell of the scones cooking filled the air as they finished their meal. He stood and remembered to gather his plate and take it to the kitchen.
Hermione, refusing to use a house elf, did a lot of manual labor either by magic or on her own. He saw a black muggle device that read dish washer. "Hmm…" He said curiously and opened it to reveal the inside of the odd appliance. "Merlin's Beard! Why does this muggle contraption say dish washer? How is something like this supposed to clean?" He asked perplexed by it.
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A blush came over Hermione's face. She knew exactly what he meant by 'interesting'. "Well, if you ever want to lend a hand in the kitchen, let me know." She winked at Draco as he stood up. She became lost in thought for a moment before Draco inquired about the muggle device. "Oh, that? It's how muggles wash a large number of dishes without using their hands. I've used it once. Cleaning with magic is much easier and faster. You put detergent in the tray that will release once the door is closed and water shoots up from below the dishes out of the metal blade that spins."
Hermione joined Draco in the kitchen and set the dirty dishes in the sink to get washed magically. As the sponges and towels went to work, Hermione brought out some jams she bought for the occasion and put them on a tray with the scones.
. . . . . . .
'She thought of everything for this evening.' Draco noted to himself silently as Hermione readied a tray with fresh scones and jams on a tray. They returned to the table to feast on the dessert while the scones were still hot. Carefully handling the hot pastry, he used a knife to hallow out the middle. Then he used a spoon to scoop out a dab of apricot jam to place it inside the scone 'pocket'; before taking a bite.
It was perfection, just the right amount of crisp outside and fluffy inside. The cool came making the hot temperature compatible for eating. "Brilliant! Well done! Not that I should expect anything less from Hermione Granger. You certainly have many skills beyond books and cleverness."
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Draco's compliments gave Hermione a warm, comforting feeling. It made her giggle, but it was still a bit odd hearing such praise from Draco Malfoy. "Flattery will get you nowhere, but it is still welcomed. Thank you." She had not been as successful with previous batches of scones before. She was very happy this batch was excellent. It really reminded her of her mother's baking on rainy days after getting home from the dentist office.
Hermione was about to regale Draco with such a tale when Crookshanks waddled down the hall with something from Hermione's room in his mouth. It was a leather riding crop, a gag-gift from Ginny on her nineteenth birthday. Ginny had stumbled upon Hermione's collection of muggle romance novels and thought she might be funny and get her friend something related to a book Hermione was especially embarrassed about. They both got a good chuckle over the gift.
This was not the time, however for such nostalgia. "Crookshanks! How did you get your paws on that?!" She reached down to the floor, grabbed the crop and hoped it had been retrieved and hidden from sight before Draco saw.
Unfortunately, she felt it was too little too late.
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Draco's eyebrow arched curiously at the sudden awareness to what the cat had dragged into the dining room. Hermione's cheeks flared Gryffindor scarlet as she rushed to snatch the device from the feline and hide it behind her back. "Bloody hell. I would have never guessed Weasley to have the bullocks to explore adventurous foreplay of such a manner. Figured you two to be more prude and proper type in intimate situations." He noted, unable to ignore making a jab at the ginger git. Momentarily recalling to the forefront of his mind her mentioning not tolerating abusive behavior unless under consent and agreements in a bedroom.
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Hermione shot a dreadful look at her cat that looked back just long enough to whip his tail a bit and trot off, and air of victory in his steps. Then her attention returned to Draco. His comment was a bit shocking and forward at the very least. "It was a joke gift. Honestly, it had nothing to do with my…past relationship." She clenched the handle of the crop tightly, the leather squeaked softly in her grasp. She loved that sound. It was something described so often in particular genres of her books, her guilty pleasure. She couldn't help but associate anything with leather with the subject matter. "Anyway, it's rude to assume things about someone, especially of that nature. I'm not sure about Ginny, if anything it's on me that she even knew this kind of thing existed—oh that came out wrong." With her being flustered, Hermione's mouth began working faster than her brain.
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Draco eyed Hermione carefully, taking in every detail as she spoke. Her mouth said words, but her tone revealed hesitation in affirming her statement. "Based on that ending remark, I'd say it came out right, not wrong. Rude and assuming would be adequate terms for much of the statements that come out of my mouth, let alone the ones that linger in my mind." He reminded her. Sure he had been enlightened in early adulthood, but he was still Draco Malfoy.
He revealed a devilish expression and took the last of his scone and jam into his mouth. He savored the last bite with much deliberate slowness and perhaps overly zealous hums of satisfaction.
Having completed dessert he levitated the dish to join the others being washed by magic. "Shall I give you a moment to put that away? Or would you like to keep a hold of it while we continue our evening?"
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This had to have been the most embarrassing, humiliating, experience in Hermione's life. They had just starting seeing each other romantically, and something like one's bedroom preferences weren't something one brought up in dinner conversation; at least not early in a relationship.
She didn't respond to Draco's explanation of his commentary. Of course she'd been shocked by his audacity, but she preferred someone who spoke their mind, unlike a certain someone.
When asked what she wanted to do with the crop, Hermione scowled at Draco, a hint of mischief in her eye as she pointed it at him threateningly. "Don't tempt me. I'll put it away if you promise to be good. And for your information my bedroom preferences are not of your concern…" She paused for a short moment then added, "…yet." In a whisper of finality. With that, she took the crop to her room, put it in her closet and cast a quick charm to prevent Crookshanks from snatching it again.
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The idea of Hermione being in control of the riding crop should he lead her into temptation made Draco flare up in most unruly ways that certainly were not appropriate for this type of date setting. Luckily she turned her back and retreated for a half a minute. Giving him a chance to cool down those naughty thoughts uprising. Thinking of Professor Snake in Neville Longbottoms grandmothers clothes was a quick and easy thought solution.
When she returned, he had retired to the sitting room where he had contemplated starting up a fire in the fireplace. The night was still young, despite a peek out the nearby window would reveal that dusk was coming and the nights sky almost fully taken over. "Did you want to relax after eating such a fine meal or are you one to talk a stroll?" His parents would often retire to the study to read after eating. As a lad this was when he had learned to read about topics beyond his usual educational expectations.
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She thought on Draco's proposal for a moment. "Normally I might have been one to talk a walk, but I've had such a busy week, I doubt I'd make it very far. I wouldn't mind conversing more in comfort with a fire going in the fireplace." Her week wasn't so busy that a walk would be a bad idea, which was a bit of a fib. She'd been looking forward to sitting down with Draco and simply talk directly. Get to know him in person and such.
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Draco gave and affirmative nod and waved his wand. A couple of logs from a holding place beside the hearth levitated into the fireplace and a burst of flame exited from the tip of his wand and landed upon them. Magic allowed the flame to grow without need to use kindling before it comfortably began to burn the logs. "What do you fancy chatting about this evening? Do tell me what the mind of yours desires to converse about."
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Hermione sat down and thanked Draco for starting the fire. After adjusted one of the sofa throw pillows she sat back ready to relax. "Well, ourselves of course." She responded to his inquiry. "You know, getting to know each other more intimately." She cursed herself for her poor choice in phrasing. Her mind still a bit foggy it seemed. "I'd like to take this opportunity to…I guess to allow us to speak our minds and get things out in the open."
This was somewhat new territory for Hermione. After her break up with Ron, she wanted a relationship with open communication. Asking someone to bear themselves completely was quite the request. She hoped offering him to take the first step would make it easier.
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Draco thought on her suggestion. A time to just talk about anything. To get things out in the open, as she said. He had already spoke with her on the matter of having a child/children, but not really holding expectations beyond that desire. He already mentioned the possible family curse on his Malfoy bloodline.
He did harbor one secret. One that he was capable of sharing, now that the person who bound him into magical secrecy was dead. However she had suggested for him to ask her anything. So perhaps the secret he held was irrelevant to speak about unless it became necessary. "How do your two best friends feel about our developing relationship? Not that I care about Potter's or Weasley's feelings. I am asking solely on your behalf. I know you consider them family. So their involvement in your life is something I will be accepting of. Surely Saint Potter can come around to accepting my involvement in your life eventually. Weasley might resent us always, but like I said, I don't care. That is something I can live with. Can you?" He asked of her, his grey eyes rather pensive.
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Hermione nodded. "The boys will come around. Harry's a bit skeptical, but I'm sure he will relax soon enough. And Ron…" She sighted thinking of him. More out of exasperation than anything, "I doubt he will be a problem. He's usually quick to move on from something if he loses interest in it, or it him. I have every faith that our relationship will be accepted in time. Not just by those I consider family, but others as well."
She cleared her throat and continued with her explanation. "Do you think I would be where I am if I cared what people thought of me? I have always been, in a word, peculiar. People have always had prejudices against me because of that. I've always fought back to prove I'm more than meets the eye." She punctuated her last statement with a smug grin. "Does that answer your question?"
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Peculiar was one way to describe Hermione Granger. Other vocabulary he found more suitable for describing her was determined, resilient, intelligent, loyal, and indomitable. That smug grin on her face signaled to him he probably needed to add articulate to that list as well. "That does answer my question perfectly. What question do you have for me?" he asked now that it was her turn to speak whatever she had on her inquisitive mind.
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She thought on that for a moment. There was something from long ago that came to the forefront of her mind. "What was it like when Voldemort hugged you? And what other sort of interactions did you have with him? I've just wondering considering your family involvement was intricate." She hoped the subject wasn't a touchy one for Draco, and would completely understand if he refused to talk about it. It seemed strange that of all things came to her mind, never the less she chose to ask.
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Draco thought for a moment on her question, trying to find the right vocabulary to answer it accurately. "It was terrifying. I found the will to endure because I could see my mother and father behind the crowd still alive; beckoning me to do as he said so we could escape." Other moments of his home life crossed his memory. Some she knew of, others she did not.
"That night when I succeeded in getting fellow Death Eaters into Hogwarts but failed to kill Dumbledore myself, my actions were enough to keep me and my parents alive. That summer was dreadful. I felt like a prisoner in my own home. Always trying to go unnoticed so as to avoid any attention from Voldemort or my Aunt who had taken up residence for some time. I thought she was scary, but effective when she taught me Occlumency. Try living with that while she's undergoing raging hormones and…you know woman stuff, anyways." He deterred back to the main topic.
"Snatchers brought in blood traitors for questioning. Meal times were tense. Voldemort would speak about his plans or boast on another ally gained. Or he would interrogate people as spectacle for all of us to watch as entertainment, I suppose. I was ordered to return to Hogwarts for my seventh year of school. Things were a bit better at Hogwarts, but not by much, even for me; let alone those who were against us. I made the mistake of going home for the Easter holiday. That's when you, Potter, and Weasley were captured. After you lot escaped, we convinced my Aunt not to inform Voldemort of it. Even she had a certainty he would react negatively if he found out Potter escaped while in her presence along with the rest of us. Even if she was his new favorite follower of sorts." Draco finished, trying to come up with another question for Hermione.
"I got one for you. All those lessons helping me with the patronus charm. At what point did your patronus change from an otter to a ferret?"
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A worse fate, Hermione couldn't imagine. Being cooped up, even in such a large mansion, with his Aunt and Voldemort. "Yes, I understand the 'women stuff'. That must have been dreadful. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone."
Draco's question to her nearly caused her appear surprised. How long had it been since she even thought about that instance of when her patronus changed shape?" She didn't pay it much mind, even though she knew the cause of the change. But she didn't realize he noticed. "Um…I…well…" She took a deep breath and sorted herself out. "It was when I used a newer memory. Of you. We were getting along quite well and for the first time, I felt that I saw the real you. To see who you truly were, was something I wanted the more we interacted. That day, I got what I wanted."
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"I'm certain you always get what you want, Hermione." Draco teased her as he relaxed and gently grasped her free hand with one of his own. "Do not mistake how I used to be as a 'not real me'. It was real. It was me. If people could only have a real and fake side of them, there would be no meaning to the phrase 'change of heart'. For both positive and negative traits are required to exist in order for a 'change' to occur." He informed, giving some perception to how he viewed how he used to be; to how he was now, especially around her.
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The way her name danced from Draco's mouth tickled Hermione in a way she never knew possible. "Whichever the case is fine with me. However, I do not always get what I want. That is to say, if I want something, I am willing to work hard to achieve my objective. I understand that some things are beyond my ability and reach."
She listened to his further explanation admiring the intelligence behind his perspective. When it became her turn she asked, "Are you content with your job and what you are doing? I know you have that long-coveted office and all, but is there any further growth you desire in your work?"
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"I would say yes to being content. The office is certainly a great achievement. There is some satisfaction to be had at being a superior in an administrative manner at the Alchemy Centre in Egypt. I can't say I miss making the portion orders like I used to do. Truth be told I do not have to work. I do so out of desire, not need. I do miss being out in field like we were before. I would not be opposed to taking a sabbatical and doing more field work in more undeveloped areas of alchemy. Or seeking something entirely different. It really is a matter of what I choose to focus on and desire to achieve." Draco answered, thinking on the next question he was going to ask her. The hand that held her own loosened so it could trace patterns on the palm of her hand.
"Do you dream of living out a fair portion of your life in a city or countryside? We are magical folk so our lifespan is on average 40, maybe 50 years longer than what your parents will live." He reminds her carefully allowing her to take that into consideration for her answer.
He imagined raising a family in Malfoy Manor, as was normal for Pureblood couples to establish within the male or husband's family home. Or eventually living at the Manor with his wife in later years.
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A warm smile came across Hermione's lips as Draco's thumb traced patterns over her palm. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze of welcome at the gesture and loosened to let him continue. "You doing field work in undeveloped areas of alchemy could lead to discoveries or developments!" She voiced positively, not holding their experience with an all knowing creature they had to destroy to dampen potential excursions.
She pondered Draco's question and latter statement for a moment. Of course death was unavoidable, even in the story of the Three Brothers. Even for her parents. "Honestly, it doesn't matter to me where I live. The countryside has its charm and privacy, but unless there is a large family living together, I feel like it might get lonely. A place in the city would be nice if it's near a magical community, though there's the trouble of nosy neighbors. But luckily shielding and perception charms are easy to put around a flat."
As Draco continued drawing circles in Hermione's palm, it began to tickle. She pulled away and rubbed her hands together. "Draco that has begun to tickle!" She explained.
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Draco took her answer with understanding. He was used to his immediate family being all the company he ever needed when it came to home. His parents had been aristocratic socialites. He was used to traveling to the high status elite gatherings that took place in cities all over the wizarding world. Occasionally the Manor would host such events. But overall the isolation of the country side or the need to involve his friends in his life was unfamiliar to him. Living in the city with closer neighbors came with some socializing that he wasn't familiar with. Good think there were charms to deter most anybody.
School was a different matter. At school support of peers meant power and influence. He watched his father play that game his whole life. He too was good at it when it benefitted him. But even those peers he never felt much emotional attachment to them as friends. Zanbini and Goyle were the only ones he would possibly consider sending an owl.
He smirked when she pulled her hand away and rubbed them together gently, "That tickles you say? Are you sure you are not mistaking it for pleasant chills?" He remarked, dancing a trail with his fingers up her arm stopping at the base of her neck. Carefully, he began to trace circular motions with his thumb. Applying a small amount of pressure to confirm it was not the light trailing his thumb had been doing to her palm earlier. But rather a motion sure to be pleasant, instead of ticklish.
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"No, it ticked." Hermione reiterated. She watched in anticipation as Draco teased his way up her arm. When he began massaging her neck, she couldn't help but release a slight groan. It'd been some time since she received a good massage. Ironically it was from Fleur during last Christmas when she spent time with the Weasley family. A family secret technique she said, passed down from her Veela ancestors. Hermione had read that Veela were very affectionate creatures, but the massage she received showed just how kind they were towards friends and family. She felt like a puddle of jelly afterwards.
Draco's fingers weren't nearly as good as Fleur's were, but they were still doing a decent job. Hermione let her head roll forward, her hair now covering her face. "Alright, these are pleasant chills. I don't suppose you are any good at shoulder massages? I'd appreciate one, if that's alright?" She implored, peeking out from behind a curtain of her curls.
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"You will find out." Draco remarked positively, shifting his position so he was turned to the side to have better access to her neck and shoulders. Her cascade of curls had fallen forward, encasing her face from his view; leaving him with a great view of her neck, shoulders, and back. Engaging both of his hands on her neck completely, he gently rubbed both sides of her neck with immaculate care before shifting his hands to her shoulders.
His fingers began to crave contact with her skin. Her neck was exposed, but her shoulders were elegantly covered by her attire. He rubbed her shoulders with thumb circles to encourage tension to loosen. Then switched to applying fingertip pressure points along the arch of her shoulder blades, stopping when he felt a particular troublesome know and worked that location with extra care. "Tough little knot you go there. Must be the result of all that paperwork, don't you think?"
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As soon as Draco's hands went to work, Hermione felt something deep inside break loose. All the tension she had held captive from working in the Magical Creatures department of the Ministry was being wrung out of her like she was a damp cloth. She couldn't speak, her mind was going hazy. A good massage or some form of intimate contact was cleansing her, in a way.
Then Draco found a particular knot, where she had been feeling waves of relaxation turned into minor discomfort. Hermione knew however, it had to be dealt with. "It's been a rough month at the Ministry. Be gentle?" Hermione was exceptionally good at just about anything she did, even if it meant neglecting self care, which was easily done when she kept herself so busy.
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Draco switched his massage technique from point pressure to gentle caressing pressure. With a free hand he moved all her hair over to her left shoulder; then resumed his ministrations. He felt her muscles relax once more under his touch. It made his heart race at the thought of if he was doing this with no fabric to inhibit the extra pleasantries that came from skin to skin contact. "That's it. Deep breath and relax." He spoke in a hushed whisper into her ear as he finished and guided her to lean back against him. His arms holding her loosely. "Better? Comfortable?"
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She complied with Draco's instructions and took a deep breath in, then slowly exhaled. Of course she could feel the hairs on her neck raise up as he whispered into her ear, those pleasant chills again, running down her spine.
As she lay back against Draco's chest, she could feel his heart pounding. It was nice knowing not only did he have a heart, a good one she felt, but that it was because of her that it was working overtime. That thought brought her attention to her own pounding heart. This evening was going much better than planned. She was feeling so good about the situation between the two of them. Plus physically better thanks to his short but sweet shoulder rub. She felt so good, she almost didn't hear him speak. "Oh, yes." She purred, "Very comfortable, thank you." She pulled his arms tighter around her and snuggled in closely. "Here's one: if you could change one thing in your past, what would it be?"
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Draco thought about his life. The many choices he made that while justified to some degree or another, were not his proudest moments. But he was still live so overall they were worth it he reckoned.
One instance stuck in his mind. "Do you recall at the Battle of Hogwarts when everyone thought Potter was dead and I was the first to cross over? When I reached my parents they slowly made us retreat to the back of the crowd. I did not understand this. Voldemort won. Potter was dead. Why weren't they proudly standing like everyone else?"
He continued, "Just as we reached the edge of the crowd, Potter rolled out of the…" he had to pause to not state 'the brainless oaf' or 'half giant' but address the Grounds Keeper of Hogwarts by his name. "…rolled out of Hagrid's arms, alive! It occurred to me then that one of my parents must have lied to get to me and rushed to leave before the lie was detected. We apparated away to safety. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to run back across and toss Potter his wand that I had in my possession. That is the one event I would change about my past."
Draco paused to peek over Hermione's shoulder and look at her, "Potter survived through two attempts on his life at the hands of Voldemort. There is no amount of magic capable that I am aware of explaining the reason for that. I received the epiphany that Potter was the only one capable of defeating Voldemort. My parents and I were past the point of no return and redemption. We were dead if Voldemort truly won and while we would surely pay for our crimes if Potter won, it was a better alternative than death."
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"That's very honorable of you," said Hermione as she stroked Draco's leg. "But that could have been a death sentence to you had Voldemort or someone reacted to such a betrayal…I'd not have liked such an outcome."
Hermione sat up and turned to face Draco. "As for Harry's miraculous pension of not dying, I'm not sure what to say. Everyone says the first time he survived was because of his mother's loving sacrifice to protect him. Everything else…" She shrugged, "…purely speculation. Although I do have a hunch it had to do with the Elder Wand's allegiance. The lore of wands states that the wand chooses its owner. But if that wizard is disarmed by say, an expelliarmus charm, the wand favors the wizard who disarmed the other. And if Harry was right, you disarmed Dumbledor, then Snape came and…" Her expression became grim, remembering the untimely death of Albus Dumbledore. "…well, finished the job."
She paused momentarily. Even to this day, thinking about the late Headmaster nearly brought her to tears. She quickly regained her train of thought. "Anyway, it was you, at the time whom the wand recognized as its owner. Then Harry disarmed you in your home. It may not have been the Elder Wand that you were holding, but it still somehow knew that Harry was the one to do it. That's why Voldemort's killing curse backfired, the wand favored Harry and it wouldn't harm the one the wand recognized as its owner in such a way." She against shrugged her shoulders, "Again, all speculation. My theory is only based on wand lore and really can't be one hundred percent proven."
In actuality, Hermione did extensive research on the subject, and was simply being humble.
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"I suspect the amount of likeness for my behalf in either outcome would have been the same really. Honorable death in option one according to the eyes of the good and just or option two cowardly alive but loyal in the eyes of the superior faction. Makes no difference really." He countered, speculating if he had chosen different.
The idea of the Elder Wand being loyal to him quite by accident and the events that made it loyal to Potter instead of Voldemort; he had never speculated such before. "Because of the tale of the Three Brothers, it is assumed the wizard who possesses the Elder Wand must be killed in order to gain its loyalty to the desired newcomer. I never thought that a simple expelliarus charm counted…"
Draco realized something. Snape, his godfather, didn't have to die. He was killed because Voldemort thought that the Elder Wand was loyal to him for killing Dumbledore. When really it had been Draco and then Potter. "With that speculation then there really was no hope for me to put my family back in good graces with Voldemort. Had I killed Dumbledore like I was supposed to, Voldemort would have killed me regardless of his promises to gain the wand, instead of thinking it was Snape it was loyal to. Just another revelation of the past I was unaware of." Draco noted, hoping to think of a question for Hermione to change the subject to something lighter. "Proof or not, I doubt anyone would argue on that speculation of yours except perhaps the Elder Wand Maker himself. Who I hope neither of us meet for a very very long time." Draco concluded and a clock on the wall began to chime. The hour was getting late.
"There is never enough hours in the day to spend with you, is there? I could come visit you in the Ministry this week if you would like?"
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Hermione could see that what she said about the Elder Wand had upset Draco. Of course she knew Professor Snape never had to die. He died because of Voldemort's greed and envy, but if he knew who the real owner of the wand was, Draco would have been in trouble. She held Draco's hand to comfort him. She couldn't agree more with his comment about the maker of the Elder Wand. There was no need to say anything, so she simply nodded.
That bloody clock. She'd never really liked the way it chimed, but she never got around to finding another one. She did rely on the darn thing to keep herself from overworking at night. She'd spent plenty of nights at Hogwarts studying, sometimes into the next morning. Mentally, she could still do it, physically, not so much. She wasn't a child anymore and needed rest. "There don't seem to be enough hours in the day for anything. And a visit would be lovely. I have my lunch at one o clock every day, so feel free to drop by." She punctuated her offer with a wink and stood up.
Hermione packed up a few left over scones for Draco, silently cursing the time for passing by so quickly. The old saying, time flies when you're crazy about someone came to her mind. "Here, for later." She said, presenting Draco with his to go bag of goodies. "Also, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you earlier. Things turned out the way they did for a reason. I am glad you are still here."
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Traveling the long distance for a lunch date would be somewhat inconvenient since he couldn't simply portkey to the Ministry of Magic. But he could Portkey to his home and apparate to one of the Ministry entrances easy enough. "It's a date. I'll see you on Wednesday at one o clock." He reassured.
He stood and got his coat on while she disappeared from view. When she returned bearing scones to take with him and her unnecessary apology it reminded him just how good her heart really was. "Thank you. You really have no reason to apologize. It is what it is. All we can do is learn from it and keeping moving forward."
They approached her front door and that familiar churning of reluctance to leave knotted in his stomach. There was never enough hours in the day to spend with her the once a week they were able to meet. Draco suddenly resented his job being so far away. An idea came to him that he would investigate further once he resumed work on Monday and visited the Ministry on Wednesday.
He tucked the scones wrapped scones into his coat pocket; then reached for her hand to grasp lightly, "Thank you for dinner and everything. While our letters are a nice correspondence, it can never replace talking to you in person." He told her, bringing her fingers up to his lips to give them a soft kiss.
. . . . . . .
Draco's lips met with the backs of Hermione's fingers, lighting a fire inside of her. He was so proper and just a bit naughty at time, it was like he was a character from a romance novel come to life. Although she felt the handsome, rich, heart throb was a bit of an overdone cliché, she at least was glad it was embodied by Draco. She couldn't imagine a better scenario. Or could she?
When Draco released her hand, she reached out and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him in for a hot kiss. She wasn't about to let him leave without a proper farewell. Her lips met his and she was reminded how soft they were. Hermione became lost in the sensation, but quickly regained control. She sucked one of his lips into her mouth, gently. When she released it, she also relinquished her grasp from upon his coat and stepped back. "You are very welcome, Draco. I look forward to having lunch with you. Be a couple minutes early, won't you? Jeremy at the front desk can show you to my desk."
Learning from the past to make a better future for one's self and loved ones was something she was taught to be a virtue. It was how good people became great. Two great men came to mind at the notion, Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. Both had learned from their mistakes and fought for a better future. "You're very right. Unfortunately, that means moving forward into the night."
Again, Hermione glared at the clock, as though it were at fault for it becoming so late. There were so many things to talk about! Who was his favorite author? His favorite books growing up and currently? Does he prefer coffee or tea? And of course she could think up a slew of rather inappropriate questions, thinking back to Draco's reaction, or lack thereof, when Crookshanks produced the riding crop. But she shook those thoughts from her mind as they approached the door.
. . . . . . .
Draco never considered himself a submissive personality individual. However, he was learning that he greatly appreciated when Hermione was bold in their displays of affection. When he displayed tenderness and proper etiquette she often returned with fiery passion and dominance that drove him to the brink of thrilling madness.
He could taste the sweetness of jam on her lips as she pulled on the lapels of his suit jacket. He took a step forward bringing his hands up, placing them on her hips pulling forward. The tip of her tongue flicked across his lips, seeking entrance. He obeyed and got a surprise when she sucked on his lower lip. His grip on her tightened as his hands left her hips and circled around her back, holding her closer.
When his lip was released his arms loosened and she took a step back. "I will." Draco promised her, his chest heaving slightly as his demand for more oxygen became noticeable. The visible clock served as a painful reminder that Wednesday at twelve fifty eight pm was three and a half days away.
He opened the door, taking a step into the night air. That definitely helped clear his head and calm down some other unseen extremities from their heated moment. "Farewell Hermione, until we meet again." He said, bidding her final goodbye and apparated out of sight.
. . . . . . .
"Farewell, my dearest dragon." Hermione said to the night air.