Chapter 12
December 5, 2018
There was one opinion mutually agreed upon by every staffer from House to Senate from Republican to Democrat, from the Blue Dog Coalition to the House Freedom Caucus. Holiday parties were the best part of the year.
Organizations tried to make up for a year of incessant calls and emails and impromptu office visits and with endless liquor and high end hors d'oeuvres over the two weeks that Congress was in session in the week of December, and you know what? It worked. Hard liquor and teriyaki chicken kabobs were a balm to the soul for a few glorious days.
Even Hermione wasn’t immune to the pull of holiday parties, not when Remus said that staff could leave early if they wanted to go network. No one missed Tonks’ eye roll when he mentioned networking as the purpose of these events.
Most parties started at 5pm, and Hermione wasn’t going to say no when Lee and Tonks dragged everyone out of the office. Tonight’s big event was the American Medical Association party in the Rayburn Foyer, which was thankfully in their building. The foyer was also one of the hardest event spots to book, due to the airy windows and large space that allowed for a ton of people to pack in and gorge themselves on free food and booze.
For someone who was never a party-person, Hermione felt a bit exhilarated at the chance to let down her hair for a bit and reap the very few benefits that came from working for a mere pittance and zero thanks in Congress.
She even had friends to meet, which was a bit of an odd concept. Despite Pansy’s teasing, Hermione had taken a leap of faith that Monday and attended the staff assistant holiday party at a local bar. Putting faces to name tags was more exciting than she thought it could be as she finally met people who she’d complained and laughed with via email for the past year. So now she boasted a few friends, and she knew they’d all be at this party. There were very few people who wouldn’t attend, including her boss who was slated to show up. Draco also said he’d likely stop in, if only for a photo and handshake.
“Hermione!” a voice called out, and she turned around. It was never surprising that people could tell who she was from the back, not with hair as wild as her own.
“Mandy! Cho!” Hermione beamed.
“We’ll see you in there,” Lee smiled, saluting Hermione as he and Tonks kept walking.
“I’m shocked you actually showed up,” Mandy Brocklehurt, a nose-ring wearing, leather blazer donning staff assistant who currently served as the LGBT Congressional Staff Association’s secretary exclaimed.
Hermione shrugged, “I got my work done and felt like I shouldn’t miss it.”
“It’s been an awful day,” Cho frowned. The woman was a bit older than Hermione, having completed a year of law school before realizing she hated it and coming to the Hill. She’d quickly made the discovery that her new venture was no more pleasant than becoming a lawyer.
“What happened?” Hermione asked.
“Our scheduler forgot to add a meeting with the Secretary of Defense to the schedule, so he literally just walked into the front office when my boss wasn’t even there with his security detail,” Cho groaned.
Hermione and Mandy gasped.
“How does that even happen?” Mandy crowed.
“I think they’re firing our scheduler after that…”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. “I can’t imagine they won’t ask you to take the job.”
Cho shrugged, “It’s just a bit nerve wracking, moving up. Staff assistant duties are like a warm sweater at this point.”
“No, Cho,” Hermione replied, shaking her head as they neared the loud din of the party. “You can do this. We believe in you; and anyways, there’s a scheduler’s listserv that’s full of people who will be more than happy to help you get settled!”
“I guess you’re right,” the pretty woman smiled. “Thanks, Hermione.”
“Who’s ready to drink?” Mandy asked, shaking out her short hair. Two hands shot up immediately.
Despite the packed quarters and the slight chill coming in from the windows, Hermione was having fun. Both Cho and Mandy had a fair number of friends from their tendency to go out to happy hours every night around the Capitol, and Hermione was grateful for the way she slotted into conversation seamlessly. It was nice to have people who helped her feel like she belonged in this world.
It was evident from the increasingly raucous laughter and loud conversations in the room that people were taking advantage of the open bar; she’d even seen her boss walk by, and like a dad, he stopped to introduce himself to her friends and embarrass her a bit. Honestly… she loved that he even cared enough to acknowledge her in public; she knew just how many members would walk by their staffers without ever saying hi.
“Anyone need another drink?” Hermione asked the small group of people she’d been talking to. She felt a bit disappointed when everyone shook their heads, and a flutter of anxiety thinking about whether or not she’d find them again as she fought the crowd to the nearest bar stand.
She immediately felt bad for the poor people working the bars, as the lines didn’t seem to stop growing.
Hermione looked around to see if she recognized anyone in line near her with no luck, and then just focused on not getting cut in line. Senators and Congresspeople continued to cut, but that was honestly to be expected. No one was going to say anything with the telltale shiny pins proudly hanging from a necklace or placed on a jacket.
The queue moved quickly, which wasn’t surprising given that they were handing people glasses with a shot of liquor and a can of soda and miniature wine bottles instead of mixing and pouring at this point. She didn’t blame them.
“Oh! It’s my lucky day,” a high, reedy voice called behind Hermione. She turned around with a deer in headlights look and tried to fix her face.
“Hello, Senator Slughorn,” she smiled. The man looked bulgier than normal and his appearance was only made more jarring by his tie that had Peanuts characters playing with snowballs on it. So. Tacky.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, already sidling up to her where she stood four people from the front of the line. Damn it, he didn’t even have staff with him to save her from being alone in conversation with him.
“Of course, sir,” she replied automatically. Why did he even remember who she was?
“Are you enjoying your first holiday season? Mine wouldn’t be complete without making the long trek over from the Senate for this party…”
“Oh?” she asked politely. Or maybe it wasn’t polite; she just didn’t want to talk to him, not when he was still panting from the walk over from the Senate. Honestly, it was just a walk to the train, then a walk from the train to the Rayburn Foyer. It wasn’t even that far!
“Absolutely,” he nodded, looking around for a moment with watery eyes. “There’s a certain candy they serve that I just can’t get enough of! Take a look at this?”
She didn’t know what to expect when he slowly opened his jacket, but ziploc bags filled with candy was not it.
“Crystallized pineapple! I bring my own bags so I can take it home… no one makes it quite like this catering company.”
God have mercy on her soul. Who was this candy-thieving monster?
“Of course, sir.”
Hermione entertained the man’s babbling about meeting with the Secretary of Agriculture earlier that day, truly wishing someone would save her.
“There we are!” the man smiled after putting down his cup and convincing the bartender to refill it with far more liquor than a single shot. “Down the hatch, then. Cheers, Miss Granger.”
Hermione took a sip of her white wine, hoping that the man would pass out or find someone more worthy of his time than her. God knows there were enough flashy people there to entertain him.
They moved to the side of the makeshift bar, and Hermione was reaching a point of feeling far too uncomfortable.
He knew who she worked for… and she also knew the man would absolutely tell James that she was being rude if she ditched him. Horace Slughorn was notoriously petty.
“Now, will your schedule change in the new year? Perhaps enough to join my little dinner group?”
Hermione let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Unfortunately not, sir. My church group is still on Wednesdays.”
The man placed a sweaty hand on her forearm. She was in a dress with three-quarter-length sleeves, so his fingers were gripping her skin. Her stomach rolled, and she was close to pulling a Cinderella and running out of the room. It was better to lose a shoe than the contents of her stomach.
He wasn’t holding on tight enough to hurt, but enough for her to realize he knew what he was doing. It was literally the example that they gave in the Office of Congressional Workplace Rights’ training, and she’d give the same answer she did during class in small group discussion if asked. This was wrong! It didn’t have to be sexual to be an abuse of power; his actions were making her uncomfortable and also were unwanted.
And worst of all, was how everyone just walked by like nothing was amiss. Did the cat-plunged-in-water look of worry on her face really make her appear like Horace Slughorn’s young girlfriend? Didn’t everyone know he was married?
“Excuse me, Horace. It’s hardly appropriate to be leering over a young woman in such a public setting?”
Hermione’s knees almost gave out.
“Draco, my boy!” the man replied, ignoring Draco’s question. It felt like an SNL skit. He was still holding onto Hermione.
“I’m going to ask you to remove your hand,” Draco said through gritted teeth. The blond was looming over the much shorter, squat man, and Hermione wanted to cry. He was so hot, but he was so, so mad right now. In public. On her behalf.
The moment that Hermione’s arm was free of the sweaty man’s, Draco placed a most welcome hand on her back and guided her out of the room. Where everyone could watch.
He didn’t speak, even as Slughorn spluttered behind them. Without looking back, Hermione could tell that he was clearly more offended that they left than repentant over very publicly breaking every norm of how an older senator should interact with a much younger woman.
The crowd mostly cleared for a stalking Draco, outside of a few drunkards, and Hermione kept her eyes down to make sure she didn’t trip. That was the last thing she needed when Draco was walking this fast with his long legs.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low and angry as they walked up the stairs from the foyer and entered a mostly empty hallway. His hand was burning through her dress, and he didn’t seem keen on removing it.
“I’m fine,” she replied, voice a bit shaky from the whiplash she just experienced.
“I’m parked in the garage,” he informed her.
For those wondering, his hand was still on her back. They’d now passed two Congressmen and seven random people. But no one was counting.
They were quiet as they made their way down the elevator to the Rayburn parking garage, where Draco was parked close by.
Draco’s jaw was tight enough she thought he’d break his teeth in half, and Hermione didn’t protest as he strapped her seatbelt in.
Hermione hated that her mind was comparing this to Edward Cullen saving Bella from the weird motorcycle gang in Port Angeles, but… that’s where it immediately went.
She wondered if this was a good time to tell Draco that she didn’t have her jacket. Thankfully, she’d brought her Goyard, not that Draco even seemed to notice.
“Are you okay to drive?” she asked tentatively.
Draco let out a breath. “I’m fine. I didn’t drink.”
“That’s not why I’m asking, Draco.”
“I’m fine. Do you need dinner?”
“Yes, please,” she replied, thinking of something that he’d like quickly. “Thai?”
“Thai,” he agreed.
She called over to their local place on Pennsylvania Avenue, knowing they’d have the order ready by the time they were there.
“I almost killed him,” Draco offered.
“What if he fought back? He’s… rotund.” Hermione let out a snort-giggle hybrid at her own observation.
Draco looked amused for the first time since he walked up like a vengeful Congressman superhero from a movie that she never knew she needed to exist.
“I’d still kill him. He has no stamina, he’s all weight.”
“He was panting all over me while talking about how hard it was to get here from the Senate,” she frowned at the expression on Draco’s face. That was clearly the wrong thing to say. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. That’s the problem… that’s exactly the problem,” Draco muttered. He pulled up outside of the restaurant, sliding into a spot reserved for buses. Hermione would normally call him on it, but not today. He handed over his wallet, and she just hopped out of the car.
By the time she’d gotten back, he looked a little more composed.
“They threw in spring rolls,” Hermione smiled. “She asked how my handsome man was doing.”
Draco shook his head, smiling. “I mean… if my face gets us spring rolls, I’m not going to turn them down.”
“Thank you for your service.”
Hermione took things into her own hands once they got inside.
“Let’s go put on pajamas,” she directed, dropping the food and her bag onto his kitchen counter counter. She took his hand and Draco followed her upstairs without a snarky remark, which showed just how drained he was. She could handle this.
By the time they were sitting on the couch with their food in their laps and Phyllis and Bob Vance’s wedding on TV, Draco was no longer clenching his fists or letting out ridiculous little growling noises.
But Hermione sat next to him, feeling the full weight of what’d happened.
Draco stormed in and pulled her away from a disgusting old creep.
Draco put his reputation at risk when he saw that she was uncomfortable. He put his reputation at risk to save hers from the mutters that would have started about a drunk young girl hitting on a married senator if he didn’t intervene when he did.
Draco was now risking the wrath of blowing up his father’s perfect little plan for her benefit.
Everything that he did was for her sake.
And feeling far too much like Pansy, she realized that there was only one proper way to thank him.
So once they were done eating, she took a deep breath and dropped off the couch onto her knees as gracefully as one could with a glass table nearby.
“Sweetheart?” Draco asked, confused.
“I’m… can I?” she said, knowing that he’d understood what she meant even. If her blushing cheeks weren’t enough, her fingers trailed up his joggers towards the elastic waistband that sat snug on his hips. He knew.
“Sweetheart…” he repeated, though his voice was now full of restraint and hunger and void of confusion. She could work with that.
“Show me how?” she asked again.
“Fuck,” Draco growled, not even apologizing for cussing. “Careful, sugar…”
Hermione started to pull his joggers off, and Draco was kind enough to lift himself off the couch.
Seeing his dick from this angle, head on, quite literally, brought up a lot of emotions. Fear and arousal top of the list.
Fear of failure was always knocking at the front door of Hermione’s mind, and she knew that giving head was a test she didn’t want to fail. If Draco was guiding her, there was less chance of doing that. And it was hot when he showed her what to do… the combination of his experience and his willingness to use that voice and restrain himself for her benefit did something to her.
“Touch me, Hermione,” Draco instructed, hands clenched in the cushion of the couch. “Your soft little hands always feel so good… I think about them at the worst of times.”
She stroked the length of his cock with her hand, feeling braver as she repeated the motion that was becoming more and more familiar to her. His body responded in kind, and she was fascinated at how quickly he grew even harder at her touch. She used her thumb to smear precum over the head of his cock before taking a deep breath. She could do this, she told herself. She wanted to do this for him, and not just because he’d quite literally been her knight in shining armor tonight.
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to…”
“I want to.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d even stopped to consider them.
Her eyes met his, and she had to squeeze her thighs together at the look he gave her.
“I, um, I just don’t want to do it wrong,” she admitted.
His hand caressed her cheek and slid into her hair, his touch warm and soothing.
“As long as you don’t use your teeth, it’s kind of hard to do it wrong,” he admitted.
“You promise?”
His fingers momentarily tightened in her hair as he gazed at her, a muttered curse slipping from his lips.
“You have no idea just how much I’ve thought about doing this with you.”
His admission that he’d fantasized about this very thing gave her the confidence to lean in and take a tentative lick and then another once she realized that this wasn’t too scary.
She looked up at him, to gauge his reaction, and he was looking at her as if she was the most wonderful creature he’d ever seen. His desire for her made her feel sexy and more confident as she stroked him again.
“When you thought about this, was I on my knees?” she whispered.
“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he muttered, tipping his head back. “Yes sugar, always on your knees. Just like this. Such a good girl.”
Something about his words thrilled her, and she knew she wanted to fulfill at least one of his apparent many fantasies about her. She leaned in less tentatively this time and swirled her tongue around the head of his cock.
“Yes, just like that. Use your mouth, take me in your mouth,” he rasped as he gathered her abundant curls in his hands, pulling her hair back from her face.
Everything she’d read said to breathe through your nose when going down on a man, but that was much harder to do than she thought it would be. His erect penis felt huge in her hands and downright enormous in her mouth. She slid her mouth down as far she could without gagging, but nowhere near far enough to take all of him. This was… awkward, she had to admit to herself. It was tough to find the right rhythm and still manage to breathe and avoid gagging and keep her lips covering her teeth so she didn’t accidentally scrape him.
“Yes, that’s it. Your mouth is so hot. You feel so good, sugar,” Draco panted, his beautiful grey eyes searing into her own as she looked up at him. Looking up at him like this, as she bobbed her head up and down on his dick should have felt weird, but in that moment, everything felt right.
“Put your hand here, around the base,” he instructed, drawing her hand from his thigh to wrap around his cock again. Her saliva had dripped down the shaft, and she realized as he briefly guided her hand in time with the movement of her mouth that she could cover all of him this way.
“Yes, just like that,” he encouraged as she moved at a faster pace.
His hips began to rock with the bobbing of her head, and his hand tightened in her hair.
“Let me?” he asked.
Hermione nodded, a weird stilted motion given that she had a large cock in her mouth. Draco started to set a much faster tempo, leaving Hermione feeling like she’d been way off in terms of what he was looking for. Before she could think too much on it, Draco hit the back of her throat, and she didn’t gag. Was this… not having a gag reflex?
“Perfect girl,” Draco crooned, nearly on the edge of the couch as he moved his hips back and forth.
The moment had her feeling emotional for some reason she couldn’t pinpoint, and she took her hand that was resting on her lap and moved it to wrest Draco’s from where it was squeezing the couch.
“I’m close, sweetheart,” the blond groaned after a while, pulling back from her mouth. Voracious reader that she was, Hermione knew that a man’s cum wasn’t exactly something known for its great taste. She hoped Draco’s was salty and not sour or rotten tasting. Maybe this would be his only physical fault? She felt relieved as he pulled back, not sure she was quite ready to have him come in her mouth, especially if it tasted awful. She didn’t stop him as he pulled back, only moving to climb on the couch and grip his now wet dick into her own hands.
“Hermione,” Draco whispered against her lips, their hands moving together over his cock. Pansy always said that handjobs were a chump’s choice, but Draco seemed to be enjoying it well enough by the noises he was making.
His cum spilled between her fingers as he groaned only moments later, tongue flicking against her own.
“So good, Hermione,” Draco praised, kissing her one last time and making her feel like this was far from a failed first attempt. The man was willing to taste himself in order to kiss her; it felt like a win.
“Thank you,” she replied earnestly, drawing a laugh from Draco. She blushed.
“I’m not laughing at you, sweetheart. Your love of praise is just extremely endearing.”
She shrugged, blushing further. She’d just had Draco Malfoy’s penis in her mouth, and now his cum was splattered over her fingers, and she felt proud and awkward all at the same time. She looked down at her hand and the pearly essence, suddenly curious. She brought one finger to her mouth and took a tentative lick. It was… weird. Salty. But not horrifically disgusting. Interesting, she thought. She definitely wasn’t prepared to swallow all of it, but at least now she knew what to expect.
She looked up at Draco then who was staring at her with a look of wonder.
“You’re gonna kill me, sugar,” he said with a breathless sigh, “And I love it.”
There was no reply that showed how she felt more clearly than another kiss.
xxxxxx
December 6, 2018
Hermione woke up from her dreamless sleep to the loud sound of cursing.
“What?” she croaked.
It was still dark out, what the hell was going on?
“Shit,” Draco groaned.
“Draco?” she asked before realizing she’d spent the night. “What’s wrong?”
“Shit,” he repeated.
Hermione rubbed her eyes, hoping to wake up a bit. Was someone dead? Draco never cussed like this in front of her.
“You’re scaring me.”
He sighed, face lit up by his phone as he scrolled furiously through some webpage.
“Politico wrote about my altercation with Slughorn in Playbook this morning.”
“What?” she asked. If Draco was supposed to work out at 7am, that meant it was like 6:15, which was far too early for this much thought.
Draco was far more patient with her early morning confusion than she would’ve been had roles been reversed..
“Politico Playbook’s spotted section… ‘Last night, a very Grinch-like Congressman Draco Malfoy spotted by multiple readers in a tense interaction with Senator Horace Slughorn over a young woman last night at the American Medical Association’s holiday party in Rayburn Office Building. According to those present, the interaction ended with Malfoy guiding the woman out of the party, a hand splayed across her back. We ask any readers with more information to reach out to us at our tip line here.’”
Well. Shit was right.
“Are there photos?” she asked, brain slowly turning on.
“No, thank God. With the way my phone’s blown up in the 20 minutes since Playbook came out this morning, though, I don’t think that’s going to matter.”
“Sounds more like Gossip Girl than Politico, honestly,” Hermione muttered. “It’s going to be fine, okay? No one knows who I am, and it sounds like they have no details. I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re back from the gym.”
“I should go, you’re right... I’ll be back at eight. First… are you okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine,” she smiled. “Just a bit sad I couldn’t enjoy my first holiday party on the Hill. I’m just grateful you were there.”
“Blaise was mad,” Draco admitted, and if the lights were on Hermione would’ve seen his red cheeks. “I saw you and couldn’t stop watching. So when Slughorn touched you… I couldn’t help myself.”
“My hero,” Hermione yawned.
“Go back to bed, baby,” Draco laughed.
Hermione did just that, knowing that Draco woke up far earlier than he needed to in order to ‘start his day off right’ before leaving for Orangetheory. Her alarm would wake her up when she needed to.
When that time came, she also woke up to twelve texts from Pansy, most of them question marks and expletives.
Hermione: Can you bring me a dress and tights over to Draco’s please?
Pansy: WHY
Hermione: So I can go to work in something different than I wore yesterday?
Pansy: You know that’s not what I’m asking.
Hermione: I’ll tell you when you get here.
Pansy: Bitch.
Hermione: I’m making breakfast.
Pansy, to her credit, arrived before Hermione had even gotten potatoes and onions into the skillet. She was making a hearty breakfast, but they deserved it this morning.
“What is going on?” Pansy asked, holding her phone in Hermione’s face. “What did Sluggy do?”
Hermione sighed. “He caught up with me in line at the bar at the American Medical Association party… he kept touching me and opened up his pockets to show me the crystallized pineapple he stole from the food table. It was like… Napoleon Dynamite with tater tots, but he brought Ziploc bags from home.”
“Enough with the upsetting details!” Pansy shrieked. “That’s not what I’m asking about.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, “It’s too early for that, Pansy. He grabbed my arm and every time I moved it he just clenched harder... Then Draco came over and told him to let me go.”
Pansy’s smirk grew, clearly loving the inside scoop. “Did Draco punch him?”
“Pansy. No.”
“All I’m saying is that would’ve been warranted given the circumstances. Then what?”
“Then Draco made a snippy remark and guided me out of the Rayburn Foyer and we got in his car.”
“That’s really hot.”
Hermione held a finger up, listening to make sure Draco wasn’t walking inside early before she spoke next.
“I know he was really mad, but honestly, all I could think was that it felt like the scene where Edward rolled up in his car to save Bella in the first book. It was hot. He was so, so mad.”
“Draco’s hotter than Robert Pattinson and you aren’t a plain, emotionally stunted robot. Did you… do it?”
Hermione blushed, “No, but we tried something new.”
“Head?” she asked. Hermione nodded, glad her back was to Pansy as she whisked eggs and milk together. “On you or him?”
“Him!” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. “It felt right.”
“Did he like it?”
Draco opened the door at that very moment. Saved by the bell. But, for the record… he loved it.
“Pansy’s here!” Hermione shouted, not wanting Draco to say or do anything he’d regret while walking in.
He sauntered into the room, still covered in sweat, yet fine as hell in his tight Lululemon shirt and athletic shorts.
“Good workout?” she asked with a smile.
He nodded, “I needed it. Good morning, Pansy.”
“Mr. M,” Pansy replied in acknowledgement. “Nice mention in Playbook, looking forward to a quiet day.”
Draco cracked a smile at that, “That’s why I have you as my gatekeeper, hm?”
“I won’t let you down,” she saluted halfheartedly. “I’m leaving. Everything’s in a garment bag on the counter, sis.”
“Thank you,” Hermione smiled gratefully. “You don’t want breakfast?”
“No,” Pansy shook her head. “I figure I should get an early start on the hellscape that’s become my day, thanks to you.”
“We love you!” Hermione shouted, getting only a scoff in reply as Pansy walked out of the house.
They ate quickly, and Hermione followed Draco upstairs with the garment bag Pansy had put together. Leave it to her not to stuff it all in a reusable bag the way Hermione certainly would have.
“Need a shower?” Draco asked.
Hermione snorted, “I took a shower already.”
He frowned, “It was worth a try.”
“Leave the door open and I’ll keep an eye on you,” she giggled.
“A flooded house is the last thing I need today,” Draco sighed, getting undressed and hopping in the warm water.
Hermione was overjoyed, but not surprised, that Pansy had chosen her new green Ted Baker dress. It was gorgeous and comfortable and seasonally appropriate, which made her love it even more. She’d tried it on when shopping with Pansy at Nordstrom, and put it back down after seeing the price tag. Pansy had bought it for her anyways and claimed it was part of Hermione’s Christmas gift, so she couldn’t even complain.
“What do we need to do?” Hermione asked as she started putting her foundation on.
“Slughorn is a coward. He isn’t going to say anything to reporters or anyone else,” Draco replied from the shower.
“Okay? So… what does that mean? We’re fine?” She had a lot of questions that Draco didn’t seem keen to answer.
“You’re fine, sweetheart. No one knows who I was walking out, and even if they do, they saw that I was extricating you from an uncomfortable situation.”
She waited to put her mascara on until he was done speaking, not wanting to poke herself in the eye out of shock.
“What about you, then? Will you be in trouble?”
“Hermione,” Draco’s voice was on just the right side of unpatronizing, but it was a close thing. She stiffened, ready to snap at him if he talked down to her. “I’m not in trouble. This is the Spotted section of Politico Playbook, which only people in our universe read; it could’ve been so much worse. It’s just another thing to worry about today.”
“I’m sorry, Draco. This sucks.”
He snorted at her bluntness. “That’s one way to put it. We’ll be fine.”
Hermione finished doing her mascara before asking the question on her mind. “Will your father know?”
“Yes, but lucky for us he hates Slughorn and will excoriate him for any and every reason. I don’t think he’ll be asked about this, though, not when we still need to pass the defense bill out of both chambers.”
“Thank God. Just… text me that you’re fine throughout the day? I feel like you’d run yourself into the ground before asking for help.”
“I won’t need help.”
“That’s not what I was asking, Draco.”
He shut the shower off, climbing out and grabbing his towel before he gave Hermione a soft look.
“I’ll update you on whether or not I’m alive.”
“Good,” she smiled.
“You look gorgeous, sugar. Is this new?”
She nodded, “An early Christmas gift from Pansy.”
“Well Pansy has great taste and deserves the very generous end-of-year bonus I’m telling her about today.”
“She’s going to love that,” Hermione smiled, leaving off that Pansy had been complaining since Hermione received her bonus and raise. She’d thrown a pint of ice cream in Hermione’s face after the Democrat suggested that maybe she should rethink her support for the party of fiscal conservatism and slashing government spending if she wanted a bonus.
“I figured she would. It’s the least I can do for my staff with all the work they do.”
“You’re a good boss,” she smiled, walking up to kiss him now that he had his ridiculously tight underwear on. She’d asked him about them, and received an eye roll and snarky question over whether or not she wanted to see underwear lines through his pants. When she’d answered no, he told her that she could thank these boxer shorts for the lack of lines. Dating had her learning so much more than she ever wanted to know about the male form.
She stood on her tippy toes to kiss him, smiling as Draco squeezed her and picked her up off the ground.
“I’ll see you tonight, sugar.”
“Okay,” she smiled. “Don’t forget to text me!”
“You act like you’re not the one who goes five hours without replying.”
“I sit at the front desk, Draco! What do you expect? Me to respond to your complaints about Moody’s glass eye turning towards you in hearings where anyone could see?”
“I need someone to commiserate with me without judgement.”
“I am judging you, Draco! He lost his eye in the war.”
“He’s still a real piece of work.”
“You’re making fun of his eye, not his personality. That’s the difference.”
Draco groaned. “Just let me have my fun during these hearings so I don’t fall asleep like Binns, okay?”
“Whatever you need to do,” she sighed, sounding far more aggrieved than she felt.
“Pansy’s drama is rubbing off on you.”
“Take it back!”
“Nope,” the blond replied, popping the P in his mouth.
“Goodbye, Draco,” Hermione smiled, turning to gather her makeup back in the three-year-old Ipsy bag she carried it around in and left it on the counter.
“Goodbye, sweetheart.”
xxx
The day was normal, much to Hermione’s relief. Unfortunately, normal for the holiday season meant signing for tons of Christmas packages for the Congressman, entertaining ten-minute conversations with all of the lovely Capitol mail people who dropped them off, and trying to interview spring interns while pacing the hallway and taking notes at the same time.
“Hey girl,” Tonks greeted, making Hermione jump a bit in her seat. “You’re always so tense, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.”
Hermione laughed lightly, “I can’t help it, I get into the zone when I’m flying through emails.”
“Wanna grab coffee? I didn’t get home until late last night, and ended up going out to a few bars after the AMA party. I think I’ll die without more caffeine.”
Unable to quench her curiosity as to why Tonks wanted to grab coffee, she nodded. “Can you grab Jalen to sit up front while I finish up this email? Thanks.”
Tonks babbled for a bit about her upcoming holiday plans on their walk over to the Longworth Dunkin Donuts, and Hermione felt a bit disappointed to realize that the other girl probably just wanted someone to talk to. Penelope was a bit straight-laced and didn’t spend much time with their staff outside of office hours, and Dorcas was off at a hearing with the Congressman. Hermione was the only option.
“So… I don’t really know how to say this tactfully, but I saw what happened last night,” Tonks said once they’d sat down at a two-person table.
Hermione played the fool well, something she’d never done before in her life. “What?”
“With Slughorn and Malfoy.”
She bit down her retort at the lack of respect in the way Tonks addressed her partner.
“Oh… that was uncomfortable,” she replied, shrugging. “He has had a weird interest in me for a while.”
“Malfoy or Slughorn?”
Shit. She set herself up for that one.
“Senator Slughorn. He has this… dinner group he wants me to join, he’s brought it up when he’s come to meet with the Congressman over their companion bills.”
Tonks’ face twisted up in disgust. “Ew. I bet he has a dungeon in his house, no shit.”
Hermione shrugged.
“But anyways, I saw the way Malfoy came in like a pissed off boyfriend.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, Tonks.”
“I’m no spring chicken, Hermione. I know a look of jealousy when I see one, especially on a human robot like Malfoy.”
How did she get out of this? Was there a fire alarm around here she could pull?
Tonks spoke again, “I know that I’m never the serious one, but I mean it… I hope you know what you’re doing. And I’m here if you need to talk.”
“Thanks, Tonks. Call me naive, but I really don’t know what you think happened… Senator Slughorn made me uncomfortable, and Congressman Malfoy clearly realized it while walking by. I’m grateful he intervened when I couldn’t do anything without looking rude,” Hermione shrugged, reverting to the sweet girl persona that she masqueraded as in professional settings. It was much easier to be known as kind and hardworking than bossy and abrupt, so… she tried her best to do just that.
Tonks smiled, “Whatever you say, Hermione! Want to grab onion rings before the cafe closes?”
Hermione took the olive branch for what it was, making a mental note that worries were now coming from inside her office. She didn’t expect the walls to close in so quickly, honestly, which showed just how optimistic her thinking had been.
She texted Draco when she was back at her desk, knowing that Remus, Frank and James were gone for the next hour at a holiday party over in the main Capitol building. No one would judge her if she texted in the first place, realistically, but she just felt better doing it when office leadership wasn’t there.
Hermione: Alive?
Draco: Thriving. Pansy somehow talked me into allowing her to buy champagne and cake for the office after I shared with her that everyone got a bonus… so we’re having a bit of an afternoon.
Hermione: Is she drunk?
Draco: Respectfully... I can never tell. Theo is making cow eyes at her. Is this something I should know about? How did I miss this?
Hermione: Nope.
Draco: I blame you for getting me more involved than I ever wanted to be with my staff.
Hermione: Think about it this way… they’ll never have anything but cultishly good things to say about you. If anything, I should be thanked.
Draco: I’ll thank you tonight, sweetheart.
Hermione: Some of us are still working. Goodbye!
Draco: Save me.
Draco was in far too good of a mood to bring up the weird, slightly threatening conversation with Tonks, so she left it until later. By the grace of God or maybe just the man’s cowardice, Slughorn didn’t try to make amends by phone or stopping by. James didn’t even bring up that he got a call from the senator which suited Hermione well. Cowards stay cowards.
xxxx
December 8, 2018
Hermione was hard pressed to stop herself from launching herself at a dapper, tuxedo-wearing Draco, but knowing how much he’d complain if it got wrinkled, she just pressed a kiss to his lips instead.
“You are hot,” she got out between kisses.
“And you are stunning. Mother will love that dress,” Draco promised, smoothing a hand down Hermione’s back until he was squeezing her bum.
“Not if you wrinkle it!” Hermione couldn’t even reprimand him properly with the smile that was on her face.
Hermione had been shocked after the woman had called Draco the night before to see if she’d come over for dinner. Draco had scoffed at his mother’s excuse about skipping the annual White House Christmas party due to concerns of the flu, but knew how much it meant to Hermione to have his parents like her. So here she was, dressed up in a little white dress that Draco had bought her during a last minute shopping trip, heading over to the Malfoys. She was close to vomiting.
“Everything will go well… mother is far more open without father around. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
Hermione smiled, “Have fun, love… please ignore Slughorn, okay?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “You act like I’m going to give him the people’s elbow in the White House.”
“I don’t even know what that is, but don’t do it.”
Draco pressed a kiss to her nose. “Of course I won’t, sugar. My methods of revenge are far more subdued.”
His phone dinged and he looked down.
“That’s your ride. Have fun with mother.”
Hermione smiled, trying to look a bit more composed than she felt. “You too.”
Unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she hopped in the Black Escalade that Draco had pick her up, Hermione focused on breathing. Draco had told her that she could bring a bottle of wine, but not dessert since Narcissa would take that as an insult… whatever that meant.
The drive all the way up to Kalorama was made even longer by Friday evening traffic, and Hermione did her best to engage her driver in conversation so that anxiety wouldn’t take the wheel.
Once they arrived, she wasn’t surprised to see that the Malfoy’s DC home was one of the prettiest buildings she’d ever seen in her life.
Knocking on the front door, a resplendent and seasonally dressed Narcissa Malfoy opened the door. She was in a silky green cocktail dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place at the White House Christmas party; Hermione felt slightly underdressed, but then again… that was something she’d have to get used to with this Family.
“Hermione, dear. Welcome!” she smiled, pulling her into a dainty hug with air kisses on both cheeks. Well… this was certainly a different tune than the first time they’d met.
“Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Malfoy,” Hermione smiled. There was a weight off her shoulders knowing that Lucius wasn’t here; he really was a dark cloud over their heads. “Wow, your home is just gorgeous!”
And she wasn’t flattering the woman, the light wood floors and white molding were absolutely stunning. Even at night, she could tell just how airy and beautiful the home was. It had to have cost millions of dollars even if they’d bought it years ago.
“Thanks, dear,” Narcissa smiled, clearly having accepted the same compliment hundreds of times in the past. “It was a labor of love, certainly, but it gave me something to do while Lucius was working and I was still making friends here in Washington.”
“It’s truly a beautiful home,” she complimented. Could home be unoffensively used to describe a 7,500 square foot space? Mansion? Manor? Castle?
Narcissa nodded, clearly agreeing. “I just fell in love with it. I’ll give you the tour after dinner and you’ll see how charming and uncitylike it is.”
Was uncitylike a feeling a house could really give off? Hermione had so much to learn from the rich southern charm the Malfoys oozed.
Hermione followed Narcissa into the kitchen, which was decorated in the same cream, white, and dark brown scheme as the foyer. She had major doubts that she could ever decorate a home as tastefully as this one, and was suddenly grateful that Draco’s homes were already so well put together. She knew her talents, and interior decorating was not one of them.
“It really is lovely, I can see why you chose it,” Hermione replied, not sure how to get the conversation from surface level to something that’d allow her to impress Draco’s mother.
“Now, I just need to finish the scallops then we’ll be ready to eat… Draco told me you enjoyed seafood. Lucius can’t stand anything other than shrimp, so I was overjoyed to have someone to indulge with me.”
Yes! This was the in she was looking for, no matter how ridiculous it was.
“I love seafood, I think I’d have my Seattleite card revoked if I didn’t.”
“Oh? Did you enjoy growing up in Seattle?” Narcissa tied an apron over her dark green dress, something that really didn’t surprise Hermione.
“I did,” she nodded. “Growing up in a large city allowed me to experience much more than other children my age, and I loved being able to meet people from all walks of life before I went off to college.”
Hermione hedged her answer a bit, not wanting to sound like a preachy liberal to the woman but also not completely erase her personality. She figured she’d be walking a tightrope with Draco’s family for a long while before she felt she could be ‘herself.’
“I enjoyed the same about Charlotte. Even more so now that the city’s population has doubled since I was your age. It’s nice, being able to experience the different festivals and events that take place through Lucius’ job.”
“What do you enjoy doing in your spare time?”
“A whole host of activities, really… I enjoy entertaining. My mother is a fantastic cook, and she has held a weekly soup kitchen at a local elementary school gymnasium since before I was born. She refuses outside help, and since my sisters aren’t living in Charlotte, I’ve taken a larger role as she’s gotten older and more people need food assistance. Oh, and I host a Bible study for wives of politicians in DC… let’s say I just keep myself busy.”
“That’s lovely! You have two sisters, I believe?”
“I do,” Narcissa turned to smile at Hermione from where she was focused on not overcooking the scallops. “Bellatrix is three years older than me, and Andromeda is two years older.”
“Wow, you three are so close! I always wished that I had siblings.”
“Life was never boring, that’s for certain,” the woman’s laugh was almost as beautiful as she was. Hermione tried not to mentally compare herself to Draco’s gorgeous mother. “Thankfully Bella and her husband live in DC, so I get to see her often.”
“That’s lovely. Where does Andromeda live?”
Narcissa didn’t turn around at that. Interesting. “She committed the most egregious of sins - she moved down to Charleston.”
Hermione wasn’t sure what to say to that. Was moving to South Carolina really that grave of a sin? Was that a joke, and was she meant to laugh? She opted for launching into another question instead, still worried she’d made an error with Draco’s mother.
“Are you able to visit her often?” Hermione really did feel like an interrogator, but how was she supposed to get into conversation when the woman was giving her matter of fact answers? What did she have in common with Narcissa Malfoy to even interject?
“Lucius’ campaign schedule kept me far too busy to visit the past few years, but she returns home to visit our parents often. If you’d like to grab the wine that’s chilling in the fridge, we can move into the dining room. I gave my housekeeping staff the night off so we’ll have to set up, but I figured it would be nice for us to get to know each other privately.”
Um. Housekeeping staff?
“Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. I’m glad we can spend time together.”
“Draco’s so protective, just like his father…” Narcissa’s smile was fond as she plated what she’d shared was parmesan risotto, winter greens and brown butter scallops onto both plates. To no one’s surprise, it looked perfect. “I’m certain he warned you about me?”
Hermione shook her head, “He’s never had anything but good things to say about you, ma’am.”
“So polite,” Narcissa shook her head. “Malfoy men are a different breed. You’ll come to find out that many of Draco’s qualities are ones that he’s inherited from his father and grandfather. Pardon my nosiness, but I’m certain he showed the Malfoy protectiveness at a party this week?”
Hermione blushed.
Narcissa laughed, “I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you that we are no fan of Horace Slughorn in this family. Truly, I’m just happy that Draco was there to remove his greasy paws from you.”
“I can’t say that I’m his biggest fan, either, not that we wanted the altercation to appear in Playbook. But I’m sure you’re grateful to have such a tight knit family.”
“Malfoy men will always ensure that lecherous men are properly dealt with, dear. Don’t you worry about that. But yes, absolutely. Having both my parents and Lucius’ nearby was a godsend when the children were little.”
Narcissa led Hermione into a meticulously well-set dining room that already had two table settings sans plates near the head of the table.
“Oh, would you like a salad, dear? I find myself getting so sick of overeating just to look polite at multi-course meals. I’ve started to cook smaller meals for Luc and I on the nights we’re home. I can whip up a quick caesar, though, if you’d like.”
Hermione laughed at that very human confession. “No, I’m fine, thank you. This looks excellent, and I have to agree… one course is more than enough in most instances.”
Narcissa smiled approvingly as she put down the plates and opened the wine that Hermione had taken out of the fridge, and Hermione wondered if they’d ever drink the wine that Draco had helped her pick out.
“Shall I pray?”
Hermione bowed her head, praying her own silent prayer. Please, God… let me leave this dinner with Narcissa’s approval. Or even the permission to call her Narcissa instead of ma’am or Mrs. Malfoy. Any little victory would be enough to give her the confidence that she and Draco could do this.
There was no faking Hermione’s reaction to her first bite. The risotto was perfectly cooked, which Hermione knew to be extremely difficult, and the scallops were as delectable as they looked on the plate. Did the woman have any flaws?
“This is delicious,” Hermione complimented after thoroughly chewing and swallowing. “I’m normally nervous when someone says they’re making risotto, but yours is impeccable.”
Narcissa laughed, “Oh, dear, you have no idea how many awful dinners you’ll have to suffer through if you and my son stay together.”
“I’m sure,” she nodded. Was that a threat or just a casual statement?
There were only a few seconds of pause for them to eat before Narcissa cut to the chase. Hermione respected it, honestly.
“Hermione, I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that I wanted to speak privately regarding Draco. My son… he’s a good man. He was always the boy who stood up for those who were being bullied and served as team captain on sports teams. And now, he’s a man who is highly-regarded in the highest echelons of our nation’s government. We always had high hopes for our son, and he’s exceeding them. That’s why we’re so concerned by your relationship… what it could mean for his hard work and reputation.”
Narcissa took a sip of wine. Hermione was surprised she didn’t chug half the glass in one go with the concern lacing her tone.
She did find it rather cute that Draco’s mom felt like she needed to sell him to her even as she was warning Hermione off of him. Whether or not Draco was a team captain on varsity soccer many moons ago… Hermione was still certain of his character. Nothing Narcissa provided would be new information on that front, no matter how much more it endeared her to him.
“Pardon me for being so direct, Hermione, but I fear that we’ll continue to dance around like a group of politicians if I don’t handle this conversation myself without the boys around. What are your intentions with Draco?”
“I appreciate your bluntness, Mrs. Malfoy. I’d rather have a difficult conversation than no conversation at all. Draco was not someone I ever expected to meet, let alone get into a serious relationship with. We both knew that the odds were against us simply based on our careers… Draco was hesitant, knowing that I’m at the start of mine and the unfortunate stigma that often follows the woman when relationships do go awry. But there was an undeniable connection from the start… We talk more than any other couple I’ve ever met, and that’s allowed us to have clarity at every point of uncertainty, even if it means staying up late to duke it out and resolve our problems.”
“I applaud your maturity, Hermione, but sometimes our desires aren’t enough. Being married to Lucius… it isn’t easy. Only a small group of men and women in America have been the spouse of a high-profile political leader, and I don’t want you to have any illusions about what’s to come. Malfoys do not get divorced and Malfoys do not live apart from the rest of our family.”
Well. That made everything crystal clear.
“I don’t intend to leave Draco, Mrs. Malfoy. And I’m certain that he would have told me if there were any uncertainties on his end at this point in his relationship. He understands your expectations of him. I ask again… please trust your son’s judgment. He would not jeopardize a relationship with you and Senator Malfoy over someone he wasn’t certain about, and I think we both know that.”
Narcissa sighed, “Oh, Hermione… I tell you this because I care. You are a sweet girl, but you remind me of someone who was sweet and uncertain and paid the price for it.”
Hermione remained quiet.
“My sister Andromeda, she met a man in Washington when she was your age and made all the wrong choices. I don’t want to see you grapple with the same decisions she made.”
“I can’t say I know what you’re speaking of, Mrs. Malfoy, but I promise that I am confident in how I feel about Draco. And I’m certain he feels the same. I would be lying if I said that we could prepare ourselves for how the public is going to react, but we will weather whatever comes together.”
Narcissa’s smile was surprisingly watery, and she reached a hand out to grasp Hermione’s own.
“What about your goals? You’re a smart, beautiful young woman… so very young,” she murmured.
“I can’t say I’m one hundred percent certain, honestly. There are many domestic issues that I’m passionate about… access to education, student loans, criminal justice being top of the list. But I know that the Hill is the best way to hone my interests and turn them into a career.”
“You do understand that your current position will almost certainly be terminated when the public finds out, don’t you? You are more than just a person; you’re someone whose life and actions are directly tied to the opinion of James Potter. The moment staff start to be the story is when elected officials have to make decisions for themselves, no matter how tough they are.”
Ouch.
She took a deep breath, trying not to lose it on Narcissa.
“Telling me that I can have a career or my relationship with Draco is a false choice. Respectfully, we haven’t even seen what the public reaction is yet, Mrs. Malfoy.
“I’m going to talk to Congressman Potter; Draco is going to talk to him as well. We aren’t acting underfoot, we are doing everything above board and facing it like adults. And anyway, until marriage, there are no ethics rules against dating a Member of Congress, so long as they’re not your employer.”
Narcissa shook her head, a pitying smile on her face. Hermione loathed the expression and fought her stiffening spine.
“The power of public judgment is far more salient to a Member of Congress than keeping on a single staffer, no matter how hardworking they are.”
“Then I’ll start to think about my path once off the Hill.”
“Before you do that, I ask that you seriously think about whether or not you’re willing to give up being a traditional career woman for a man. I am certainly biased when it comes to my son’s desirability as a husband, but he is still a man, and your options will be limited because of him.”
“I have, and I will continue to think it through,” Hermione smiled weakly. There really was a lot to think about… staking her whole life on one man? No matter how right it felt, it was everything that young girls were warned against doing.
“I’m blessed to say that my first love will be my only love. But I have come to terms with the fact that being with a man like Lucius means that the dreams I had for my life often play second fiddle to his. This is not Biblical submission - this is the reality of being a political spouse. Everyone tells you that compromise is the basis of a strong relationship, but you must know that whoever said that did not have a husband with the last name Malfoy. Sometimes there is no compromise, there is only nodding and going along with what your husband needs to do to win a race.”
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat, “I hear what you’re saying, Mrs. Malfoy, but both of us know that I don’t fully understand because I haven’t lived it yet. I can tell you that I want to understand your experience, though. I appreciate your honesty, and I hope that you can appreciate mine as well.”
“What do you like about my son?”
That was easy. Hermione wasn’t often one for dramatics, but she could tell that Narcissa was expecting honesty and passion, and she would try her best to deliver.
“Has Draco told you about the first time we met?”
“No, he hasn’t.”
So Hermione told her every embarrassing detail about the oafish Marcus Flint yelling at her and Draco defending her honor. She even shared the details that she’d received almost a year later from Draco; that he wished he’d done more in the moment or followed after her or checked in later.
Narcissa’s eyes were wet again and a small smile appeared on her face.
“My boy is good and he is great, there’s no doubting that… I just hoped that everyone else would have a chance to see the same. This has the power to ruin him...”
‘You have the power to ruin him’ was left unsaid, but they both knew it was there. Both women felt the pain of that omission in different ways.
“They will, Mrs. Malfoy. We’re in a consensual relationship. We are adults. Stories break and then they fade; this will not define Draco or Senator Malfoy’s bid for higher office. I understand the stakes of a presidential campaign, and though I don’t land on the same side as Senator Malfoy and Draco on many issues, I’m not going to serve as a distraction or an adversary as they run their races.”
“You do understand that, God willing, Lucius becoming president opens up his Senate seat for a gubernatorial appointment? That whoever is chosen by the governor won’t have to run again until 2024 when the seat is up for election again?”
“I do,” Hermione nodded. “Draco and I have discussed the possibility. He is more than prepared to serve in the Senate, and I’m not going to stand in his way. We both have dreams, and I’m not naive enough to believe they won’t clash at some points… but I believe that we’re worth it, and I’m willing to fight for us.”
“Most days will feel like a fight, dear,” Narcissa nodded, a tear falling down her left cheek. “The arena of public opinion is one that will have you feeling more like a prized fighter than a spectator. You’ll have strangers hurling the nastiest of accusations both at you and the man you love, and you’ll be required to stand there and say nothing with a gracious smile and oftentimes a glob of spit on your cheek.”
“That seems like a rather powerless position to be in,” Hermione sympathized. It was weird, to think that soon she might be empathizing with Narcissa’s sentiments and pain.
“It’s my reality… one that I have grown to armor myself against, and I’ll be here to help you do the same if you and Draco remain together. Malfoys and Blacks do not undermine one another. We are strong because we are united. That will never change, no matter who is brought into the family. My husband… he is aloof because he has seen the consequences of trusting the wrong person before. When his children are involved, his instincts are only more pronounced. We’re trying… we are trying.”
“I understand, Mrs. Malfoy-”
The blonde held up a well-manicured hand. “Call me Narcissa, dear.”
Hermione smiled shyly, losing her train of thought. She’d done it.
xxx
“I’d think you had a crush on my mama if I didn’t know any better,” Draco teased.
Hermione had climbed on top of him the moment he’d laid down in bed, splaying her body over his like an awkward octopus.
“She texted me that she enjoyed our time together and would love to get our nails done together in the new year.”
“I’m happy for you, sweetheart. I told you that she’d love you.”
She nuzzled her head against Draco’s toned and naked chest. Now that they were intimate, he’d started sleeping in only his boxer shorts, something she would never understand. Didn’t he get cold?
“I’m just happy and worried and scared… part of us making it through the next few months is knowing that we have people in our corner ready to defend us and fight at our sides. Tonight I feel more confident that your parents will be with us, but more aware of everything that lies ahead. The challenges… the reasons so many people don’t make it past a few months in a public-facing relationship.”
“My parents were never against us; they were dubious and a bit shocked. I mean… pretty thing like you with an old man like me can only mean a few things to most people.”
“You mean that I’m a gold digger or you’re an old lecher?”
“Exactly.”
“So we’ll just prove everyone wrong,” Hermione smiled, tone a lot more optimistic than she felt.
Draco kissed her temple, running a large hand upon and down her back.
“We’ll prove everyone wrong,” he agreed. “It won’t be easy, but we need to be honest with one another with what we’re feeling.”
“You’re right. I’m a bit scared… your mom makes it seem like she gave up a lot to be with your dad.”
“It’s a bit different than our situation, she was pregnant before even leaving high school. She didn’t have a chance to find out what her life could look like without being by his side. You, though? The times are different. You can be both by my side and a career woman. Look at Hillary Clinton or even Severus. Being a spouse doesn’t mean a death sentence to your ambitions.”
“It’s just weird to think about… your mom made me nervous over what James is going to say.”
“If it makes you feel better, we can talk to him together when the time comes?”
Hermione nodded, pressing a kiss to Draco’s neck. “Please.”
“Anything you want, sweetheart.”
She just smiled sadly, knowing that Draco would be more frustrated and distraught than she was when he came to terms with the fact that his offer of the world on a platter was a mere fantasy.
“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed when she was half asleep on his chest. “Your mom… she said something very ominous about her sister making all the wrong choices. What did she mean?”
Draco sighed. “I’m surprised she even brought that up vaguely. This doesn’t leave us, hm?”
“Of course.”
“It’s really messed up, Hermione…”
“I’m going to find out sooner or later, aren’t I? Take your time,” she soothed, patting his flank with her hand as she moved to sit up so she could see his face.
“My Aunt Andromeda… she’s always been a bit of a rabble rouser. She was never willing to campaign with father, which wasn’t a problem, but she made it one... she lambasted Aunt Bella when she started working for the NRA… she never wanted to be a part of the Black family or even stand adjacent to the Malfoy family. So she took a summer internship on the Hill for a Dem the summer before her senior year of college.
“Her parents were resigned to their fate at that point and let her just do what she wanted. They thought she’d get it out of her system and see that progressive politics weren’t the idealistic dreamland of free college and universal health care that people like Dumbledore paint it to be. But she returned home pregnant and alone. Turns out she’d been sleeping with an older lobbyist who was wholly unsuitable.”
“That’s awful,” Hermione frowned, looking down at Draco and realizing after a quick calculation that Andromeda’s son was nowhere near old enough to fit into this timeline. “What does wholly unsuitable even mean? It sounds like something out of the regency era.”
Draco sighed, running a hand over his face. “He was far too old and poor. He worked as a lobbyist for some hippie extremist group and actually died in a car crash before the baby was even born.”
“And the baby?” Hermione really wanted to ask if his grandparents had put a hit out on the man, but knew that Draco would be offended. She didn’t think there would ever be a point in their relationship that she could ask that without him taking offense, which was frustrating. It was something to keep in mind for later; grandparents were potentially murderers.
“Up for adoption… grandfather Black kept tabs on everything, and the child was happy and loved. He wouldn’t have allowed them to go to a home that wasn’t acceptable.”
Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. “So you have a cousin that you don’t even know about.”
Draco shook his head. “I’ve come to terms with it, despite whatever feelings I have about the shadiness and callousness of it all. It’ll go to the grave, as many secrets in this town do.”
“Oh, Draco…” Hermione’s eyes filled with tears against her will. “That’s really sad.”
“That’s not going to happen to us sweetheart,” Draco promised, moving to sit up further so he could brush Hermione’s tears away. “I’d never let anyone keep you away from me.
“I know it’s not! But your poor aunt… and her poor child. Is it a girl or boy?”
Draco looked uncertain. “I can’t say more right now, Hermione. And if it makes you feel better, it’s not her child by any means but blood. This is the one topic that my mother goes ballistic over, so I have to ask that you don’t bring it up again. I’m surprised she mentioned it in the first place.”
Hermione nodded, tamping down her urge to fight back and receive the information immediately. It was hard to do, but she knew that she didn’t have a stake in this battle yet.
“Okay.”
Sleep did not come easily that night.