Chapter 15
January 29, 2019
Everything was going well, unless you factored in the crippling anxiety and paranoia that had Hermione overthinking absolutely everything that came out of her office mates’ mouths over the past three weeks.
Her already-militant perfectionist tendencies had become even sharper, not that she had known that was possible.
She had spent Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, the first federal holiday of the year, working while her fellow Hill staffers were at the bar or sleeping the day away. It had gotten to the point where she was at the office even later than Remus or James, both men a bit awkward as they asked her if she planned on leaving anytime soon. They clearly felt a bit weird having private conversations with her now, something that only spurred on her workaholic tendencies in her quest to prove herself.
That led to today, four days before Lucius’ announcement, when Hermione was finally at her wit’s end.
Draco was annoyed that the only time he now saw her was when she showed up at 9pm and was so exhausted from a 12-hour work day that she fell asleep on the couch. Pansy was annoyed that she was only ever home to get clothes and didn’t respond to texts. And Hermione was even annoyed with herself for not doing more to for not doing more to prove that she was an exemplary employee before shit had hit the fan.
There was a level of panic that came with being a Hill staffer, even when you didn’t have a Congressman from the opposing party as your boyfriend. Hermione had swapped stories with Cho and Mandy about waking up at 2am in a cold sweat wondering whether or not they signed their name instead of their boss’ on a card they’d sent out for their Congresspeople or struggling to remember if they’d replied to an email from a lobbyist or forgotten to add a e-calendar invite for a meeting that they scheduled with a local interest group.
There was a lot of pressure that came with being a liaison for a Member of Congress, and if Hermione thought that being a staff assistant was a lot of pressure, that came nowhere near the stress of taking on a legislative portfolio. When anxiety over eventual public reaction to her relationship with Draco and fears of losing her job were factored in, she was close to cracking under the pressure of everything on her plate.
A knock on the glass panel that masqueraded as a wall around her cubicle shocked Hermione out of reading a PDF on proposed changes to veterans’ health coverage by the Senate’s Veterans’ Affairs Committee. She had been zoned in while reading the dense text and taking copious notes, so the intrusion had her skidding her pen across the paper. Exactly what she needed.
“Hermione,” Dorcas greeted, with the same untelling expression as always on her face.
The woman was someone that Hermione had gotten to know a bit better over the past few months, but she was rather to herself and focused on her work, which she could appreciate. Now that she was Legislative Director after Frank moved over to the committee, though, Hermione had a lot of facetime with her.
“Hi Dorcas,” Hermione smiled, turning around in her desk chair so she could fully face the brunette. The woman’s bland expression unnerved her.
“I just got a message from Nick Flamel with the Seattle Housing Authority wondering if he’d had your email address wrong. He said he hasn’t heard back from you about scheduling a meeting on their visit to DC in two weeks.”
Hermione’s stomach sank at being called out for a perceived error, but her shame was only intensified at knowing everyone else in the back office could hear the conversation.
“Of course, he messaged me an hour ago. I was checking in with Penelope to see if Congressman Potter could join the meeting before I respond,” Hermione replied, doing her best to remain calm.
Professionality was a definite work in progress; her initial reaction was always going to be getting flustered, so it took a lot of self control not to shove her computer monitor in the woman’s face to show that Nick Flamel was being a total ass by reaching out 53 minutes after sending his initial email.
Dorcas didn’t seem too impressed by that answer, and Penelope was on another call, so she couldn’t even jump into Hermione’s defense.
“They’re important; if word got back to James that we weren’t replying to them, he’d be upset. Just try to be responsive with constituent groups, okay? They’re priority number one.”
“I will,” Hermione replied, swallowing down the defensive word vomit that so wanted to spew out. How was she supposed to reply to Nick when she didn’t even know when James could join them, which was the only question in the email she’d received.
The newly minted legislative director walked back to her desk and left Hermione wanting to simultaneously cry and walk back to Dorcas’ desk and explain through blubbering tears that none of this was her fault.
But she just put her head down, got a confirmation from Penelope that James could meet with the group, and worked straight through lunch as though it was penance for the error she’d made. Only, she wasn’t even sure if Dorcas noticed that she didn’t take a break.
Someone else did, however. Hermione saw the flashing notification of a gchat, Google’s instant messaging service that she and her colleagues used. It was an adult’s AIM chat.
Tonks: Ayo.
Hermione: Hey Tonks - you okay?
Tonks: Never. Dunkin in 10?
Hermione: Give me 20 and I’ll meet you in the hallway.
Tonks: Gorg, see you then!
Hermione was uncertain, but intrigued about why Tonks wanted to grab coffee. Normally she’d pop over and ask Hermione in person, but this felt more secretive.
Tonks walked out first, which shocked Hermione into realizing that 20 minutes had already gone by.
She left her desk somewhat uncertainly before Draco’s exasperated voice sounded in her head, promising that the world wasn’t going to end when she took a moment to sip water or use the restroom. His snark was an unappreciated dose of reality.
“Yo,” Tonks smiled, and Hermione shot her spunky coworker a smile back. Tonks was wearing a bright purple blazer with a leather skirt, looking far more like a 90s movie star than a communications director for a senior Member of Congress. It was purely Tonks, and not even Hermione, the prim rule-following staffer she was, could knock her for it.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, cutting right to the chase.
“Oh, I’m fine. The question is what’s wrong with you,” Tonks replied with an ostentatious wink.
“Hello there, young lady,” an old man interjected, causing both Tonks and Hermione to look over at him. The hallway was full of visiting groups and lobbyists milling about, so it was easy for them to ignore him and just keep walking.
“I think he thought I was winking at him,” the older woman snorted, causing Hermione to let out a peal of laughter that echoed through the hallway and sent more startled looks their way.
“Why are men like this,” Hermione shook her head.
“If I ever find an answer to that I’ll tell you,” Tonks sighed before her eyes lit up. “Back to it! I feel a bit protective of you, Hermione, so I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice. You need to slow down or you’re going to burn out. You’ve been skipping lunch, and there hasn’t been a day that you’ve showed up after me or left before me this week. Have you even been going to your church group?”
Hermione had the decency to blush at the duly-deserved callout. Tonks’ tone was gentle enough that she didn’t bristle at her harsh words.
“No… You of all people have to understand how much there is to deal with right now. Everything else is on hold until I figure my new role out.”
“That’s not how life works! James and Remus aren’t giving up their personal lives to make sure everything at work is perfect, so you shouldn’t either. You get paid nowhere near enough to do that.”
Hermione was on board with Tonks’ intervention until this comment.
“Tonks, I am so replaceable,” she replied in a tone that was close to scathing. “James is the principal and Remus has worked for him long enough that no one will question him taking time for himself. I need to pay my dues, and that means putting aside my personal interests to get work done.”
“Getting work done and working just to look like you’re working are two completely different things. I’m not going to attribute one or the other to what you’re doing, but I just want to have a conversation that I think sometimes people are too scared to have on the Hill. Working yourself to death isn’t impressing anyone; it’s a quiet, solitary death. No one is going to applaud you for it.”
Ouch.
“I appreciate you being honest with me,” Hermione smiled a brittle little smile, knowing that sometimes the best thing to say was nothing at all.
Tonks laughed a surprisingly loud laugh at that. “No you don’t, but hopefully you do by the time you’re a washed up old Hill rat like me.”
Hermione giggled, “You’re not washed up.”
“You will be if you don’t take some time and rest,” Tonks warned. “Now, what do you want? Drinks on me.”
“Hot chocolate, please.”
Tonks stuck out her surprisingly pink tongue at that. “Really? Of all the awful drinks at Dunkin, the hot chocolate is the worst.”
“I find it’s the only thing that is palatable,” Hermione shrugged.
They walked up to the two self checkout kiosks that were set to the side of the large room, a well-hidden secret if the long, winding line of lobbyists and tourists waiting for coffee was anything to go by.
There were only two people in front of them, which was a much better alternative than the 30-person long line.
“Hermione?” a voice asked just moments after they’d gotten up to one of the touch screens.
She whirled around and was pleased to see a familiar face, though deep down she’d wished it was Draco. Not that he’d ever be caught dead in the basement Dunkin Donuts.
“Percy! Hi!” she beamed, a slight feeling of guilt rushing through her at realizing she’d been putting her first mentor off every time he asked to get together.
“How are you?” he was gazing at her as warmly as Percy Weasley could, fixing his dark blue tie that perfectly matched his dark blue suit. Was that level of monochrome even fashionable?
“Oh, I’m great! I got promoted, as you know, so I’ve just been busy trying to figure out the new role.”
“I’m sure you’re excellent,” he nodded seriously. “We should really get together, there’s so much to discuss...”
Was there? What on earth could Percy have to discuss with her?
“Of course, sorry for being so unresponsive,” she frowned. “It’s been a rough few weeks.”
She was more shocked than anyone when he patted her on the shoulder in a weirdly paternal way.
“I understand, Hermione. Just shoot me a text and we can grab coffee this weekend.”
“Ready?” Tonks turned around as she shoved her credit card into the pouch on the back of one of her cell phones.
“Oh! Tonks, this is my friend, Percy Weasley. Percy, this is Congressman Potter’s communications director, Tonks.”
“Nice to meet ya, Percy,” the woman smiled fondly, clearly noticing the way the redhead’s eyes roved over her ice blue tipped hair in clear judgement.
“You as well,” he nodded, his southern accent coming out as he adopted a completely unnecessary formal tone. “I’ll let you ladies go, see you soon, Hermione.”
She waved goodbye, and Tonks had the decency to wait until they were up at the coffee counter to speak.
“Who is that hunky carrot top?” she asked in a far quieter voice than Hermione thought possible.
“Oh, no!” Hermione shook her head, trying not to gag as she thought about marrying any member of the Weasley brood. “He’s not… unless you’re interested?”
“Hell no,” Tonks shook her head. “That’s a grown-ass man wearing his ID on a lanyard around his neck. I’m not about that life.”
Hermione laughed loudly, drawing a few annoyed stares their way.
“He’s a good person,” she defended before glancing off in the distance. “And he’s coming this way.”
“Thankfully our drinks are ready, then,” Tonks winked, grabbing their drinks before their order number was called out and guiding them on the long way back to the office simply so she didn’t have to engage in a second conversation with Percy.
Hermione felt a bit bad at dodging her first friend on the Hill, but was relieved to have someone in her corner from Rep. Potter’s office. She could only hope that that wouldn’t change once she and Draco were public knowledge.
xxx
February 2, 2019
Pansy had delighted in ordering a ridiculous amount of food and even more hard liquor for Lucius Malfoy’s primetime rally where he was finally announcing his run for president. The three major cable networks were running the speech, something that shocked Hermione even though it shouldn’t have. Lucius was the Republican frontrunner; she knew it, and the higher ups in the media did too. The rally also gave them something to talk about on an otherwise slow Saturday night.
“Here you are,” Pansy said, handing Hermione a ridiculously large, salt-rimmed glass that definitely was new. They did not own 64 oz. margarita glasses.
“What is it?” Hermione asked, taking a tentative sip. She shouldn’t have been surprised at how good it was.
“A Malfoy margarita,” Pansy smirked, clinking her glass against Hermione’s and almost spilling some of the concoction onto the tile floors.
“That’s tacky, Pans,” Hermione frowned.
“I’m an American, I’m entitled to tackiness at one point in my life,” Pansy shrugged. “Anyways, we have a good reason to get shit faced, and wine isn’t going to do the job quickly. This will.”
“Cheers to that,” Hermione muttered. Draco hadn’t texted her back in twenty minutes; she knew he was going on stage to introduce his father. The program was already running late, which wasn’t surprising, but it still made her nervous.
“Oh!” Pansy shrieked, spilling her drink all over the floor as she rushed to turn on the volume.
The large TV was now showing a devastatingly handsome Draco behind a podium, dressed in tightly fitting jeans and a grey winter jacket, framed by a background of American flags.
Lucius would soon be giving his speech in Freedom Park in Charlotte to a crowd of what Twitter estimated to be 35,000 people, which was about ten thousand more than what Draco had expected. She couldn’t even imagine how thrilled Lucius the attention-seeker was.
“He looks hot,” Pansy offered.
Hermione just rolled her eyes, “You’re just now noticing?”
“Blond and middle-aged isn’t my type.”
“40 is the new 30.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Pansy replied darkly. “Now, shut up! You’re the one who asked me to stay in to watch this.”
Draco’s speech was a son’s introduction of his father, filled with childhood anecdotes and lessons he’d learned from his father about duty, service, and country. He was perfectly enthusiastic, fawning and articulate, not that Hermione was surprised. He’d practiced it at least a million times for her, not to mention the times he’d had Blaise over to critique him or driven up to his parents’ home to practice with Tom and Severus. She’d not seen the men since the disastrous dinner, much to her relief. Draco could handle them himself for a bit.
Hermione’s stomach clenched as the crowd roared and Lucius walked out, pulling his son into a warm hug. She was certain that everyone could see just how close the pair was; that sort of affection wasn’t easily faked, and it was part of the Malfoy charm. An attractive, successful, tight knit family; they really were the American dream, if a wealthy dynasty was what you were reaching for.
“Here we go,” Hermione muttered, feeling much more nervous now that Lucius was up to bat.
As the elder Malfoy took command of the stage, his eyes were gleaming with a warmth that Hermione had only ever seen when he looked at his wife. In that moment, it all came crashing down on her.
Her boyfriend’s father was running for president, and she was going to be found out.
People from every corner of the country, spectators of every color and creed and ideology, would be judging her simply because of who she was dating.
She took a large gulp, and Pansy immediately took the pitcher of margaritas and dribbled more into Hermione’s nearly full glass. Clearly, her friend was determined to take them both down the unforgiving path towards blacking out. However, as Lucius got into the crux of his speech, she felt a bit more sympathetic to Pansy’s thinking.
“Our representative government is the most humbling, longstanding experiment in trust that this world has ever seen. From the time I could walk, I remember watching my father serve the people the great State of North Carolina. I learned the merits of public service on his knee.
“And now, as the senior Senator from the state I love, I have the distinct honor to meet with the brave men and women who lay down their lives to defend our country at home and abroad, the single mother of three who’s trying to make ends meet, and the factory worker who has long felt left behind by those we send to Washington to vote on the issues that matter to the American people.
“It’s no news to many of you that the Democrats have left those they claim to represent behind. We have lived through eight years of President Kingsley Shacklebolt, a man who has raised taxes on working families and sent health care premiums sky high in the left’s quest for socialized medicine. It’s time that we have a president who cares more about middle-class families and their concerns instead of constantly putting words in their mouth.
“I would apologize for getting political, but I see enough familiar faces in this crowd to know you all expect it by now.”
Hermione was surprised at the loud laughter. Lucius was… the opposite of funny, yet he’d somehow secured a laugh line.
“Under Democratic rule, the American dream is out of reach. They raise your taxes and sign bureaucratic, regulatory nonsense into law that makes it harder for you to do your jobs, and then wonder why small businesses have stagnated. It’s time that we put the power of the purse back into the hands of the American people, not those at the top of the food chain, and certainly not into the hands of the government.
“It’s time that we elect a president who doesn’t wield the power of the executive order like an all-too-powerful magic wand that can simply poof a new law into existence when the Senate doesn’t pass legislation taken up in the House. Last I checked, we are guided by the Constitution, not the whims of the president!
“President Shacklebolt and Speaker Dumbledore say that they head up the party of the people; last I checked, Democrats are taking away power from you and your local government everytime they pass unconstitutional, sweeping legislation and executive orders. Our Founding Fathers did not create the federal government as a vessel to send the most power-hungry and well-connected Americans to Washington, yet that’s what the system currently serves as.
“There are some on the left who will be angry when I share this next fact with y’all, if you can believe it: America is the greatest nation in the world.”
Pansy let out a loud snort and chugged almost half of her glass down.
“Fuck me,” she groaned.
Hermione felt a bit numb as the large crowd stomped and screamed at Lucius’ obvious statement. It was a Republican talking point as old as time. It would be sacrilegious for him NOT to tout American exceptionalism in his speech.
“America has long been the land of opportunity. A place where someone can come with a dream and spare change and pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Where small businesses thrive. Where we are proud to salute our flag and honor the brave men and women who sacrificed their lives to defend it. Where we can send our children to school and know they’re receiving a world-class education. Where we worship our God and have faith that tomorrow will be better and more prosperous.
“America is more than just another place on the map; the United States of America is the most powerful, free, God-fearing country in the world. The United States of America, despite its current leadership, is not without hope. With faith in God and a returned adherence to our Constitution, the United States will always find its way.
“I love this country, and in front of my God, my family and my beloved neighbors from the great State of North Carolina, I am proud to announce that I’m running to be the next President of the United States.”
Even through the TV, Hermione could hear how boisterous the crowd had gotten at Lucius’ official announcement.
And so it began.
“So?” Pansy asked, her voice a bit gentler than Hermione had expected.
She shrugged; for someone who always had the answer, she was at a loss right now.
“What he said is not surprising. It’s just… I’ll never be able to get behind him fully,” she admitted. It felt almost… traitorous to admit it aloud. She’d not even told Draco that, although he surely suspected it.
“Can of worms,” Pansy said before miming like she was throwing away the lid of a can. “What can’t you get behind? More than that… how are you and Draco together if you aren’t able to jibe with the lukewarm shit that Lucius just said? That speech was like… Republican-lite. We didn’t even get to God or gays or guns. Or immigration. Or unborn babies. So many unborn babies to discuss.”
“I know. Believe me, Pans,” Hermione sniped back, feeling a bit guilty at her frustrated tone. None of this was Pansy’s fault. “I can’t get behind the idea that less regulation in the marketplace will increase wealth for low and middle-income people. We’ve tried that; trickdown is bullshit. There’s literally decades of economic data proving it doesn’t work.”
“And?” Pansy asked, mouth full of margarita.
“And the idea that EOs are unconstitutional is also the drivel of whatever party isn’t in power. If he’s elected, there’s no way he’s going to just not use executive orders. If one party controls each chamber of Congress, you basically have to use them or you’ll never get anything done.”
“So none of these issues seem like immediate problems. What about the first time he bashes the gays? Or talks about loosening gun regulations?”
“He’s not going to bash the gays,” Hermione shook her head. “The Supreme Court has spoken, it’s the law of the land, etcetera. That’s squared away, lucky for him and Tom.”
“I mean… Lucius still doesn’t believe gays should be married. It’s not like Roe v. Wade had them throwing their hands up and saying abortion was fine since nine old people said so.”
“I know that, Pansy. But it’s not like abortion which doesn’t impact him personally, but rallies his base. And, for the record, gay marriage isn’t an issue that sends voters to the polls. And, his only friends from what I can tell, at least, are gay. No one’s going to push when the Senate Whip is gay. No one.”
“We’ll see. Okay, back to what actually matters. You’re not marrying Lucius, lucky for you. What issues have you and Draco fought over?”
“Guns… that’s one of the only areas Draco and I have fought, actually. We can pretend like tax policy and foreign policy don’t exist for the most part.”
“Why?”
Hermione ran a hand through her tangled curls. “I mean, he believes in background checks, but won’t pass universal background check legislation because he believes states aren’t complying with the system we already have. He doesn’t want to ban assault weapons because the federal government doesn’t have a right to decide what people can and can’t purchase, whatever that means, even though we’ve had a federal assault weapons ban before.”
“So what are you going to do the first time he locks a gun up at your house?”
“Pans, he has a ton of guns in North Carolina and two in DC. He keeps them in his bedside drawer and claims that’s why he sleeps closest to the door, in case he needs to protect me.”
She shrugged, “That’s kinda hot, sis. He wants to protect you.”
“I wouldn’t need protection if we got guns off the street and had more fervent checks!”
“So it could be worse,” Pansy clarified.
“I mean, we have only skimmed the surface, but on issues I’d kill and die for… it could be worse.”
“I would kill and die for nothing,” Pansy shook her head before cocking it to the left. “Well… I would probably kill a bitch for a Himalaya Birkin bag.”
“That’s sad.”
Pansy just shrugged, “Hopefully marrying rich will give you some taste.”
“Not marrying him.”
“Yet.”
They’d had this conversation far too many times over the past few weeks.
Hermione took a sip of her drink, shocked to see she’d almost finished it at this point.
“Let’s check Twitter, hopefully it’ll make this star spangled speech a little more interesting,” Pansy said, checking the app with squinted eyes and letting out a laugh. “Yep.”
“Show me!” Hermione asked, crawling over on the couch to look over Pansy’s shoulder. Honestly, she wished she hadn’t.
@LeslieB6901: The Malfoys are definitely soul-sucking demons if they have me thinking I could vote for a Republican for the first time just to have a president who’s that sexy.
@MelHatesYou: If Draco Malfoy is not gay… he’s definitely a murderer. No one that hot is single at 40.
@PatrickManto: Draco Malfoy is definitely gay. Look at that smile. Those legs. That hair. Would die for him.
@JillyBean: @PatrickManto … your profile has a pride flag and says you’re nonbinary. You know he AND his father hate you and vote against your interests every day? Being attractive doesn’t give you the right to be a monster.
“Nope,” Hermione shook her head, scooting back to the other side of the couch. “I’m done reading those. How’d you even find them?”
“Search the word Malfoy and they all show up. Better get used to searching your own name on here and setting up a Google alert, sis. It’s important to know what the masses are saying.”
“I hardly think that the people of Twitter constitute the masses.”
Pansy shrugged, “They’re the most engaged population, and the press runs with clickbaity articles from Twitter fodder. It’s the easiest way to fill a newscycle.”
“That’s ridiculous-”
Pansy held up a hand, “I’m not saying it’s fair or hard-hitting journalism, I’m just telling you what’s what. Get used to it.”
“Well, we missed the whole family coming out together,” Hermione frowned, watching as the channel returned to a reporter. She could see the Malfoys on stage in the blurred background, and knew she needed to text Draco. He’d think she missed his speech if he didn’t have a message by the time he checked his phone.
Hermione: You looked good. Your speech was perfect… maybe even better than your practice rounds. How do you feel?
She cleaned up, feeling a bit drunk, but knowing how long it would take Draco to finish up with the media and text her back. It was better to have a clean house in the morning than wake up and have to do all of the work while Pansy whined about her hangover.
Pansy was asleep on the couch by the time Draco replied.
Draco: Thank you, sweetheart. I miss you.
Hermione was glad no one, namely her roommate, was around to hear her girly giggle at his earnest text. The straightforwardness of Draco, or perhaps just older men in general, always had her a bit tingly.
Hermione: I miss you more, but you didn’t answer my question! How is it going? I have images of blinding camera flashes and mobbing reporters in my head.
Draco: Sounds about right. Father’s security detail is driving us home now, trying to get used to the fact that this is life now.
As Senate Majority Leader, Lucius was assigned a security detail that was only increased now that he was running for president.
Hermione: You won’t need security here, love. Just come back to me and I’ll help you feel normal. Clean up the dishes, do my laundry, etc.
Draco: Not sure that’s what I’ve had in mind for next week, baby.
Hermione: Oh?
Draco: Leave Thursday night open.
Draco: I’ll call you tomorrow. Being pulled into a riveting discussion on the merits of early campaigning in Nebraska’s second district. I love you, sweetheart.
Hermione: Prayers coming your way. Goodnight :) xox
She’d gotten to a point of feeling comfortable with texting hugs and kisses, which felt both a bit juvenile and like a major step in their relationship. She loved Draco, she did. But telling him in the middle of a post-blowout discussion had felt like relenting. Like she would’ve been the human version of a controlled avalanche; standing strong and then just toppling down at the slightest pressure.
Maybe it was tacky, but she had been hoping to spend Valentine’s day with Draco. The stars hadn’t aligned, though, and Congress had a District Work Period that entire week, so Draco would be home in Charlotte attending community forums and would likely fly to Iowa to join his father on the campaign trail that weekend.
Perhaps it was because she was so young and inexperienced, but the thought of spending their first Valentine’s Day in a relationship apart had her mopey. Hermione Granger did not mope; she honestly also didn’t romanticize about men sweeping her off her feet. Not until now, at least… She would’ve loved to see how Draco would have treated her on Valentine’s Day, but now, that was a thought she’d keep to herself. He had enough to deal with, and she wouldn’t add her sadness about spending a commercialized holiday apart to his plate.
But, the stubborn, hopeful part of her brain thought, maybe he’d send her flowers. She’d keep that buried deeply; it was better for her hopes to be dashed in front of an audience of one.
xxx
February 7, 2019
Draco was in an extremely chipper mood, and it had Hermione feeling giddy.
“I hate surprises,” she groaned, unable to hide her small smile as Draco blasted Pop2K on Sirius XM. ‘SexyBack’ by Justin Timberlake was playing, and Hermione was certain she was one of the only people who would not be shocked to discover that Draco knew all of the words. And, she thought derisively, he had a great voice. Was there anything he couldn’t do?
“You sure do listen to instructions well for someone who hates surprises,” Draco observed, taking a hand off the wheel and rubbing it on her thigh.
She was dressed in a white, caped sheath dress that Draco had begged her to try on during their Christmas shopping trip, and much to her surprise, she fell in love with it. The fabric was tight on her body, and the ruching made her slim hips look as close to an hourglass silhouette as they ever would. He’d asked her to wear the dress on a FaceTime call the night before in the deep, commanding voice that always made her wet, and she was helpless but to obey.
“It’s the voice,” she muttered.
“Hm?” Draco asked, eyes on the road in front of him.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me,” he prompted, gently squeezing her thigh.
“Your voice…” she started, turning bright red as her throat dried up in embarrassment.
“You like when I tell you what to do,” Draco nodded, like he’d figured her out before she’d even had a chance to examine her own self. “That works out well because I like when you’re my good girl. You listen so well.”
She shifted in her heated leather seat, letting out a little whimper. How did he make those words sound so hot? When any other man called her a ‘good girl’ she readied herself to fight the patriarchy, but when Draco said it… She just wanted to roll over and have him ravish her.
Draco took pity on her and spoke again, but Hermione could tell by his smile that he was clearly amused at how speechless he could leave her with just a phrase. He truly was the worst sometimes.
“My sweet girl... Are you hungry?”
She shook the fog out of her head and nodded.
“Very hungry. Are you going to tell me what we’re eating?”
His laugh was loud. “Not on your life.”
She found out a few minutes later when they pulled up to a cozy side street in Georgetown where a few young men were waiting at a valet stand. Her door was opened by one of them, and she was careful not to twist an ankle as she hopped out of Draco’s car, however low to the ground it was.
“Is this the Italian restaurant you love?” she asked as Draco walked around the car. He’d slipped the valet a bill that she assumed was far more than someone deserved for parking the car, but it warmed her heart nonetheless. Draco was a good man.
“It is,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist as one of the handsomely paid valets scurried to open the restaurant’s heavy door. “Careful… don’t fall down the stairs.”
Hermione laughed a bit, but also kept an eye on the wooden stairs as they walked down them. Her heels were loud, but thankfully there was enough of a crowd in the foyer at the bottom of them that only she and Draco could hear the way she’d clunked down the steps.
“Congressman Malfoy!” an older woman smiled as they stepped up to the host stand that was more of a desk than a dinky piece of would.
“Mira,” he replied with a grin of his own, pressing a kiss to the woman’s cheeks as she moved towards him.
“And who is this bella donna, my Draco?” she asked with an approving up and down look at Hermione.
“This is Hermione,” Draco smiled softly, rewrapping his arm around her waist despite the crowd of people waiting for their tables.
“Welcome, Hermione,” Mira smiled. Her wrinkled face was kind, and she had a light accent. Hermione put her money on the woman owning the restaurant.
“Thank you, ma’am,” she replied kindly.
“None of that,” the woman shook her head. “Just Mira. Follow me, let’s get you fed… You’re peaky as always, my boy.”
Hermione laughed at that, getting a squeeze on her hip from Draco as he rolled his eyes.
“You can fatten me up tonight, Mira,” he replied.
“I’m counting on that. Here you are, your father’s favorite booth!”
“Hidden away in the corner, where no one can bug him,” Draco finished, drawing a giggle from Hermione.
“Exactly,” Mira winked. “I’ll be over soon to make sure you’re okay.”
“I love this,” Hermione said once they were alone, trying not to grin like a fool.
The restaurant was completely decked out in reds and pinks and whites, with hearts and cupids everywhere that the eye could see. It was like Cupid himself had vomited Valentine’s Day decor into every available inch of the large restaurant. It was totally absurd and campy, and she loved it.
Though she wouldn’t put words to such a silly thought, it felt like the night had already made up for all of the February 14ths she’d spent alone. Whether it was high school when all of her friends received roses sent to their classrooms or college when she’d spent the week of the holiday in the library while her friends went on dates, she’d never had an intentional night like this. And she was grateful that Draco knew as much without her having to say it out loud.
Even smart girls wanted to feel special sometimes.
“I knew you would,” he smiled, pulling her hand into his own under the table. “They decorate this intensely for every holiday. My mother refuses to go around Halloween, she says that if Satan were to reside in any space, it would be here during the month of October.”
Hermione snorted, “I can only imagine. It’s beautiful now… tacky, but beautiful.”
“The best of both worlds,” he nodded. “You should take a look at the menu, it’s ridiculously long.”
“What do you get?”
“Lobster cardinale, it’s to die for. This is the only restaurant that I’ll pack up leftovers from.”
She raised her eyebrow, “That’s high praise, coming from you.”
He shrugged, “Credit where credit’s due; this pasta is too good to go to waste.”
He wasn’t wrong, as usual. Hermione had to stop herself from ordering a third drink, as the fruity concoction was so smooth that she could barely tell there was alcohol in it.
By the time their slices of cheesecake came - strawberry for Draco and triple chocolate for her - she felt like she was going to explode.
“Enjoy,” their waiter said as he carefully placed their dessert on the table.
Hermione’s eyes were wide at the massive pieces of cheesecake, and she had to stop herself yet again from taking a picture of the food. Draco would absolutely make fun of her for doing so, she was certain, and she’d restrained herself thus far.
“Open up, sweetheart,” he murmured, taking her by surprise when she glanced down to see a sizable piece of her decadent dessert on his fork.
Her mouth was dry, but she let her jaw fall open and let the luscious bite melt on her tongue.
She moaned in a way that was more fit for a movie than a dark corner of an old Italian restaurant, but she couldn’t help it. The cake really was that delicious.
“Good?” Draco asked, voice deep and low as he scooped up another bite for her, forgoing his own food to feed her. She had to readjust on the velvety booth, feeling infinitely grateful that it wasn’t plastic. If it was, she’d be stuck to the bench in no time if Draco kept this up.
All she could do was nod and accept another bite.
“Try some?” she questioned after a few minutes, realizing how close they’d gotten. Her bare knee was pressed to his thigh, and she wished that his skin was pressed against her own. She needed to get out of here before she turned their dinner into a truly indecent scene.
In lieu of an answer, Draco held a hand up and mimed signing a check in the most upper class white man move of all time. It broke her out of her fog for just a moment as she snorted.
“You would do that,” she chuckled, resting her head in the crook of his neck.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“The hand motion.”
“It’s me being nice. If I just held a hand up, he’d have to come twice, once to see what I wanted and again to bring the check.”
“You deserve a Nobel Peace Prize,” Hermione replied.
“I do,” Draco agreed solemnly before straightening up as their waiter came back. “Thank you for your service, Leon. We appreciate it.”
Hermione smiled at the kindness of the waiter as he spluttered over Draco’s words. Man or woman, it seemed like the blond’s attention had that effect on everyone.
By the time they got to the car, Draco’s free arm weighed down by the cheesecakes and the leftovers from their meal, Hermione felt like she was jumping in anticipation over what the rest of the night had in store.
Her tipsiness had faded by the time the cold night air was whipping in her face, and as soon as the door to the car shut her mind was alight with things she could say to let Draco know just how she was feeling.
In love. Grateful. Very, very aroused. Ready to be in his bed.
All of the above.
“Seatbelt.”
Draco’s command had her jumping, and he leaned over to do it himself when it was clear she wasn’t moving to buckle herself in.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked.
The night was dark enough that she couldn’t tell if his eyes were knowing or concerned.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just excited to get home.”
“My home?” his voice was cautious, and it had her remembering just how recently they’d fought when she’d asked to go home.
“Your home,” she confirmed, and Draco’s large hand started roaming over her left thigh. His fingers curled under her dress, so close yet so far from where she wanted them.
Despite Pansy’s insistence that thong lines under dresses were almost as egregious as panty lines, she’d worn a thin g-string. Now, she was infinitely grateful for the fabric, uncertain of whether wet marks would appear on her white dress otherwise.
The car ride was quick, and Draco ordered her in that low, dominant voice of his to go upstairs while he put their food in the fridge.
Once she got into his room, she turned his lamp on and paused. Should she get undressed? Lay on his bed? What was the proper etiquette here?
She felt a bit silly for acting like this was a one night stand and not a normal night with the man she’d already slept next to and been naked with multiple times. But at the end of the day, she was a young woman about to initiate sex for the first time and try to tell her boyfriend she loved him in one fell swoop. Her nerves were certainly warranted, and they weren’t going away no matter how Pansy’s voice was blasting in her brain to get it together.
Completely in her head, she jumped as Draco’s voice sounded.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, placing two glasses of water, one with ice and one without, on his nightstand.
“Nothing,” she smiled softly, stepping into his arms and sighing as he squeezed.
“Are you sure? We don’t have to do anything tonight, baby,” he replied, smoothing a hand down her hair. “I’m just happy to spend time with you before I have to go back to Charlotte.”
She pulled back, stepping onto her tippy toes and pulling Draco’s face in between her hands. He looked far too amused as she put her face close to his squished cheeks.
“I’m fine,” she promised.
“You are,” he agreed with a crooked grin, pressing a kiss to her lips and running his hands down her back.
“I am,” she repeated, and then before she lost her nerve, she pushed out, “And I want you. No more limits. No more waiting. I want you.”
There was a brief moment when all was still and his eyes met hers in the low light of the room, like he was searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it, and he crushed her to him, lifting her up in his embrace as his kiss took her breath away.
She was so lost in the moment that she barely realized he’d laid her down on the bed and somehow managed to undo the back of her dress all at the same time. It was impressive maneuvering, but she was too distracted by the wet kisses he pressed down her jaw and neck to think further on it.
All too soon, he pulled away from her to unbutton his shirt, leaving himself in tight slacks and a white undershirt. She sat up with a groan, knowing that it would be easier to shrug out of the top of her dress and remove her bra. Movies definitely made things like getting undressed seem a lot less awkward than they tended to be in real life, and she was grateful when her dress and heels were finally off and Draco had stripped down to his boxer briefs. She thought he might have been aiming for full nudity, but he’d been utterly distracted by the tiny white g-string she’d worn.
“Look at you, you’re so beautiful sweetheart, so sexy like this,” he groaned as he rubbed her through the damp fabric, making her squirm.
His hands were everywhere - circling her nipples in a way that drove her wild, peeling off her panties, and pushing her thighs apart.
“Touch me,” she whined, unable to stay still any longer. She loved when Draco guided them in bed, but she was about to combust, and his initial surge of passion had cooled to a slower pace than she’d expected.
“Hm?” he asked, trailing open mouthed kisses down to her breasts, his hands on the outside of her hips. Not touching her body at all.
“Please!” she bucked her chest up into his mouth, not even anxious at the thought of hurting him as she thrust.
“There,” he breathed out, hot air making her wet nipple pebble up further. “My sweet girl, forgetting her manners.”
“Don’t tease me.”
Draco pulled back, a devilish smirk on his face. “My good girl… I’m going to give you what you want, okay?”
“Please,” she agreed, reaching one hand down to cover his own and guide it between her legs. She was aching and far past the point of being able to squeeze her legs together to create enough friction.
He pulled his hand from her grasp and stroked her thighs, pushing them further apart, and she let out a high noise as he moved his index finger up and down her slit as though he were apprising the state of her wetness. She was soaking, and there was no way he couldn’t tell. He was teasing her… again.
Unwilling to beg, she lifted her hips in the hope his finger would somehow connect with her clit. Draco seemed to get the picture, flicking his thumb over her clit and sliding one and then two fingers into her sopping wet pussy.
“You’re dripping for me, sweetheart,” he groaned, pressing kisses to her lips in a fast, fond pattern. “I love you so much.”
She couldn’t help it; was it romantic? Maybe. Was it genuine? Yes.
“I love you, Draco,” she replied, the words slightly breathless and full of emotion. She meant it and had to repeat it. She couldn’t have him not knowing that she meant it, not when she was fully prepared to give herself to him. “I love you.”
It was almost comical how he froze for just the briefest of moments, two fingers still pressed inside her, before he lifted his head to gaze down at her with the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen.
In seconds, he’d tangled both of his hands in her hair and kissed her again, his tongue devouring her, before he impressively flipped them so she was straddling his lap. He cradled her face in his hands as he grinned at her.
“Say it again,” he prompted.
A smile stretched across her lips.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
She giggled this time.
“I love you, Draco Malfoy.”
He exhaled in a relieved way that made her wonder if he’d somehow been holding his breath around her for months, fearful that she’d slip away from him. He pulled her close, his forehead pressing against her own and closed his eyes.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” he admitted.
“I’m sorry I made you wait.”
He opened his grey eyes and smiled at her again. “I’m not. I don’t want you to say it unless you’re ready, and you genuinely mean it.”
He was still holding her face with both hands, so she stroked her hands up and down his arms and over his shoulders.
“I do mean it,” she whispered.
“I love you so much. Forever,” he promised.
Tears filled her eyes and her heart felt like it might somehow overflow with all of the emotion she felt.
“Forever,” she repeated.
She could hardly breathe as the weight of the moment settled over her. It was better than any movie she’d ever seen, and she had no idea how she’d ever been insecure about sharing her feelings with him. Their love story wasn’t something that’d occurred in any movie she’d ever seen, but maybe it would grace the screens one day. For now, though, it was theirs alone, and it was the most perfect moment she could ever imagine: the two of them, in their private little escape from the world, sharing their love for each other.
A man and a woman in love. And about to make love. Or fuck. Wherever the moment took them, she was ready for it and trusted Draco to lead them there.
“I need to be inside you, sweetheart,” he said, with what she could only identify as barely-there restraint in his voice.
“Yes!” she nodded fervently.
He wrapped a hand around her hip to steady her before leaning over with all of the grace she expected from him, even in this weird in-between moment. As he sat back up, his bedside drawer sliding shut with a resounding sound, he held a shiny foil packet between his fingers.
She was a student of life, and found herself fascinated by everything that took place in and outside of the bedroom; including the act of Draco slipping out of his boxer briefs even as she knelt above him and then rolling a condom on himself. How could he make something so weird look hot? Despite her certainty about finally having sex with the man she loved, seeing him roll a condom over his cock was a reminder that he looked to be rather well endowed, and she was suddenly nervous about fit and whether it would hurt. Didn’t everyone say it hurt the first time?
“Come back on my lap, sweetheart,” Draco smiled, patting his toned thighs gently.
She obeyed without thinking, crawling the short distance from where she hovered over his calves up to his thighs and hungrily leaning in to kiss him. Knowing that she just needed to take the leap, she pulled back to make sure she was directly over where she needed to be and lowered herself onto his cock.
She’d perhaps moved too quickly - the pain was sharp, and she wished she was at a different vantage point to know if she was close to being fully seated on his dick.
“Perfect, just perfect,” he praised, pressing chaste pecks to her lips in between his compliments as she let out a soft whimper. Gravity was doing more of the work than she was, but she was in uncharted waters, and having Draco’s reassurance in the moment meant everything.
“You’re so tight. Feel so good,” he groaned into her hair, and even though she thought she might be about to split in two, it was worth it to hear the desire and need in his voice.
She let out a pained hiss as she felt herself bottom out, and she rested her head on his shoulder. She needed a minute. Maybe two.
“That’s it. You’re there, my sweet girl. Take your time, baby,” he crooned in her ear, trailing his smooth fingertips up her hip before circling her nipples. The pleasurable twinge had her rocking her hips against her own volition, and she was surprised to find that the painful sting had faded into pleasure.
She hadn’t really expected to be on top and wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Obviously some sort of up and down motion was required, but she wasn’t sure what kind of pace was needed, and she wasn’t sure she could do it either. Her thighs were already quivering and felt like jello.
She rocked her hips harder and gasped at the sensation. It wasn’t enough though. She needed more.
“Draco… more,” she pleaded, letting out a sigh as he recaptured her lips and met her thrust.
His free hand moved back down to her clit, which only heightened her arousal.
“You’re so tight,” Draco groaned. “Feel so fucking good, my perfect girl. You were made for me, Hermione.”
“Ahh... I love you,” Hermione replied in a voice that she couldn’t believe was her own, the high, breathless tone far outside of anything she’d ever heard from herself.
He pressed his mouth to hers, devouring her in a wild kiss as he rolled them, pinning her down to the bed. His thrusts moved at a steady pace, and she clung to him, lifting her hips to meet his and wrapping her legs around his hips.
“Yes, that’s it. That’s my girl,” he encouraged, shifting one of her legs higher and making her cry out as his thick cock hit something inside her that felt absolutely incredible. She wanted to tell him to stay right there, keep doing exactly that, but words seemed to fail her. She could only seem to manage incoherent moans, and then his thumb was at her clit again, moving in time with his thrusts, and she thought she might see stars.
“You’re so good, so good, baby. Gonna make me come,” he warned what felt like moments later, speeding up his thrusts and flicking his thumb even faster over her clit.
Despite the pain she’d felt at the outset, he’d coaxed pleasure from her inexperienced body, and she hung on the precipice of orgasm, her pussy contracting around his cock in a way she knew he had to feel.
“Come with me,” he commanded, and Hermione felt the white hot rush of orgasm as she clung to him. He was her anchor, and she had never felt more safe and more free than she did as her body obeyed his command.
It could’ve been seconds or minutes later when Draco pulled out of her, and her center clenched emptily. She looked down, feeling wetness on her inner thighs, and had a sudden moment of fear that the condom had broken. It was blood.
“You’re okay, sweetheart,” Draco soothed, clearly seeing her wide-eyed stare.
“I know,” she replied in a slightly shaky voice. “It’s normal.”
Draco smiled gently and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “Hold on. Let me take care of you.”
He came back almost immediately and pressed a warm, wet washcloth to the inside of her thighs. “It is normal. Jarring, but normal. You’re perfect, love. Just perfect.”
If anyone had told her that she’d be lying on a possibly bloodied comforter while Draco Malfoy had a washcloth between her legs, she would have been horrified, but somehow his tender touch felt right.
She grinned up at him.
“I love you,” she repeated. The words felt almost too good to be true.
“I love you too,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Let’s get you in the bath, and I’ll clean up in here.”
“No,” she shook her head, feeling like a petulant child as she did so. “Come with me. Pleeeease.”
She dragged out the last word and offered up her most pleading look.
He sighed, “You look like the little orange cat from Shrek when you do that. I can’t say no to that face.”
Hermione smiled, inordinately pleased with the way the night had gone as Draco plucked her up into his arms like the dashing prince from her childhood storybooks.
And, in their little bubble where there were no presidential campaigns and no hordes of press and nothing to worry about, that’s exactly what he was.