Come Let Us Adore Him

February 26, 2019

An irritated Draco wasn’t a new concept; whether it was a problem with the Energy and Commerce Committee on which he was now the highest-ranking Republican, or his father’s campaign team bugging him, or legislation he was trying to craft with his own team, she’d seen how annoyed he could get.

But today, when his snippiness extended to her, that was a different story. It was a bit awkward too, honestly.

Pansy had come to her office to drop off keys to Draco’s house with a ridiculously theatrical wink and story about how Hermione ‘forgot’ her keys that morning. How her colleagues didn’t realize that the story was a sham was beyond Hermione, but she’d never look a gift horse in the eye.

Draco hadn’t shown up until 8pm, and announced himself by slamming the door shut and throwing his keys at the wall instead of placing them in the small bowl Hermione had thoughtfully purchased after he’d misplaced them a few times.

He’d not eaten the meal she’d prepared and had barely spoken to her, and now, at 11pm, he was still on the phone working through some appropriations snafu that had him acting like an absolute ass.

By the time he’d hung up, she was on her sixth episode of Parks and Rec.

“Everything okay?” she asked into the tense silence of the room, not really knowing what else there was to ask.

Even that vague question had her feeling a bit uneasy; was he scared to tell her what was going on because his problems seemed to revolve around her boss? Did he think of her as the enemy in these scenarios? Both thoughts made sense, honestly, but she still felt the need to ask.

“No,” he replied, his tone much sharper than she’d ever heard it. He sounded like his father, honestly, and she didn’t like that at all.

“Can I do anything to help? I can reheat dinner.”

The dinner she’d cooked for him that he didn’t touch.

His laugh was biting.

“I don’t think dinner’s going to help.”

Hermione had never been hailed as a patient woman, and the little bit of grace that she had disappeared with the tone he’d used.
“If you’re going to be a dick then I’m leaving,” she replied, starting to unwrap herself from the blanket burrito she’d ensconced herself in. If Draco was going to be a dick, however stressed he was, she didn’t want to be here for it.

He slumped down on the couch at her words, ending what had to be hours of pacing back and forth in front of the TV and the fireplace. She literally couldn’t leave, not with the way he had curled his body over her own. It was what she wanted from him, just not how she wanted it.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m trying to make you feel better, but when I’m making you more angry simply by offering to make dinner for you, I don’t know if you need me here,” Hermione snapped. “Or that I want to be here.”

Draco laid his head down in her lap, and she automatically started to stroke his hair before realizing she was being far nicer than he deserved.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Please don’t leave me,” Draco sighed, nuzzling into her hand like an overgrown, affection starved cat. “It’s been an awful day, and I don’t normally have someone here with me during approps season. It’s a bit of a change from being frustrated alone to having a sweet little thing ask if she can reheat me dinner.”

“Stop touching me,” she said, moving to scoot back.

It was impossible to stay mad when he was so cuddly and pitiful, which was clearly exactly what he wanted. She needed space.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I said I’m sorry, Hermione.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean that much when you’ve been a complete jerk to me this entire week, Draco. It’s okay to say that you need space to breathe or to be alone, but it’s not acceptable to treat me like gum on your shoe.”

“I’m trying to figure it out, okay? I wasn’t kidding... I’ve never come home to someone after my long days, this is an adjustment for me.”

“It’s a change for me too.”

“Let me know how I can make it better. I hate seeing you sad because of me, sweetheart.”

Draco was staring at her with wide eyes from the other side of the couch, looking like he thought the other shoe was about to drop. She wouldn’t leave him after one fight, especially one over something as benign as this, but she knew that this wasn’t a singular incident. If he was always angry and stressed, then their relationship would tank. She wasn’t here to be his punching bag.

“Just be nice to me,” Hermione replied with a huff. “I work at the same place you do, and my days are hardly easier than yours even though my name isn’t on the door.”

Draco nodded, reaching a hand towards her and letting it sit on the couch. Hermione stared at it for a moment before pulling it onto her lap. He smiled softly.

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m trying. Stay?”

“For now,” she relented.

“Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Bath?”

“Bath,” she agreed, letting out a sigh. This was going to be a long few weeks.

xxx

February 28, 2019

“I’m sorry to bug you,” Hermione started, pacing much like Draco was just a few days earlier.

Only now, she was far away from Draco and very pleased by that fact. Despite his apologies, he’d only gotten worse.

“Hermione, you could never bug me,” Luna replied, and even through the phone, she could tell the woman was serious. “Has Draco gone off the appropriations bend?”

She let out a laugh, “Is that what it’s called?”

“It is,” Luna said solemnly. “Draco and Blaise lose their minds every year around this time. Blaise has learned how to interact with me when he’s stressed, but I’m sure Draco is being a real jerk.”

“He is,” she agreed, eyes filling with tears despite herself. “He’s just… not someone I want to be around right now.”

“If you’ll let me preach…”

“Preach away.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Luna promised. “Stick with me here… when smart, normally chivalrous men let their anger and stress overload their brains, they turn into demons dressed in human skin. It’s the worst kind of witchcraft, I’ve seen it happen quite a few times over the years.”

That was… not the route Hermione had expected this conversation to take.

“But, thankfully there’s a cure.”

Hermione was very perturbed at Luna’s long pause. Was this a game show? Was she supposed to guess what the cure was?

“What is it?”

“Oh!” Luna’s laugh was tinkling and beautiful and Hermione couldn’t be mad at her. “I got lost in the memory of the last time demon Blaise was in the house.”

“That sounds awful!” Hermione replied, eyes wide as she tried to imagine Blaise being mean to his beloved wife.”

“Oh, it was. I chucked ice water at him to fix him. That won't get you long-term results, though though. Unfortunately it doesn’t get long-term results.” Even through the phone, Luna was very matter-of-fact and it had Hermione giggling as she imagined doing the same to Draco.

“What you need to do is take a step back and allow him to be with other men. They can fight and scream and eventually bring each other out of it.”

“So what do I do? Just… stay away from Draco until appropriations season is over?”

“Well, yes. As much as possible. Let Blaise and other congresspeople handle him. Your mental health matters just as much as his, and you need to learn early in your relationship that you can’t be everything Draco needs. No one can fill all of the holes in someone’s heart, and if you try you’ll both burst in a blaze of bloody flesh.”

Luna’s advice was solid, but Hermione thought her delivery provoked some rather disturbing mental pictures.

“I get what you mean,” Hermione’s reply was slow. “I think it’s just difficult to reconcile my desire to be there for him with my anger at his short-temper. He’s never like this, and I don’t like it.”

“Draco is not perfect, even if he’s pretty darn close to it, love. You are not able to solve everything, as smart and kind and determined as you are. Mesh those thoughts together in your mind.”

“So what now?”

“I think we take a page out of the Narcissa Malfoy playbook,” Luna replied with a hum. “I’ll call you back soon.”

xxx

March 1, 2019

Hermione could hardly believe she was currently seated on an Acela train to New York City.

Apparently, the ‘Narcissa Malfoy playbook’ involved guilt trips that led to girls’ weekends in the city that never sleeps.

“What’s that face?” Pansy asked, poking a perfectly manicured finger into Hermione’s cheek.

“I’m just wondering how I ended up here. It feels a bit silly.”

“This is the type of apology gift that you should expect from someone as rich as Draco,” Pansy was nodding along to her own explanation. “And, anyways, this trip is selfish on their parts. He and Blaise have to work all weekend and don’t want you and Luna bugging them.”

“Thanks for that,” Hermione muttered, feeling a bit offended though she knew it was true.

They’d be working through the weekend trying to iron out the Energy and Commerce Committee’s appropriations process before the Monday deadline. James was also working ridiculous hours, but thankfully that rested on the committee staff and not Hermione and her team. Small blessings.

“I’m serious! Just enjoy the weekend, okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione sighed.

xxx
March 4, 2019

She had, in fact, enjoyed the weekend. The first night, when they ended up at a ridiculously expensive restaurant that Pansy had heard about from one of her socialite friends, Hermione had relented and used the credit card Draco had pushed off on her in a covert meeting in his office.

There was no way she could afford more than three drinks in Manhattan unless she planned on going a month without groceries, so she swallowed her anger at the way Draco had pinched her lips between two long fingers and told her his credit card had a $45,000 limit and to let him know if she needed more over the weekend. She had no idea what he thought they’d be doing that would warrant spending that kind of money.

The man was completely untethered from middle-class reality, and it had her wondering, for just a moment, if they could really be compatible. The earnest look in his eyes drew her back in, though, and she just grumbled a ‘thank you’ into his chest as he placed the card into her wallet with a pleased smile. He was a good man, if more rich and generous than she could ever comprehend.

But now she was back in DC, it was Monday, and she was tired.

First votes were supposed to start at 6:30 pm, but due to a snow storm in the Midwest, they were pushed back until 8 pm so that a large swath of Members could land in DC safely. That meant James kept the legislative team at the office for a look-ahead meeting.

Hermione would never say it out loud, but it felt like her boss was more interested in company than actually holding an informative meeting. She couldn’t even feel accomplished when James praised her ambitious plans to introduce bipartisan legislation to increase veterans’ access to health care, not when James was barely listening and fooling around on his phone.

She now understood all of the times that Penelope, their scheduler, had dealt with an angry, insistent James who claimed ‘he never consented’ to meeting with specific groups. He was hardly ever listening to his staff when they addressed him.

By the time they were dismissed, it was 8pm and the bell signifying votes just rang. Hermione’s phone had 12 texts from Pansy that had it constantly vibrating against her leg while explaining her bill idea. Thankfully, she had the information down pat and wasn’t thrown off by the potential distraction. She was, of course, worried that someone was dying. Why else would Pansy have needed to text her so many times?

She packed her bags quickly so that James couldn’t call her back in to discuss something else, and it seemed like everyone else had the same idea by the way Dorcas was speed walking out of the office with only one arm stuffed into the sleeve of her winter coat, freezing temperatures be damned.

It was a bit easier to breathe once outside in the frigid air, and she started the short walk home.

Pansy: Bihhhh
Pansy: girl
Pansy: H
Pansy: ????????
Pansy: girl
Pansy: f you SO hard
Pansy: I’m changing the locks if you don’t text back
Pansy: Theo asked me to dinner
Pansy: Idk girl I need you to say ‘don’t go!!’
Pansy: I’m going
Pansy: Just stay home and call me at 9 if I don’t text you that I’m having fun
Pansy: don’t tell Draco!!!!! I will kill you. I love you

Hermione snorted, seeing that the last text had come in over an hour ago. By this point, it was almost nine. Knowing Pansy, she’d enjoy her time with Theo, and honestly... Hermione hoped it’d nip the girl’s slight interest in Harry in the bud.

After the texts Harry and a very drunk Pansy had exchanged over Thanksgiving, they’d spent the sum of one night together. The girl had been unwilling to discuss what’d occurred during their evening together, and Harry had gone radio silent which honestly worked well for Hermione. Though she was extremely curious what the hell had gone down.

Then, Pansy had been off to the Caribbean where her and Theo surprisingly did… nothing more than talk.

Was Pansy growing up? The girl did not need the baggage that went along with dating an attractive, rich dope, no matter how fun and funny Harry was - and Hermione said that with all the love in the world for him.

She was walking up to their house when the text came.

Pansy: All good! xo

By the time Pansy came home, Hermione was on the edge of her seat. Draco had sent a short text saying that Blaise forced him to attend a fundraiser, and honestly, that worked out for the best. He would’ve realized she was hiding something immediately if they were together. Her poker face was nonexistent.

“So?” Hermione asked impatiently from the couch as Pansy strutted slowly.

The smile on her pretty face said it all.

“It was just dinner,” Pansy shrugged, sighing as she sat down on the couch. “And a bit of an interrogation.”

“Do not do this to me! I’ve waited here alone all night.”

“That sounds like more of a “you” problem than a “me” problem.”

“Remind me why I should care about what you’re doing again when your attitude sucks this much?”

“Sorry, bitchy is a reflex,” Pansy replied with an unrepentant grin. “He was sweet and chivalrous and didn’t take me to We, the Pizza like Harry would’ve. Theo knows how to wield his wealth.”

“That’s good!” Hermione encouraged. “What did he interrogate you about?”

“Oh,” Pansy flipped her hair and curled her upper lip. “He said he saw you leaving Draco’s office twice last week.”

“Shit,” Hermione replied, getting her hand stuck in knotty curls when she moved to run it through her hair. “What did you say?”

“What do you think?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I told him that we’re paid to work and not to gossip, I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his pretty little head at that. Then he spent five minutes apologizing for insinuating that anything was going on.”

“You’re the best,” Hermione sighed, feeling a bit relieved. “Should I tell Draco?”

Pansy shrugged. “I would, I mean… I’m going to guess Adrian’s noticed something if Theo has.”

“Fun.”

“Certainly,” Pansy snickered. “It’ll be out soon, anyways. Just make sure he and Blaise can keep an eye on things.”

“That means I’ll have to tell him you went to dinner with Theo.”

Pansy mulled it over. “That’s fine. Hardly the worst interoffice relationship going on.”

She had a point.

“How did you leave it?”

Pansy’s response was dry, “Goodnight, see you at work tomorrow.”

“Well.”

“Well is right,” Pansy sighed. “Let’s leave that on the backburner for now. Did you make a decision yet?”

Right… the girl’s weekend in New York, as fun as it had been, included what Hermione would consider to be a drunken intervention. While it was well-meaning,

Hermione had bristled at Luna and Pansy’s insistence that she needed to do something for herself; not for Draco, not with Draco, and not for her office either. Hermione Granger, all by her lonesome.

“I have,” she smiled softly.

“Out with it!”

“I messaged my pastor last night and he’s getting me in touch with his contact who leads ministry efforts at the public housing site near us. He thinks it’s a great idea.”

“Of course he does!” Pansy agreed, and Hermione’s smile grew at that. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Pans,” Hermione replied sincerely.

She’d spent years idealistically dreaming of how she’d make an impact on the world, and her mind always came back to raising up the next generation of women. After growing up with parents who were never there, she’d felt called to serve young women in DC who may be experiencing the same thing. Honestly, Hermione had been surprised that Pansy didn’t outright object to her idea of starting a ministry for teen girls as trying to do too much and help too many people. No, Pansy had agreed that it made perfect sense, and Luna had even commented that Narcissa would be impressed with her decision. Not that the woman’s approval was what Hermione was going for… but it was encouraging.

Now she just needed to actually carve out time for the endeavor, which would be the most difficult part of all of this. Saying ‘no’ was easy. She could make a pretty solid case that she didn’t have enough time, couldn’t commit to something weekly, that teenage girls dealing with traumatic situations needed someone reliable in their lives… but she knew she should say yes. And she wanted to say yes, honestly.

“I love you,” Pansy smiled, yanking Hermione across the couch and into a hug. “We are both amazing. I need to sleep before life gets weird tomorrow.”

“I love you too,” Hermione smiled, following Pansy upstairs. “It’ll be fine. Theo isn’t socially inept, he’ll act like nothing happened.”

“Oh, my innocent, darling flower, don’t be too sure about that. Boys do crazy shit when their billionaire fathers are pressuring them to get a ring onto a perfectly manicured finger.”

xxx

March 13, 2019

The couple attended a happy hour for National Women’s History Month at the Capitol that evening, and Draco’s eyes burned into her the entire time. She was surprised that she was even able to catch up with Cho on her promotion with the way Draco’s lips would twist into a knowing smirk at her every time his eyes caught hers from across the room.

It was hardly one-sided though. As much as Draco’s eyes were on her, Hermione’s eyes were on him. That’s why she didn’t miss when he left the reception, and feigned a yawn of her own before following him out and meeting him in the hallway. Hermione was grateful Pansy wasn’t there to give her a knowing smirk at her fast clip out of the event.

She’d had a moment of fear that she’d made something out of nothing, and that he wouldn’t have been waiting for her. But he was, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his tight, perfectly tailored black pants. At that moment, she couldn’t blame the women who were pretending to text on the other side of the hallway just to stare at him for a moment longer. She understood how they felt.

As they made their way to the parking garage, Draco was stopped by Marcus Flint who clearly did not recognize her at all. Good. That was an embarrassment she did not need to suffer.

Though Hermione was amused by how stiff Draco was during the exchange, as though he still held a grudge against the man for the way he’d made her cry almost two years ago, the blond introduced her to the Montanan brute. He didn’t give her a title, not his staffer or acquaintance or girlfriend, but by the way the stranger greeted her, she could tell he understood.

And, unlike Percy and every Hill intern on earth, she didn’t have her staff badge hanging out of her blazer. So she looked like nothing more than a woman attending an event with her sexy Congressman of a partner. She was shielded by mystery, at least for now.

Both of them were clearly turned on by that thought, if Draco’s hand sliding up her thigh as he drove them home was any indication. They barely made it inside his townhome before he backed her up against the wall for a passionate kiss that sent shivers down her spine.

Between his trip back to the district and on the campaign trail with his father, her girls’ weekend in New York City, and his stress over appropriations, it felt like they’d barely had any quality time together.

Since they’d moved past the issue of her virginity, what little time they’d had together was often spent in bed. She didn’t exactly have anything to compare it to, but sex with Draco was amazing, and she couldn’t get enough of him...which was how she ended up stumbling down the hall in his embrace as she kicked off her heels and attempted to wriggle out of her tights without tripping.

Draco steered her toward the sofa, and she giggled as they fell onto it together, pulling at each others’ clothes.

“You introduced me to your colleague,” she murmured into his neck as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“Mmmm… I did,” he said pulling her up so she was straddling him, his hands easily disappearing under her dress now that her tights were off. “And we walked out of the Capitol like a regular couple. And no one said anything.”

“I… oh....do that again,” she gasped as his fingers slipped beneath her panties. “I know. It felt normal and forbidden all at once.”

“It did. I feel like a teenager sneaking around,” he admitted as he peeled her dress off and then rolled them over so he was on top of her on the sofa.

“Very naughty,” she agreed, sliding her hands down his ridiculously perfect abs and unbuckling his belt and pants as quickly as she could.

“Very. Want you now,” he murmured into her chest as he tugged her panties down enough for her to kick off.

Hermione was ready, only to have him pull back from her.

She let out a questioning noise as he reached onto the floor and dug through his wallet.

He spoke at the same time that she realized what he was going for.

“Condom.”

Thankfully he was quick about it, and even as he pressed a kiss of apology to her lips, the only thing on her mind was the anticipation of what came next.

Draco murmured a soft curse word as he pushed into her. He took her hard and fast, pinning her arms above her head, his hands holding tight to her wrists as he drove into her. He’d not done that before, and she had no doubt that he’d release her if she asked, but she was surprised to realize that she liked the way she felt when he held her down. Unable to free herself, she wriggled her hands in his grip and arched her back into his touch, wrapping her legs around him as he sent them both flying over the edge into orgasm.

They ended up a sweaty and breathless tangle of limbs on the sofa afterward, which was both awkward and wonderful all at once. She snuggled closer to him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne as they caught their breath.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss into her messy curls. “You are so good, sweetheart,” he murmured. “My good girl.”

She blushed at his words and let out a small squeak as his hands roamed over her naked body.

She’d managed to get his clothes off enough for sex, but she was now painfully aware that he was more dressed than she was.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s embarrassing,” she muttered. How did her brain go the places it did sometimes? Especially in a moment like this.

“Tell me. Please,” he tacked on after a long pause, fingers worrying her nipples back to stiff peaks.

“Well,” Hermione drew out, tucking her face further into Draco’s chest.

“Can you look at me? Good girl,” Draco praised as they both sat up. He kicked off his pants and shrugged out of his shirt and then grabbed a throw and wrapped it around them, clearly uncaring of the stickiness all over their bodies and now his favorite blanket.

“I liked watching you at the event,” she said quietly, eyes flicking up to meet his. “You always look in control… it turns me on. And then what you did… holding my hands down...”

“You like when I’m in control,” he repeated. “You also like when I tell you what to do.”

“That too,” Hermione insisted. “Is that… a thing?”

“A thing?” he asked, a small smile on his face. He was clearly recalling the conversation where she’d asked if her being a Christian was a turn on for him. How naive she’d been.

“Yes, Draco. You know what I mean.”

“I’m not teasing you, baby,” he promised, pulling her back into his arms. “This is a long overdue conversation, honestly. Everyone has their own way of internalizing their life’s circumstances. For someone like me, who’s had their life planned out since conception, I crave control. I need to know everything on my daily schedule; I need my staff to know the issues they cover inside and out. I don’t like surprises, and I don’t like to feel like life is controlling me.

“When I was your age, I found myself in the first serious relationship I’d ever been in. She was lovely, smart, driven, everything you’d want in a woman. Pardon me sharing so much about another lady, sweetheart, but this is important… we’d get into the bedroom and claw at each other. We both wanted control, and neither of us were willing to give it up. So we broke up.”

Hermione easily kept eye contact with Draco, knowing that she didn’t feel jealous. This was his past... it meant nothing. Especially, she’d discovered, if he’d turned down all of these women when his parents were breathing down his neck for a wedding and children. It was clear that he really didn’t care about his exes or his dalliances. All the better for her, honestly.

“I ended up going to see a therapist to try to see what was wrong with me. Turns out nothing is; I’m just a dominant man, I want to know that I have everything under control and I can take care of those who are special to me.”

Draco paused, taking a sip of water. She was starting to understand why he was so militant about having water in every room they went into; having sex really took it out of you.

“So I could’ve been more up front with you, sweetheart, and probably would have been if you’d had more experience. There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with me. From what I’ve seen, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually, sexually… we match up very well. How do you feel about all of that?”

They were both quiet for a moment, him giving her the floor and her trying to organize her thoughts into a coherent response.

“I haven’t been able to put words to what I’m feeling… it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Especially when it’s something...not completely sexual, like you buying self-defense things for me or wanting to know what I’m going to wear to an event.”

She fervently hoped that he knew what she meant.

“All of it is weird at some point,” Draco admitted with a bit of a laugh. “Sex is weird. Foreplay is weird. All of it’s weird until it isn’t. Different strokes for different folks and all that, but yes. You’re right about this not being purely physical. Dominance and submission, it’s less a purely sexual desire for me and more ingrained in my everyday life. The way you trust me to take care of you? Something in you trusts me enough to submit. Whether that’s listening to me in bed or listening to me when I ask you to eat lunch at work or using my credit card when I give it to you... That means a hell of a lot to me, Hermione, and I promise I will be careful with you, your mental state, and your heart. I need that control in my life, but I would never want to hurt you in any way.”

“I appreciate it, and I can tell that you care. But I also want to make you feel good… I don’t want this to be one-sided, you know?”

“Oh?”

Hermione blushed and looked down.

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“This is between you and me. We’re going to need to have this conversation at some point; so be brave for me, sweetheart.”

She took a breath. Be brave. She could do that. For Draco, anyway.

“I like when you tell me I’m good. I’ve always liked it when people praise me. At school, at debate club, at work… I’ve been wrestling with it, though. I know that it’s sexist and patronizing when someone at work says it to me. I bristle when anyone else does. But when you do? It makes me feel… nice. Special. A bit hot.”

Draco nodded as though her rambling thoughts made sense, waiting to make sure she was done speaking before he replied.

“Well first… our brains are complex; there’s no way we can ever expect to understand everything that we enjoy or dislike. Would I ever call you my good girl in front of anyone else? Absolutely not. Would I ever call a woman in the workplace a good girl? Absolutely not. Do I wish you’d call out your colleagues for saying it to you? I do.

“But if you like when I call you my good girl in private, then I will. If you decide you dislike any name that I’ve called you, be it good girl or sweetheart or sugar or anything else that comes up, then tell me. It’ll be a learning curve, but that’s what building a strong relationship requires.”

“I feel like we should be past the curve by now,” she frowned, feeling slightly defensive.

She’d clearly tensed up, and Draco ran a hand down her arm and made a soft soothing noise that helped her relax.

“Even people who’ve been in relationships for 50 years still learn new things about their partners. That will never change. What matters now is that we’re safe and continue to have these conversations. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, moving in for another kiss.

For a time, they simply rested together on the sofa in an easy silence. He seemed to know that she would want to mull over everything he’d said. She appreciated that he’d been open and honest with her but also moved at a cautious pace with their relationship and his need for control.

The feminist in her wanted to wholeheartedly reject the idea of allowing anyone to hold dominance over her - she was an adult and a strong woman, and she had proven that she could manage even when life was hard. Except that she liked letting Draco take care of her. He made her feel cherished and protected and loved. He’d never made it feel like there was an inherent power imbalance between them that he held over her or that she had no autonomy or control.

She could even admit now, as she rested against him, she could see that her earlier concern was misplaced. He was right: they couldn’t possibly be expected to understand everything about each other and their own needs, although she hoped that she wasn’t still trying to figure out this sort of thing when they’d been together as long as Lucius and Narcissa had.

Narcissa…

Something niggled at her brain at the thought of his mother. Then her eyes popped open wide.

“Oh! Draco! Your mother emailed me earlier, I haven’t read it yet.”

“Way to take me out of the moment,” he groaned, standing up and pulling Hermione into his arms. “Let’s get clean and into comfortable clothes before we entertain any more conversation about my mother.”

Hermione giggled at that. He certainly had a point.

xx

“What is it?” Draco asked, leaning his long body over to read Hermione’s phone screen.

“It’s… a list of a bunch of charities she thinks I should start volunteering with in DC,” Hermione replied, slightly confused by the email. The tone was nice; it was firm, too, saying that Hermione needed to plant philanthropic roots in the nation’s capital, and that she was more than happy to help her do that.

“She’s nagging you the way she nags me,” Draco smiled, pressing a kiss onto Hermione’s bare shoulder. “My mom really likes you, sweetheart. Long emails full of demands and instructions are her primary love language.”

Hermione laughed, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

“Feel good, baby… feel good. ‘I’ll call you later to discuss; I’m praying for you now, dear,’ is my mother’s email version of a warm hug and plate of cookies.”

“If you say so…”

“I do,” Draco promised. “Can you teach me how to braid your hair? You said you would months ago…”

“I thought you were asking just to ask,” Hermione smiled softly. “You can, it will just take a while…”

She felt the tingly feeling she remembered from elementary school when people would ask to play with her curls, only much more intense knowing it was Draco who was putting effort into doing her hair.

Hermione was shocked to learn that he at least sort of knew how to both braid and French braid; Columba had forced him to learn when they were younger, and his muscle memory was still there. She would’ve been more impressed if Draco wasn’t perfect at everything else in the world, but had a silly little smile on her face as she curled up in bed with Draco as his hand stroked her long braid. It had taken him a long time to do, and he’d gotten his fingers tangled in her curls more than a few times, but his earnestness over the whole thing was simply adorable.

“Your mom hasn’t called,” Hermione whispered into Draco’s side, feeling only slightly bad for interrupting him as he read a binder of prep documents for a hearing tomorrow.

“She’ll call,” Draco was wearing his thick-rimmed black glasses that he only wore in bed, and she had to talk herself off of the ledge of arousal she was ready to fling herself off of. “They want you to come to Charlotte for my grandma’s birthday.”

“Which one?”

“Livana.”

“Oh! Please,” Hermione replied, surprised by how much she wanted to. “They were so nice… I’d love to get to know them better.”

“Of course, baby. It’s next weekend, so just plan on flying out Friday.”

She nodded into his soft skin. Sounded like a plan to her.

xxx

March 22, 2019

Hermione was now a true professional when it came to snapping photos of Draco and random people, and she felt silly for not realizing that everyone at their airport gate knew exactly who he was.

The gate agent was clearly a seasoned veteran at handling elected officials, and insisted Draco board the flight first. In what seemed to be a practiced routine, he said no, he’d board when he was called. They had been upgraded to first class, something that he never paid for, but didn’t refuse when offered.

An older woman had regaled them with tales of working on Abraxas’ first campaign for mayor of Charlotte, and if Hermione had to judge her own patience while the wrinkly lady blabbered on in a deep accent, she’d give herself a ten. How Draco did this every day… she had no idea.

“Grandma,” a woman who looked to be Hermione’s age walked up, an embarrassed smile on her face. “Why don’t you leave them alone?”

The old woman’s brown eyes opened wide, like she hadn’t even considered that she was interrupting their time together.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, dears!” she apologized, and both Hermione and Draco waved her off. But honestly… Hermione hoped she’d leave.

“No worries, ma’am,” Draco smiled easily. He was too damn good at the chivalrous southern gentleman routine.

“See, miss, this is why an old hen like me takes up your time blabbering! It’s tough not to come and adore your fella up close.”

Hermione let out a giggle, “Any time, miss. It’s been lovely hearing your stories.”

“Anytime, dears. Safe travels!”

The women walked away and left them blessedly alone. For a moment, at least.

“You’re a natural,” Draco smiled, taking Hermione’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to it.

She rolled her eyes playfully, “It’s not that bad… they’re sweet.”

“Wait until we have angry people coming up to us,” Draco warned.

“Does that happen often?”

He moved his hand in a so-so motion.

“Hm... I’m sure it’ll happen more often now with father’s campaign starting, but in Charlotte most people are polite even when they disagree with us. The worst I get is someone angry about something they don’t completely understand, and I take the time to have a dialogue with them until they’re calmer.”

Hermione sighed. “I took a call from someone in Kansas earlier today who insisted I had to listen to them since they pay taxes and I work for them.”

Draco let out a loud laugh, “That’s… not how this works.”

“Right?” Hermione agreed enthusiastically. “If people bothered to read the Constitution, they’d have some semblance of understanding that I work for the people of my district, not every American.”

“Spoiler alert, sweetheart,” Draco whispered, an amused smirk on his face that had Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. “Americans take pride in their ignorance. They will never take the time to read a 4,500 word document.”

xxx

March 23, 2019

Hermione wasn’t nervous as they drove up the long drive to Lucius and Narcissa’s manor. She could have even classified herself as excited. Without Bellatrix, this felt like going to Disneyland. Well, what she expected going there would feel like.

Narcissa had insisted they come over early to help set up, which Draco said was code for ‘drink and talk’ since the woman had already finished cooking and decorating the house for the party.

Tasteful decorations, Draco had added after a moment, as though he’d been able to peer into Hermione’s mind and see the images of streamers and a plastic table cloth that she’d conjured up.

“You look beautiful,” Draco smiled as he helped Hermione out of the truck, running a reverent hand down her cheek.

“Thanks to you,” she rolled her eyes, accepting his hand as they walked up.

“Thanks to me,” he agreed. “My mother’s already commented on how chic you are, so we just need to keep that up.”

She just nodded, keeping to herself that he’d need to buy all of her clothes if she wanted to pay rent, eat food, and dress like a Malfoy. She couldn’t swing all three, as much as she’d love to have the funds to do so.

“Hermione!” Narcissa smiled as they walked in, pulling the girl into a warm hug. “Draco, dears… we’ve missed you.”

“Hi Narcissa,” Hermione smiled, loving the way she could call the woman by her first name without reservation now. “Thank you for having me.”

“None of that! You’re family.”

“And you’re chipper,” Draco replied, shaking his head.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes, “And none of that, son! Go see your father, he’s in a mood and I will not be having it today. His mother deserves better.”

“Yes ma’am,” Draco replied dutifully, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s temple before slipping his shoes off and heading into the house.

“There,” Narcissa smiled. “Just us girls now.”

Hermione laughed, “Is Senator Malfoy actually upset?”

“Call him Lucius. He’ll never drop the formality himself, so I’ll take care of that for him. Men and their points of pride.”

“Lucius,” Hermione said, a bit cautiously. When push came to shove, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to call him Lucius to his face. Not without Narcissa glued to her hip and ready for backup, at least.

“He is in a bad mood, he’s been prickly all day. It’s his mother’s birthday, and I won’t stand for anything less than chipper and loving.”

Narcissa was one amazing, scary woman.

“I’m sure Draco will be able to help with that. Speaking of… what can I do to help set up?”

“You’re too sweet, dear. Let’s set up the mimosa bar and sample our work,” Narcissa let out a tinkling laugh.

“That sounds like a plan… how have you been? I’m sure the campaign has made life a bit tougher.”

“Oh, we’re always in the midst of one campaign or another. It’s just the unpleasantness of traveling to the cold, dreary midwest in this one,” she sighed, leading Hermione into a gorgeous kitchen outfitted in light blues and cream.

“I can’t imagine,” Hermione commiserated. “What is your role on these early visits?”

“Ceremonial, mostly. My presence sweetens a lot of smaller events up, and it brings women in the door which allows us to raise more money. Nothing opens up a man’s wallet like a smooth drink and his wife’s smile, hm?”

Add Narcissa to the list of people who were out of touch with middle-class reality.

“That’s smart,” Hermione commended, unsure of what else she could say. “I’m sure the campaign trail is a bit different when you’re in New Hampshire or Iowa.”

“You have no idea. I’ve told Lucius I won’t be going to the state of Nevada, that place is the closest to Hell we’ll ever come on this planet, but he still plans to campaign there.”

Hermione had to hide a laugh at the disgusted expression on the beautiful woman’s face.

“I’ve never been to Nevada.”

“You’re better off for it! Lucius took me to Las Vegas for a conference once, I have never felt dirtier in a five star hotel. Drug dealers, ladies of the night, it was a nightmare. You just tell me if my son ever tries to take you there, and I’ll be having words with him.”

“I appreciate that,” Hermione replied, thinking that was the right thing to say.

“Enough talk of the devil’s playground… You said you have a philanthropic endeavor in mind?”

“I do,” Hermione smiled. This was far more even ground. “I’m in the process of starting a small group for Christian girls in DC.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful. How old?”

“Middle school, my pastor connected me with the head of ministry efforts at one of the public housing complexes in southeast DC, and he identified them as the group most in need of mentorship. It looks like I’ll have four girls in my group to start. As much as I’d love to have more, I don’t want to stretch myself too thin and be a poor mentor.”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” Narcissa soothed as she juiced oranges for the mimosa bar. “Slice up some strawberries, wouldn’t you dear? It’s better to start small and get your feet under yourself than shoot for the stars and land with a resounding splat on the ground. This is an admirable undertaking, and you’ll change these young lives for the better. Why this?”

“Thank you, Narcissa. Your support means the world. My childhood was... nowhere near perfect. There were many aspects of growth that I missed out on, spiritually, socially and intellectually, without having my parents there to help me. I want to try to mitigate that as much as I can for other girls, whether that’s Bible study or help with homework or college applications or friendship advice... Everyone deserves to have someone there to help them.”

“You’re a dear heart, my girl. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance… I look forward to meeting these young ladies soon.”

“So do I,” Hermione smiled, trying as hard as she could to slice the strawberries evenly. The last thing she needed was Narcissa to disapprove of her cutting skills. “I’d love to volunteer with you when we are back in DC, if you’d like.”

“I’d love to, Lucius is the kind to make pathetic excuses when the weather starts to get warm. He thinks he can fool me after over 40 years of marriage, but I’m no fool… the man just wants to golf.”

Hermione laughed, “I’ll take his place.”

“We’ll need to drink to that,” Narcissa said, pouring both of them a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and champagne that was far fancier than the $6 bottles Hermione bought at Trader Joe’s.

“Cheers,” Hermione agreed, clinking their glasses together. “This is delicious!”

“Fresh squeezed juices are such a hassle when my hands are dry in the winter months, but always worth it.”

“Agreed,” Hermione nodded, taking another sip of mimosa. “What else can I do?”

“We’ll just need to put the blueberries in their own bowl alongside the strawberries and take everything out to where I’ve set up the drink bar.”

They had finished setting up a few minutes later and were downing their second drinks on the couch while Narcissa regaled Hermione with a story of how nine-year-old Draco spent the summer attempting to become the world’s youngest Kentucky Derby jockey.

A laugh bubbled up in Hermione’s chest.

“He just fell off?”

Narcissa let out a snicker of her own, head thrown back as she laughed.

“He did, I heard him scream from the barn. He’d put the goggles on before he was fully seated on the horse, and completely missed his mark. Fell right off the other side.”

“I can only imagine! Sorry for laughing,” Hermione had to cover her mouth, unsure if it was the image of a young Draco sneaking his father’s ski goggles to cosplay as a Kentucky Derby jockey or the alcohol making her laugh so hard.

“Don’t you worry, dear. It’s a funny story. Our Draco has always been… spirited and determined, which has led him into trouble once or twice.”

“This is… unexpected,” Lucius drawled, jolting the women up from where their heads were bowed together on the couch, champagne flutes in hands.

“Lucie,” Narcissa smiled softly, letting out another giggle as her eyes flickered to her son.

“What are you doing, wife?” he asked with newly narrowed eyes.

“We’re just sharing stories about Draco,” she replied. “Remember when he wanted to be a jockey?”

“No,” Draco groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I’m far too old for this.”

“Never!” Hermione and Narcissa replied at the same time, clicking their glasses at the jinx.

“I need a drink,” Lucius sighed.

“Me too, father. Me too,” Draco said, following the man up to the mimosa bar.

“No!” Narcissa admonished. “You can drink the Tropicana orange juice that’s in the fridge. Fresh made is for our guests.”

“And you two,” Draco muttered as he turned to follow his father out of the room.

“Pardon?” Narcissa asked in a sharp tone.

“Nothing mother,” he replied with a winning grin and wink at Hermione.

He really was the worst, but a slightly tipsy Hermione couldn’t help but find him charming.

“He’s far too much like his father,” Narcissa sighed as the men walked out. “You’ll have to clean up messes that people don’t even know he’s left.”

“Everyone just marvels at him,” Hermione agreed. “Does it ever get old? Having to share him?”

“You’ll have a lifetime of wide eyed women and cunning men begging you, ‘oh, please Mrs. Malfoy, come let us adore him for just a minute more!’ and you will have meals gone cold and shopping trips interrupted, but that’s public service. And you’ll be the beautiful woman taking the photo and taking him home, and they’ll be the person who is left with a photo and a few Facebook likes if they’re lucky.”

Hermione felt a bit taken aback at that; however blunt and disdainful Narcissa was… she had a point.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Narcissa smiled, patting her soft hand on Hermione’s own. She looked down to see the woman’s stunning wedding ring nestled on her ring finger. “Draco’s a good man, he’s just as protective as his father is… you’ll never have to deal with this on your own.”

“I’m grateful for it,” Hermione nodded, slightly shocked to realize that she and Narcissa were talking like they were well-acquainted. She felt slightly like a kid who’d had their training wheels taken off while they were focused on peddling. It felt normal. It was normal.

Voices sounded from the front hallway, and Narcissa stood up with her champagne flute still in hand.

“Let’s go dear, we have a party to throw.”

We… Hermione liked the sound of that when it came from Narcissa’s mouth.

xx

The cause of celebration may have been Livana Malfoy’s birthday, but Hermione had spent most of the day and night with Abraxas. The couple had clearly been together long enough to feel comfortable spending the day apart, Livana moving from person to person and laughing and talking with everyone like the seasoned political wife she was. Hermione was grateful for the chance to spend time with Draco’s grandfather - the man was an absolute delight and much more like Draco than Draco was like Lucius. It left her feeling confident and downright warm and fuzzy as she thought of what Draco would be like when he was older. Dapper and warm.

It was a bit uncomfortable, even for someone as logical as herself, to contemplate just how much older than her Draco really was. He’d always be older than her, and that was anxiety-inducing as she thought about the timeline she’d set for her own life and career. It was already likely going to be derailed by Draco’s and his father’s political careers, so she’d tried to avoid making herself even more anxious by thinking too much about what their age difference would really mean long-term. Having children would certainly have to be condensed on her timeline if they were to stay together, and that was a thought that she didn’t want to touch regardless of how many times Pansy tried to make her confront it.

“You’re a sweet girl, Miss Hermione,” Abraxas smiled softly, patting her bare thigh in the non-creepy way that only a kindly old, very-in-love grandpa could. “You sure have beat the odds, not being scared away by the snake pits and rat traps my son and his minions have tried to ensnare you in.”

Hermione giggled and spoke before she could stop herself, “Wasn’t Mr. Snape technically your minion first?”

The man let out a loud laugh, drawing multiple sets of eyes towards where they were nestled on a couch. The Malfoys had multiple sitting rooms that were classified by whether or not they had a television as either ‘family’ or ‘living’ spaces, which was yet another rich person concept that she could not fathom.

They were currently in a TV-less living space that was decorated in creams and blues, but unlike the sitting room in the front of the house where any regular guest could see, this one looked lived in. Hermione understood why it’d be utilized for a family event.

“Oh, he was, but I don’t claim him. Sev was a good, malleable boy back when he was on my payroll… that husband of his changed him for the worst.”

“Really?” she asked cautiously, not knowing what kind of waters she was treading in. As a woman, she was more than aware of people who’d open up a conversation with leading comments only to trap you when you made similarly damning comments of your own. The last thing she needed was middle school drama with grown men. Especially dangerous, rude men like these ones.

“Oh yes,” Abraxas nodded, blue eyes harder than they’d been at any other time in their conversation. “Power can make anyone worship at its altar, and Tom never wanted to get down on his knees and pray alone… Severus was a good pick for him, admittedly, but that doesn’t mean I like what he’s become.”

Hermione just nodded, not wanting to feed into this conversation. The territory was far too dangerous.

“You’re smart to be cautious, darlin’,” he smiled approvingly. “You’ve got a good brain in your noggin, but know that Livana and I are here if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Brax,” Hermione replied gratefully. “I really appreciate it.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, doll.”

“What’s this?”

Hermione jumped a bit as Draco entered the conversation, his eyebrow cocked as he looked between the pair.

“Just an old man with the good fortune to be entertained by a smart, pretty gal.”

“I see,” Draco drawled slowly, accent coming out even more in the presence of his extended family. “Room for one more man looking to be entertained?”

Now that just sounded wrong, but she couldn’t hide her smile.

Hermione patted the other side of the couch, and tried not to snort at the thought of now being in the middle of a Malfoy sandwich.

“Precious!” Columba cooed, noticing that three of them were laughing together, as she pulled out her phone.

“Y’all look this way!” she called out, commanding them to smile for a photo.

“Don’t post that,” Lucius said sharply to his daughter, appearing seemingly out of nowhere at the sight of a camera.

When had he even crossed the room to take in what was happening? The man must’ve been only half-paying attention to the conversation he’d been having with Narcissa’s mother, poor woman.

By Columba’s expression, Hermione could tell Lucius’ tone wasn’t one she was used to having directed at her.

“I know, Daddy,” she scowled, looking like a carbon copy of her mother. “You boys act like I have no sense sometimes!”

“Hey, don’t involve me in this,” Draco retorted, holding his hands up in defense.

The pretty blonde just shot him a deadpan look, “You won’t be involved when y’all stop with the nonsense!”

Rolf had the good sense to stay on the other side of the room with Narcissa’s parents. Not for the first time, Hermione wondered how many Malfoy family fights he’d witnessed in his lifetime.

“It’s not nonsense, my precious girl,” Lucius sighed, rubbing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “It’ll just be until Easter, then you can be more free with social media, within limits of course. You really should just lock everything down.”

Columba’s answering scowl hinted that this was an on-going dispute between Lucius and his grown daughter.

Easter? That was news to Hermione, and by Draco’s expression, it was something that was news to him as well. Weirdly, that made her feel better. She didn’t want any secrets between them, and if that meant Draco was blindsided by this… then so be it.

“Easter?” Draco asked. Hermione loved many things about him, but his forwardness was chief among them.

“Easter,” Lucius repeated firmly. “Rumors are already flying about the two of you in DC, and I won’t have my campaign derailed by it all. The sneaking around and coy side-steps on whether or not you’re involved with some young girl have to end. So either end it and get on with your lives or be prepared to go public at Easter.”

Hermione and Draco shared a look, and it was clear they were wholly on the same page. Easter it was.