Return to Reality
The honeymoon period, if it could have even been called that, was officially over.
The grand halls of Malfoy Manor had served as their gilded cage for long enough, and now, reality came knocking. As newlyweds, Hermione and Draco had spent days navigating each other, toeing the fragile line between truce and something far more dangerous. But outside the walls of their reluctant sanctuary, life had continued without them.
And life was waiting.
Hermione
The morning was a rush of hurried dressing, rushed breakfasts, and an unspoken acknowledgment of what lay ahead. Hermione had always loved her work at the Ministry—being the youngest department head in decades was no small feat, and she took immense pride in her position within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
But today, the excitement was dampened by the looming awareness that she was no longer just Hermione Granger. She was Hermione Malfoy.
She had expected stares when she walked into the Ministry Atrium, but the reality was worse. Conversations halted. Quills stilled mid-scroll. Even the lift operator, who had been friendly every morning for years, fumbled over his usual greeting.
She was no stranger to scrutiny, but this felt different. Like she had crossed an invisible line she could never uncross.
"Ah, Mrs. Malfoy, what a surprise to see you back so soon," came a slow drawl from behind her.
Hermione closed her eyes briefly before turning to face Theo Nott, his ever-present smirk firmly in place. Beside him, Blaise Zabini raised a brow in amusement.
"The honeymoon’s over, then?" Blaise mused, eyeing her carefully. "Or did Malfoy drive you back to work out of sheer stubbornness?"
Hermione lifted her chin. "Not that it’s any of your business, but some of us actually enjoy being productive members of society."
Theo chuckled, unfazed. "You wound me, Granger. Sorry—Malfoy. Still getting used to that."
She had no doubt that was intentional.
Draco
Draco had anticipated the whispers. The pointed looks. The unsubtle way people stared as if he had grown a second head.
What he hadn’t anticipated was the fact that, despite it all, he didn’t actually care.
Or at least, he told himself he didn’t.
Walking into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he felt the weight of scrutiny pressing against him, but he met each gaze with an impassive stare. His colleagues had learned long ago that staring at him too long only resulted in one thing: making them feel like they were the oddity, not him.
"Look who decided to return to civilization," came Potter’s voice, filled with its usual irritating self-righteousness. "I was beginning to think you and Hermione had fled the country."
Draco rolled his eyes as he sat at his desk. "Not all of us have the luxury of playing Auror and hero whenever we fancy, Potter. Some of us actually have work to do."
Across the room, Ron Weasley made a noise of protest. "Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?"
Draco smirked. "Exactly what it sounds like."
Harry leaned against Draco’s desk, arms crossed. "How’s Hermione?"
Draco knew what he was really asking. How is she adjusting? Is she miserable?
"Fine," he said shortly, turning his attention to the stack of paperwork awaiting him.
Harry didn’t look convinced, but before he could pry further, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted them.
"So this is where the newly domesticated Malfoy is hiding," Theo drawled, strolling into the department without a care in the world. Blaise followed behind him, looking just as amused.
Draco sighed. "What do you want, Nott?"
Theo clutched his chest dramatically. "Can’t an old friend check in on a man adjusting to wedded bliss?"
Blaise smirked. "Or lack thereof?"
Draco glared at them both. "You’re both insufferable."
"And yet, you missed us," Theo grinned, dropping into the chair across from Draco. "So tell me, how’s life as a husband? Does Granger snore? Kick in her sleep?" His eyes glinted mischievously. "Or is she the cuddly type?"
Draco tossed a paperweight at him. Theo dodged it with a laugh.
Blaise shook his head. "Come on, Nott. Let the man be. He’s clearly still in denial."
"Denial of what?" Ron asked warily.
Theo’s smirk widened. "That our dear Draco has found himself in a rather unfortunate predicament."
Ron frowned. "Which is?"
"Marriage to someone who will, inevitably, be the death of him," Theo said cheerfully. "And worst of all—he likes it."
Draco scowled, but his friends just laughed.
Hermione & Draco: The Evening After Work
Dinner was a quiet affair.
Too quiet.
Draco knew better than to trust silence with Hermione. It was deceptive, curling through the air like a predator waiting to pounce. He casually reached for the salt, only for Hermione’s hand to snatch it first.
Their gazes clashed.
"I had it first," she said smoothly, shaking a measured amount over her meal.
Draco arched a brow. "I didn’t realize we were playing by toddler rules."
Hermione smirked. "Oh, I’m sorry, did you want it?"
He leaned back, watching her with an almost lazy amusement. "Not anymore. Not after you've contaminated it."
Hermione took a slow, deliberate bite. "Afraid of a little cross-contamination, Malfoy?"
Draco took his own measured bite of food, never breaking eye contact. "If I had known you were this territorial, I would have secured my belongings with protective charms."
Hermione sipped her wine, tilting her head. "And yet, your things are always just within my reach. It’s almost as if you want me to take them."
A smirk tugged at Draco’s lips. "Or maybe I just like watching you fight for them."
Hermione let out an exasperated laugh before stabbing her fork into a piece of roasted vegetable with unnecessary force. "So this is how it’s going to be? Every night? Petty bickering over condiments?"
Draco rested his chin on his hand. "You call it petty bickering, I call it foreplay."
Hermione nearly choked on her wine.
Draco’s smirk widened in victory, but before he could revel in it too long, Hermione set her glass down with purpose. "In that case, Malfoy, you’d better brace yourself. Because I don’t lose."
He met her challenge with a gleam in his eyes. "Neither do I."
The war had begun.
And dinner would never be boring again.
After their usual bickering at dinner, they found themselves standing in their shared bedroom, the air heavier than before. Hermione hesitated before speaking.
"I suppose we should talk about sleeping arrangements."
Draco leaned against the doorframe. "Oh? Planning on kicking me out already?"
She rolled her eyes. "I meant whether or not we continue to share a bed."
Draco smirked. "Ah, so you’re offering me the bed? How generous."
Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No, Malfoy. I don’t mind sharing it."
His smirk faltered, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. "You don’t?"
Hermione glanced away before finally admitting, "I sleep better when you’re there. I—" She inhaled, steeling herself. "I don’t have nightmares when you’re next to me."
Draco was silent for a long moment before he stepped closer, voice softer than before. "That makes two of us."
Hermione looked up, startled. "You—?"
Draco exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I’ve never been a great sleeper, Granger. But somehow, when you’re there, it’s... less awful."
She studied him for a moment before nodding. "So we keep things as they are, then?"
Draco shrugged, a smirk returning to his lips. "Unless you’re planning on making a dramatic scene about it."
Hermione scoffed. "Oh, please. If anyone’s making a scene, it’s you."
Draco chuckled, pulling back the covers as he climbed into bed. Hermione followed soon after, and as the room fell into silence, something between them shifted.
Neither spoke of it. But neither pulled away, either.
End of Chapter 11