Cracks in the Ice
The days that followed settled into an unexpected rhythm—work, dinner, banter that danced dangerously close to something else entirely. They were learning to coexist, finding a strange comfort in the predictability of it all. But predictability had never been something that lasted long in either of their lives. And when cracks form in the ice, something is bound to slip through.
Hermione
Hermione had never been one to ignore tension. She could sense it brewing before it even surfaced, curling like an unwelcome storm cloud just out of sight.
And there was definitely something brewing with Draco.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye during breakfast, the way his grip tightened on his teacup, the way he kept checking his pocket watch as if he were expecting something—or dreading it.
"Are you going to tell me what’s got you acting like a caged dragon," she asked, taking a measured sip of her coffee, "or are you just going to keep brooding over there?"
Draco’s gaze flicked up to meet hers, sharp and assessing. "I don’t brood."
Hermione arched a brow. "Right. And I don’t read."
He sighed, setting his teacup down with a soft clink. "It’s nothing. Just some Ministry politics that are bound to be tedious."
She didn’t buy that for a second, but she knew better than to push—at least, not yet.
"If you say so," she murmured, watching as he stood and straightened his coat.
He hesitated at the door. "Don’t work too late."
It was a small thing, barely even a proper goodbye, but something about it lingered in her mind far longer than it should have.
Draco
Draco hated surprises. And today, he was expecting an unpleasant one.
As soon as he arrived at the Ministry, he barely had time to take his seat before he was summoned to a private meeting. Not by his superior. Not by the Minister.
By Lucius.
His father was already waiting in the dimly lit conference room, seated with the practiced elegance that made it impossible to tell whether he was pleased or furious. Perhaps both.
"Father," Draco greeted coolly, stepping inside.
Lucius studied him for a moment before speaking. "Your marriage has caused quite the stir."
Draco smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I imagine so."
Lucius’s expression didn’t change. "There are those who question where your loyalties now lie."
"Those people are idiots," Draco said flatly.
"Perhaps," Lucius conceded. "But idiots with influence are still dangerous. You’d do well to remember that."
Draco clenched his jaw. He knew the power plays at work. He knew that his father wasn’t here out of fatherly concern, but rather to ensure that his name, his legacy, remained untarnished.
"Is that why you’re here? To remind me of my duty?"
Lucius tilted his head slightly. "No. I’m here to remind you that you have a wife who is clever enough to maneuver these waters with you. Whether you choose to trust her is entirely up to you."
Draco stilled, not expecting that.
Lucius’s lips curled into something resembling amusement. "It would be a shame to lose the game simply because you refused to use all the pieces available to you."
Draco said nothing, and after a moment, his father stood and smoothed out his robes. "Do try not to make a mess of things, Draco. The world is watching."
And with that, Lucius left, his parting words curling like smoke in the air.
Hermione & Draco: The Late Night Conversation
When Draco returned to the manor that evening, he found Hermione in the sitting room, curled up with a book by the fire.
She barely looked up as she said, "You’re late."
Draco smirked, slipping off his coat. "Miss me that much?"
Hermione turned the page, utterly unbothered. "Hardly. Just noticed, that’s all."
He poured himself a drink before settling into the armchair across from her. "You always notice."
She looked up at that, something unreadable in her expression. "And you always deflect."
Draco exhaled slowly. "My father paid me a visit today."
Hermione shut her book.
"He wanted to remind me that our marriage has consequences," Draco continued. "And that people are watching."
Hermione studied him carefully. "And what do you want, Draco?"
It was such a simple question. But for a man who had spent his life living by others’ expectations, it was a loaded one.
"I want..." He hesitated. "I want to figure that out."
Hermione nodded slowly, as if she understood that answer better than she cared to admit. "Then let’s start there."
They didn’t say anything else after that.
But for the first time in a long time, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was something else entirely.
End of Chapter 12