Hermione stared contemplatively at the sight before her, where crookshanks laid perched superiorly on Draco's lap- purring as the blonde softly stroked the half kneazle's back soothingly- as he sat comfortably on one of the couches in her Head Dorm's Common Room, reading a levitated book leisurely as he did so.
It was a wonder to Hermione just why Crookshanks never got along with her best of friends. Crookshanks hated Ron and somewhat tolerated Harry, and said boys were terrified of him. Thus, it intrigued her how her familiar had built a fast friendship and fondness with her boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, who seemed to have already been in Crookshank's good graces even before they had started dating.
Draco, who had felt eyes on him, tore his eyes away from the book he was reading to give a curious look- with an eyebrow raised- at his beautiful witch.
“What is it, love?” A small grin etched his face upon seeing the adorable expression Hermione would often sport when the gears in her brain were rattling on about something she isn't putting into words.
Hermione continued to narrow her eyes in contemplation for a few more seconds, before releasing a small sigh and heading over to the empty space beside Draco. With a flick of wandless magic, Draco had closed the book he was reading, setting it aside on the coffee table before opening an arm to pull his witch close to his side- pressing a soft kiss on her temple as he did so.
“I’ve always found it odd…how you and Crookshanks get along, that is…” Hermione admitted, settling her head in the crook of his neck.
A small deep chuckle came out in response. “You think so?”
She nodded before adding, “He’s known Harry and Ron since third year yet he’s never let them near him without a scratch or two.”
“Mr. Crookshanks is a good judge of character.” Draco commented in a playful voice, to which the orange-haired half kneazle seemed to meow in agreement.
Hermione laughed lightly at that before humming in contemplation again, before musing…
“Or perhaps the two of you are quite alike.”
Silence. This time, she felt four eyes stare at her incredulously, before a scoff and a protesting meow broke the silence.
“Do I look orange to you, love? Because I’m bloody sure I’m distinctively different from that of a Weasley.” Draco responded as if offended, but the intonation of his voice lacked any real heat to it.
And strangely enough, Crookshanks meowed as if saying ‘Do I look pale, blond and pointy to you?’
Another small laugh escaped her, before she slightly pulled away to look up at Draco and meet his gleaming silver eyes that seemed to reflect her.
“I was thinking more of being both prickly, stubborn, pompous and…” she trailed in a teasing tone, to which he rolled his eyes at- a smile still gracing his face despite the playful jab.
“And..?” he raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
It was not like he could deny it, really. There was truth to that description, and he could only feel relieved and thankful that Hermione loved him in spite of it. Hermione, on the other hand, thought that such qualities- though quite off-putting to others- was what made Draco Malfoy himself. Though she hated such traits of his back when they were children, when she had actually got to know him, despite finding it quite annoying at times, she found that she mostly looked at it endearingly now. Of course, there was more to him than that, Hermione thought.
“Intelligent…”
Draco’s smile widened, nodding in agreement as if to let her continue.
“Quite loyal…”
“Very loyal, you mean.” He corrected, dropping a kiss on her forehead, before leaning on it with his own, noses touching as their lips brushed slightly.
“Sweet?”
“Nobody else but you would describe Crookshanks and I as such.”
“That’s not true. Your mother thinks the same.” Hermione thought back to the Yule she had spent with his family. She had brought Crookshanks with her to the manor, and Narcissa Malfoy, being the most perfect host you could ever ask for, had smothered the cat with the most luxurious cat bed and toys- not to mention the treats she had the elves prepare. Crookshanks, of course, was more than pleased, and if she wasn’t spending time with her and Draco, she was being pampered by the Malfoy matriarch.
“Of course she does.”
“Crookshanks seems to like her too.”
“Maybe it’s a Malfoy thing.”
“She doesn’t like Lucius very much though…” Hermione said as an afterthought, with a small frown, remembering how Crookshanks glared at him whilst sitting proudly beside Narcissa with his tail wagging in displeasure. Narcissa, on the other hand, could only look amused, holding back a small smile as she looked between her husband and Crookshanks. It was intriguing how the former head of the Malfoy household was in a war of intimidation with a half-kneazle (and losing).
“Again, Mr. Crookshanks is a good judge of character.” Draco murmured.
“Draco…” Hermione had a small pout etched on her face yet the upward twitch on the corners of her mouth hinted that he wasn’t exactly wrong.
He could only shrug nonchalantly in response. Although he was relieved that Hermione and his father seemed to have found some kind of truce and acceptance with each other- going as far as to having the occasional tea time to talk about literature and politics, Draco still kept him at arm’s length. He loved his father, but he still couldn’t let go of the resentment that slowly festered inside of him since his childhood. The feelings of inadequacy, of having to strive to prove his worth, the bitterness and indignation of having to bear the consequences of his father’s wrong decisions- forcing him to become a death eater to save his beloved mother- and worst of all, indoctrinating him with blood purity rubbish that not only put him on the wrong side of the war, but had led him to hurt the most beautiful and most brilliant witch to ever walk his path.
He could only blame himself for his own actions, yet there were times where his mind would wander and ask what if he had never believed such bigotry? He wouldn’t have hurt her. Perhaps they could’ve been friends, and they would’ve fallen in love sooner, would have asked her to the Yule Ball instead of Krum. He wouldn’t have been on the opposite side of the war and he would’ve fought alongside her. He wouldn’t have to carry the guilt of letting death eaters into Hogwarts, and he wouldn’t have to carry the burden of attempting to kill Albus Dumbledore.
“Draco? Love?” A soothing and gentle voice snapped him out of his reverie, his dazed eyes focusing back onto the beautiful brown orbs that had glints of golden specks look at him with both tenderness and worry.
His witch reached a hand out to caress his cheek, her thumb gliding over his cheekbones as she did so. Draco melted into her touch, closing his eyes momentarily as he felt his heart sink into tranquility at the warmth, before opening once more to see his reflection in her eyes.
“Where did you go?” She softly whispered.
A small furtive sigh escaped his lips. It was a thought that he had often felt conflicted with, something they had talked about again and again- to the point that he was scared that she’d feel it to be so redundant that she’d tire of hearing it. But he knew Hermione would never think that. Besides, he couldn’t hide anything from her. Nor did he want to. Ever. That was one thing they had agreed on in their relationship.
No secrets. Communication. Honesty.
“I can’t seem to fully forgive him, Hermione.” he admitted quietly, a hint of pain stained his voice.
Hermione nodded for him to continue, her other hand reaching up to the base of his neck, stroking the soft tufts of hair- something she always did to calm him down, a touch that assured him that she was there with him, listening, never leaving his side.
“Why did it have to take another bloody war for him to admit that he was wrong? Why did it have to take my mum and I being tortured for him to realize? Why did I…” Draco felt his voice tremble, before he whispered painfully…
“Why did I believe him for so long and realize it too late?”
“Just because I wanted his approval…just because I wanted to prove to people that I was a worthy heir…that I was…that I was worth..”
“Worthy to be his son…worthy of his love…of being loved.”
Draco felt a few tears roll off his eyes, ones he had allowed to fall freely.
“Oh, Draco” Hermione whispered, wiping the tears that obscured his view, anguished at seeing her wizard bare his raw emotions.
Perhaps it was easier for her to forgive Lucius since she had barely interacted with the man, compared to Draco who spent his whole life trying to please him, trying to live up to his expectations, and consequently, suffering from his father’s actions. Hermione knew his father loved him, and Draco loved him too, but there were still so many wounds that are yet to be treated and healed between the two- and such things took time and effort to mend. It couldn’t happen in an instance.
And so, really, the only thing she could do was to stay, listen, and assure him.
“You don’t have to force yourself to forgive him right away. And it’s alright to feel that you don’t want to.”
“And if I never forgive him…?”
“That’s alright as well.”
Hermione felt him raise and eyebrow at that. Draco knew how forgiving Hermione was despite her petty tendencies. She was the type of person to forgive the foulest person alive and offer him kindness. It was a trait he both loved but at the same time felt frustrated with- love, because it was what brought them together and frustrated, because she forgave people who didn’t deserve it.
Like him. Like his father.
But she chose to anyway.
“Shouldn’t you tell me to give him a chance..? That he’s trying? He’s changed?” He asked bewildered.
“It isn’t my place to decide that, Draco. But if you think that, then maybe there’s a part of you that’s willing to leave the door open for forgiveness.”
“And…what if he…if he thinks that I’m…”
‘A disappointment.’ he didn’t dare finish it out loud, but he knew that Hermione knew what he had left unsaid as she kissed away the fresh tears that rolled off his cheeks once more.
One thing that plagued Draco was the fear that his father, at the back of his mind, considered him as a disappointment. There was still that part of him that felt insecure. Unworthy. Undeserving. That he only had his family name to boast about- and now, even that had fallen into ruin.
“Draco, do you trust me?”
He nodded without hesitation.
“Yes. Without a doubt.”
“I know you should hear this from him…but I can confidently tell you that your father…he truly does love you.” She told him softly, but with conviction- as if it was a fact, something she undoubtedly believed.
A part of him didn’t believe it, another part of him was hopeful, while the logical side of him argued that his girlfriend was the Brightest Witch of Her Age and that when she spoke of something with complete certainty she was probably ninety-nine point nine percent right.
Besides, if Hermione thought otherwise, she wouldn’t bother even talking to his father. As forgiving as she was, she wasn’t a pushover nor was she the type to try to please people who hated her or the people she loved- especially those she deemed unworthy. He knew what it was like being on both sides. He had a slight crook on his nose as remembrance when she punched him in third year. And well…as for the other side, she quite literally decked Cormac McLaggen when he had harassed him for being “Death Eater Scum” and that he should’ve been thrown in Azkaban- though his self-depreciating self had agreed with such sentiment, Hermione did not and that was before they even started dating.
“You’re worthy of being loved, Draco. Even back then, from the moment you started existing, even more so now, in the present, and most definitely so in the future.” She whispered, pressing their foreheads together.
Draco felt a small sob escape him.
Although it didn’t completely wash away his guilt, his sins and his insecurities. It was enough to calm the raging storm within him, the turmoil that seemed to burn in his stomach, and the anxiety that strangled his lungs. She was the only one who could ever give him such peace, such assurance, such calm.
Pulling away slightly, glassy silver eyes met clear and warm brown eyes that gleamed with gold.
“I love you. I love you, Draco.” She uttered in a clear voice with no room for argument or hesitation- as if she was stating the most objective and most absolute truth there could ever be.
Draco momentarily felt as if air had left his lungs and when he breathed in, a lighter and more freeing air engulfed him. He felt his heart accelerate upon hearing her words, before it simmered down as each syllable sunk in. It wasn’t the first time she’s told him, yet the exhilaration and fluttery giddiness he felt was all the same.
“I love you. I love you, Hermione.”
Draco leaned down further, an arm wrapping around her back with his hand cradling her head closer to his, fingers softly tangling with the ringlets of her soft curls, before his lips finally met hers for a scorching yet delicate kiss.
And just like every kiss they shared, it was breathtaking and all-consuming. As their lips molded together, their faces angling to deepen their connection, tongues dancing to explore each other, it didn’t matter whether their kiss was sweet and chaste, hungry and desperate, or passionate and soul-bearing, it had always left them vulnerable yet captivated with one another.
And just like that, everything felt alright. Because unlike before, she was by his side and he on hers, and he knew they’d do everything in their power to keep it that way.
Suddenly, in the midst of their snogging, a small little meow, one that seemed asking- and if he was being a little far-fetched, a meow laced with slight asking worry was heard, and simultaneously, he felt a small little pats of a paw on his thigh where Crookshanks sat.
Hermione and him paused, out of breath as they regretfully pulled away from one another to glance at the orange furball that looked at Draco earnestly- an expression he would only usually ever grace his owner.
“It seems Crooksie is quite worried about you.” She softly whispered, afraid that the feline might hear and deny his obvious concern in a pre-dating Draco Malfoy-esque fashion. Another similarity of theirs, Hermione noted, but decided to keep to herself.
A small helpless chuckle escaped Draco, coming out slightly raspy after his short bout of crying- to which he would later deny as “allergies” once they set off for prefect rounds that night.
Nobody but his witch and Mr. Crookshanks had to know of his vulnerability anyway.
Although Crookshanks and him did, indeed, get along well, it was the first time the cat had expressed concern for him- something he only ever had with Hermione and no one else. Draco felt a little honored. That meant the little beast acknowledged him as Hermione’s equal- as her partner, and hopefully, possibly- her lifetime significant other.
Draco reached out his free hand once more to give Crookshanks a gentle pat on his head and a little scratch behind his ear that made the feline purr in delight. Hermione giggled and cooed seeing the interaction.
“Crookshanks loves you too. Isn’t that right, Crooksie?”
Another meow of agreement was heard before the furball continued its purring, its head propped against Draco’s thigh as it did so.
A laugh escaped Draco, very much elated and pleased- maybe slightly more so when he had met her parents who were skeptical of him at first (knowing he was the cause of her misery in their early years in Hogwarts) and he had finally won over in the course of Easter break. Mr. Crookshanks, after all, was more finicky when it came to approval, and to be acknowledged at the same level as his owner was impossible.
Hermione looked back up to him sporting the smile he loved the most, the one where her dimple would show and her eyes would crinkle into crescents. The one where he couldn’t help but want to pepper kisses all over her face, on each freckle that decorated her delicate face, on every feature that she possessed- as if he wanted to memorize every part of her face.
And that was exactly what he did. He planted soft and playful kisses all over her face, making her giggle in delight- a sound he found very pleasing to his ears.
“Perhaps I can concede that Mr. Crookshanks and I share some qualities.” Draco drawled, his fingers still playing with the ringlets of her beautiful curls.
“Yeah? Even the stubborn and prickly thing?”
“Debatable.”
“It’s really not. It’s the most defining, love.”
“I think the most defining is both loving the most brilliant witch to exist named Hermione Granger.” He smiled at her cheekily, yet his eyes spoke of sincerity- a look that was impossible for her to miss. A look that definitely made her heart melt and her stomach fill with butterflies.
‘And both despise the Weasel and tolerate the “Boy Who Lived Not Once But Twice Because He Couldn’t Stay Dead Much To A Noseless Wanker’s Chagrin”’ Draco thought, but had decided to keep such sentiments to himself since he’d never hear the end of it.
Then again, she had already partly accepted the fact that he could only try to be civil and ‘nice’ (subjective) with her friends- particularly the two thirds of the “Golden Trio” since the two hated his guts back. Harry Potter, he could tolerate. He wasn’t all that bad, really, perhaps remnants of being each other’s childhood nemesis made it difficult to not automatically sneer or glare at each other’s direction. Ronald Weasley- or as Draco would term “Weaselbee”- was a different matter.
Other than the fact that he was the most annoying and most ill-tempered Weasley, or that he was his witch’s ex-boyfriend (a fact he hated remembering, but when he would remember, he would console himself that at least he wasn’t her first boyfriend- but then again he hated her first boyfriend Krum all the same- though he was more tolerable), the red-headed man hated him to his very core.
He wasn’t sure whether it was because he was a Malfoy, or if it was because he used to be a Death Eater, or if it was because he was dating Hermione, or it was all three together, but he felt an animosity so great from the man that he couldn’t help but despise him back. And for some odd reason, when he had first met Mr. Crookshanks, he held the same feelings for the ginger-head.
He would later find out from Hermione how he had antagonized the half kneazle back in their third year for killing his not-exactly-a-rat-after-all pet who turned out to be a death eater that betrayed his best mate’s parents- ultimately leading to their death. Mr. Crookshanks probably saw right through the “rat” and deemed it as a danger to Hermione- and frankly, he couldn’t blame the feline for holding a grudge against the Weasel. He was only trying to protect his owner after all, and he was deemed as “just a bloody barmy old cat”, he had sympathized with Crookshanks (both out of spite and understanding).
Perhaps that was what brought Crookshanks and him together. Their shared disposition towards Weaselbee.
“You still haven't told me how you and Crooksie get along so well. Even before we started dating.” Hermione, ever the curious witch, reminded, as she turned and laid her back against his chest, resting her head under his chin as she brought his free hand to intertwine with hers.
“I first met Mr. Crookshanks in the courtyard the day after term started. Incidentally, he was on Weaselbee's-”
Hermione shot him a look. “Ahem. Ronald Weasley- i mean- he was on his head scratching and terrorizing the poor lad.”
A proud meow was heard- as if confirmation that he had, in fact, meant to terrorize the ginger, that the words of the blonde wizard were exact and precise.
“I may or may not have cheered him on and gave him treats in return.”
Draco braced for a scolding but instead felt a rumble of small and fond laughter from her as she shook her head. Draco took this as a sign to continue.
“We formed a partnership- and later, friendship in return. Isn't that right, Mr. Crookshanks?”
Another meow of confirmation was heard before the orange-haired feline continued its previous purring.
“Start of term…ah…” Hermione nodded in understanding before laughing again, this time as if she recalled something quite funny.
“Hm? What is it?”
“Ronald was still being an arse at the time, grumbling about how Harry and I decided to return to Hogwarts instead of jumping on Kingsley's job offers. He said that he felt ‘complied’ to go and it was a waste of time.”
“Got on both of our nerves actually. Then the three of us had a row with him that night. He said some awful things to both Harry and I. Said he'd rather get- as he so eloquently put it- throttled and thrashed by my bloody barmy cat than apologize.”
A small growl was heard at the recollection- with Crookshanks staring and glaring off into an empty space as if he was recalling the said events.
“What a good boy, Mr. Crookshanks! He deserves much more credit. Bloody wonderful familiar if I may say so myself.”
Draco complimented in sincere awe. Other than the fact that the feline seemed to understand human conversation, he was truly an intelligent and loyal familiar. Draco suddenly had a newfound respect and fondness for the orange haired half kneazle.
A smug meow that seemed to relish in flattery was heard. Draco continued petting the proud familiar, allowing it to continue its satisfied purring.
“You're the only one who would say that. The entirety of Gryffindor Tower is terrified of him.” Hermione giggled, placing a small kiss on his jaw.
Draco looked down to meet her eyes once more before reciprocating with a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose.
“As they should.”