Chapter 5
The days that followed passed in a blur of activity and distraction. Hermione threw herself into her work at the Ministry, her desk piled high with files, reports, and proposals for her charity. She busied herself with meetings, briefings, and phone calls, determined to drown out the nagging thoughts that crept in whenever she paused.
But no matter how hard she worked, the memory of that afternoon at the hotel haunted her. The kiss, the connection they had shared, and the undeniable chemistry lingered like a shadow, darkening her mood. Each time she saw Draco at the Ministry, she felt a rush of emotions—guilt, longing, and a strange sense of loss.
Hermione had always prided herself on her ability to compartmentalize, but this was different. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, and it left her feeling unsettled. She couldn’t confide in anyone about what had happened. Not Ginny, not Harry, and certainly not Ron. The shame weighed heavily on her, a constant reminder of how she had let her heart lead her astray.
Her coworkers noticed her distraction. Hermione could feel their concerned glances and whispers as she rushed through her tasks, but she brushed them off, plastering on a smile when she needed to. “I’m just busy,” she would say, convincing herself more than anyone else.
But the truth was that every time she sat in a meeting, every time she heard Draco’s name mentioned, a pang of sadness shot through her. She missed the connection they had, the laughter and the moments of vulnerability, but she also resented it. It felt like a betrayal—not only to Astoria and Scorpius but also to herself.
As she returned home each evening, the silence of her flat was deafening. She often found herself staring out the window, watching the rain fall in gentle sheets, lost in thought. The world continued to move outside, but inside, she felt trapped in a storm of her own making.
“Get a grip, Hermione,” she muttered one night, pacing the length of her living room. “You’re a strong woman. You can’t let this consume you.”
But her own words felt hollow. The truth was, she didn’t know how to let go of what had happened. She didn’t know how to forget the way Draco had looked at her, the way he had made her feel seen and understood.
With a frustrated sigh, she sank onto the couch, grabbing a book from the shelf in a feeble attempt to escape her thoughts. She flipped through the pages, but the words swam before her eyes, blending together in an unreadable haze.
It was late when she finally put the book down, the weight of her thoughts settling heavily in her chest. She felt as if she were carrying a burden, a secret that was slowly suffocating her. And every time she glanced at her phone, she found herself hesitating, wondering if she should reach out to Draco, but ultimately deciding against it.
She couldn’t risk further complicating things. Not when she was already so entangled in confusion and regret.
Hermione had just settled down with a cup of tea when a sudden knock at her door made her jump. It was an unexpected sound, one she wasn’t prepared for. Her heart raced as she approached the door, glancing through the peephole to see Draco standing there, his expression a mix of determination and uncertainty.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she opened the door. “Draco,” she said, her voice slightly shaky. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you,” he replied, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The door clicked shut behind him, and they were engulfed in silence for a moment, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging in the air.
Hermione crossed her arms, instinctively trying to create a barrier between them. “About what happened?” she asked, her heart pounding in her chest.
Draco nodded, his gaze serious. “Yes. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. About us.”
“What us, Draco?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “You’re married. You have a son.”
“I know,” he said, his voice firm but laced with a hint of vulnerability. “But I don’t regret a thing. Not the kiss, not the time we spent together.”
Hermione felt her heart twist at his words. “You don’t regret it? You really don’t see how complicated this is?”
Draco stepped closer, his grey eyes searching hers. “I understand it’s complicated, but that doesn’t change what I feel. There’s something real between us, Hermione.”
“But what about Astoria?” she pressed, her voice rising slightly. “She’s been nothing but kind to me, and you have a son! Do you really want to throw that away?”
Draco ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his posture. “Astoria is a good woman, and I care about her. But that doesn’t mean I can just ignore what’s happening between us. You know it’s different.”
Hermione shook her head, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You’re being selfish, Draco. I don’t want to hurt anyone, least of all Astoria. She’s been supportive, and I can’t just ignore that.”
He stepped back, his expression softening. “I’m not trying to be selfish. I’m just being honest. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. I didn’t expect to connect with you this way.”
“That’s the problem,” she said, her voice trembling. “You can’t just ignore the consequences of our actions. We have to think about the people who will get hurt.”
Draco looked down, guilt washing over his features. “I know you’re right. But I can’t help what I feel, Hermione. I’ve never felt this kind of connection with anyone else.”
The room was heavy with tension as they stood facing each other, the emotions swirling around them like an unbreakable bond. Hermione’s heart ached, torn between what she felt for him and the reality of their circumstances.
“Maybe it was just a moment,” she suggested, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe we should just… let it go.”
“Can we?” Draco asked, his voice filled with a desperate sincerity. “Can we really just pretend it didn’t happen? Because I don’t think I can. I don’t want to.”
Hermione looked away, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just think about it,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I don’t want to lose you, Hermione. Not like this.”
Her heart ached at his words, but the thought of continuing this would lead to more pain for everyone involved. “Draco…”
“I’m not asking for anything right now,” he interrupted gently. “I just want you to know how I feel. I want you in my life, even if it’s complicated.”
“I need time,” she finally replied, her voice trembling. “I need to figure out what this means.”
Draco nodded, understanding reflected in his eyes. “I’ll give you time. Just… don’t shut me out completely.”
As he turned to leave, Hermione felt a pang of regret. “Draco,” she called softly, making him pause at the door.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful,” she warned, her heart heavy. “You have a family.”
He nodded, a somber expression crossing his face. “I know. And I’ll think about everything you’ve said.”
With that, he stepped out, leaving Hermione alone in her flat once more, her heart a tumult of emotions. She sank onto the couch, tears streaming down her face as she grappled with the reality of their situation—the deep connection she felt for him and the insurmountable barriers that stood in their way.
The next day, Hermione found herself standing outside the grand entrance of Malfoy International Potions Trade, her heart racing with a mix of anticipation and fear. The sleek, modern building loomed before her, a symbol of Draco’s success and wealth, but today it felt more like a threshold she was about to cross.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The receptionist greeted her with a warm smile, and before long, she was escorted to Draco's office.
As she entered, the sight of him—sitting behind his impressive desk, reviewing documents—made her heart skip a beat. He looked up, and their eyes locked, a familiar spark igniting between them.
“Granger,” he said, standing up and moving around the desk to meet her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I know,” she replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. “I just… I needed to talk to you.”
“About yesterday?” Draco asked, his tone cautious yet hopeful.
“Yes.” She took a step closer, feeling the weight of her decision settle in her chest. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about us.”
Draco’s expression shifted, a flicker of hope crossing his features. “And?”
“And I can’t pretend that what happened between us didn’t matter,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It did. And I want to explore it.”
Draco stepped closer, his intensity making her pulse race. “You mean… you want this? You want to be with me?”
“Yes,” she said, her heart pounding. “But it has to be a secret. I can’t hurt Astoria or Scorpius. I won’t.”
He nodded, a mix of relief and excitement washing over him. “I understand. We can keep it between us. Whatever we have, it will be ours.”
As she stood there, a thrill of danger coursed through her veins. She was aware of the risks—the lies, the betrayal—but the connection she felt with Draco was undeniable. It was intoxicating.
“Then let’s not waste any more time,” Draco said, stepping even closer.
Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as he reached out to cup her face, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down her spine, igniting a fire within her that she couldn’t resist.
“I’ve wanted this since the moment I kissed you,” he confessed, his voice low and husky.
In that instant, all her doubts and fears faded into the background. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of stolen moments.
Without thinking, she leaned into him, and he closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. It was electric, filled with the heat of desire and the urgency of everything they had been holding back.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she deepened the kiss, and she felt Draco pull her closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly. The taste of him—fresh and intoxicating—drove her wild, and she lost herself in the moment, savoring the way he made her feel alive.
Time seemed to stand still as they kissed, their worries and the outside world forgotten. But the reality of their situation loomed just beyond the door, and a small voice in the back of her mind warned her of the consequences.
Eventually, they pulled apart, both breathless and slightly dazed. Draco’s eyes were filled with a mixture of desire and something deeper, something that sent a thrill of apprehension through her.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low. “I don’t want to put you in a position you’re uncomfortable with.”
Hermione nodded, her heart racing. “I’m sure. But we need to be careful. This has to remain our secret.”
“Absolutely,” he promised, a grin spreading across his face. “I won’t let anyone know.”
With that, they shared another quick kiss, stealing moments of affection between them before pulling apart again. Reality was creeping back in, but for now, they had chosen to embrace the chaos of their feelings.
“I should go before anyone notices I’m here,” she said reluctantly, taking a step back.
“Meet me tonight?” Draco asked, his expression hopeful. “I can’t stay away from you.”
“Tonight,” she confirmed, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. “But we’ll be discreet.”
“Of course,” he replied, watching her with an intensity that made her heart race.
As she left his office, the weight of their decision hung heavily in the air. Hermione knew she was stepping into uncharted territory, and though part of her felt exhilarated, another part of her couldn’t shake the feeling of impending consequences.
But for now, all that mattered was the secret they were willing to share.
Later that night, Hermione paced her living room, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the walls. The atmosphere was intimate and charged, filled with anticipation as she prepared for Draco's arrival. She had prepared a simple dinner—pasta with fresh vegetables and a bottle of wine—each detail a small attempt to create a cozy, clandestine space for them to escape the realities of their lives.
When the knock came at the door, her heart raced, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through her veins. She opened it to find Draco standing there, a bouquet of vibrant flowers in his hand, his expression brightening her evening instantly.
“For you,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he handed her the flowers.
“Draco, they’re beautiful,” she said, taking them and inhaling their sweet fragrance. She felt a warmth spread through her at the thoughtfulness of his gesture. “Come in.”
As he stepped inside, she quickly shut the door behind him, the sound of the lock clicking echoing the finality of their decision.
Dinner was relaxed, filled with laughter and easy conversation, but beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of tension—an awareness of the secret they were sharing. Hermione served them both, the warmth of the pasta filling the room with a comforting aroma.
“So, how was your day?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his gaze locked onto hers.
“It was busy, as usual,” she replied, twirling her fork through the pasta. “But I kept thinking about tonight. I didn’t know if you would actually come.”
“Of course I would,” he said, his tone earnest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
As they continued to eat, the conversation flowed easily, but Hermione felt a weight in the air. She needed to address the elephant in the room—the precariousness of their situation.
“Draco,” she said, setting her fork down and looking him in the eye. “We need to talk about what this means. No one can know about us.”
His expression grew serious. “I agree. If anyone finds out, it could ruin our reputations, our lives. We have to be careful.”
“I can’t hurt Astoria or Scorpius,” she said, her voice firm but trembling slightly. “And I don’t want to be the reason your family falls apart.”
Draco nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. “I don’t want that either. But what we have… it’s real, Hermione. I can’t just walk away from it.”
Hermione felt her heart swell at his words, a mix of fear and excitement. “Neither can I. But we need to keep it hidden, no matter how difficult it gets.”
“Agreed,” he replied, his voice low and serious.
With the weight of their conversation hanging in the air, the mood shifted. The intimacy between them intensified, and before she could think too much about the implications, Draco reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers.
She felt a spark of electricity at his touch, and without thinking, she leaned in closer. “Draco…”
He didn’t need her to say more. In an instant, he was standing up and moving around the table, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a fervent kiss, deep and passionate, igniting the fire they had both been trying to control.
Hermione melted against him, her hands finding their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, filled with urgency and longing, a desperate need to connect despite the risks.
They broke apart, breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. “This feels right,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
“Yes,” she replied, her heart racing. “But we need to be cautious.”
“Caution is overrated,” he said with a teasing grin, but the seriousness in his eyes belied his playful tone. “I want to be with you, Hermione. Even if it’s just like this, in secret.”
“Me too,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “But we have to be careful. We can’t let our feelings cloud our judgment.”
“Agreed,” he replied, pulling her in for another kiss, the passion of their connection overwhelming.
As they kissed, Draco's hands began to roam Hermione's body, exploring the curves he had fantasized about for so long. He traced the outline of her breasts through her shirt, feeling her nipples harden beneath his touch. Hermione gasped softly into his mouth, arching into his hands.