Chapter 2
Six weeks of healing was a long time. Six weeks until he would be cleared and officially allowed to be captain of England for the World Cup. Six weeks where he would be with a physical therapist that probably hated his guts because they knew no different than Draco is supposedly a cheat. They’d probably make his life hell; Merlin they could even say they are helping him and the full time they are just making his leg worse. The unknown was a little terrifying.
Draco followed his morning routine like every other day. He might not be signed off to play a major tournament, but as long as he could catch a ball and ride a broom, he could still lead his team. He didn’t work hard, harder than he knew any of them had, to not be allowed to help them flourish. He stepped in the shower, steaming hot as usual to help loosen up his muscles for training. Breakfast was the same, porridge with honey and eggs on the side. He decided eventually on scrambled. Grabbing his stuff, he Flooed to the quidditch pitch.
“Malfoy, eye on the ball!” Ginny Potter screamed over the pitch.
“Remember your own side, Malfoy!” Coach Deakins’ voice barrelled through the air.
Draco mentally chastised himself before flipping both parties off in his head. An hour into practise and he had been yelled at from everyone. The bloody substitutes even had something to say about his performance. Thankfully, he did have a dodgy leg to blame the distraction on, which kept his teammates from asking too many questions. The real culprit: his stupidly beautiful, drop dead gorgeous, absolute idiot of an ex-wife. Well, the ‘ex’ part of it wasn’t entirely true since legally they were still bound. Nevertheless, Hermione Granger had occupied his thoughts for most of the morning.
The way her hair was still just as wild as he remembered it, the curls cascading down her back so perfectly messy. The curve of her hips and the way they dipped ever so slightly in, Hermione was always insecure about that but Merlin, he loved it. The way her left, always the left nostril flared when she got angry and overwhelmed. Her funny, drunken walk. Her mouth on his lips. Gods, he just loved her. And she didn’t believe a word that came from his mouth.
The players wound down after training, some conversations taking place, some gulping their water down. Draco just sat on the bench, staring. At nothing in particular.
“Draco, a word?” Coach asked in the earshot of everyone. Draco’s head shot to the formidable man. Please don’t sack me was all Draco could think. He followed him over a few metres of the grassy pitch, avoiding the holes made by bludgers that had been sent tumbling to the ground.
“Look son,” Coach began, looking in Draco’s eyes with that hard expression of his. “It’s not been an easy year for you, I think we can all see that. I’m not judging by what goes on outside of this pitch but when that stuff starts to affect your performance well, it becomes my business.” He sighed. “When we fly out over those crowds, I know there’s not a feeling like it. When we win, there’s not a muggle drug that could make you higher than what you feel in that second. So, no matter what’s going on in that personal life of yours, I need you to leave it on the ground. Don’t bring it out here onto the pitch with you.”
Draco nodded firmly, just once. “Yes Coach.”
“Get your arse home. I’ll see you tomorrow with a clearer head.” A requirement if you want to lead this team, his eyes almost said. The man was stern yes but caring in his own way. He knew that he looked out for the best interests of the team.
Draco left with his head down, ducking away from the sights of his teammates.
He returned home, no – not a home now. Not now she was gone. It was just some bricks now and empty rooms to him. A place to sleep and nothing more. When they were married, Draco and Hermione made the decision together not to move into the historical, albeit moody, Malfoy Manor.
They wanted to go to the Manor, at first. It was almost a given from the moment they announced their engagement. However, throughout their relationship, Hermione spent every waking moment trying to get over her trauma attached to the Manor. It took time, patience, and a strong love to get through it. She did of course, Hermione Granger could do anything she put her mind to, but it wasn’t the move for them. After some looking, Draco bought his own smaller version of Malfoy Manor in the Cotswolds, surrounded by farmers’ fields and unoccupied land for as far as the eye could see. It was perfect. Quiet. Their own little world tucked away in a corner.
Hermione had more than enough space in the biggest spare bedroom for a makeshift library, not two stories like the Manor but she compromised easily. There was also seven other extra bedrooms she could put some more in if necessary. A huge back garden complete with a pond and fish she didn’t exactly want but fed, nonetheless. With so much free land round them, Hermione added a side garden as well. Complete with loads of different patches surrounding a greenhouse, allowing her to grow lots of different herbs – both magical and muggle – which quickly became her favourite hobby.
He still tended to it. Well, as best as he could. He knew very little about muggle plants but he did pay attention to Herbology in his earlier years so he could at least keep the magical ones alive. Hanging onto life. It was basically the same thing. Surprisingly he managed to keep the berry bushes alive, or the rain did, but he would take the credit if it got him back in the good books of some measure.
He stood at the steps of the house, just looking. Thinking about when everything went wrong and how he quite literally did not have a choice in the matter.
August 2006
“Malfoy! Your girl’s waiting out front,” Clark shouted from the third post.
“I’ll have you know this bludger will be in your skull if you refer to her as my ‘girl’ again. Two more laps, passing the quaffle diagonally. I feel like we’re needing a bit more practise in that region.”
“You keep this up and you’ll no longer be acting captain,” Ginny called.
“That’s the plan, Red.” Draco sped off on his broom without another glance back. A shower would be necessary, it was a bad call to be seen this sweaty by the love of your life. The locker rooms were in dire need of attention, maybe burned down and rebuilt in all honesty. One of the first moves when he had secured England’s captaincy.
It had been a long road, trying to redeem his name under the doom and gloom that was the ex-Death Eater thing. Hermione had seen past it though. Had looked under the thing that he carried on his back – his left wrist more accurately. A year leaving Hogwarts, he lived under a stained glass of death and torture and the horrible inexcusable things that happened for so many years. That saw his soulmate in turmoil and fight mode always. When he made the team, people stopped coming to the games. They were penalised, more than was deemed fairly by England’s coach. It faded though, when they realised his potential. Realised that England had a very good chaser. A chance to win.
“You cannot be sweating that much. Flying in the sky you’d think it would dry you in,” Hermione teased, standing in the lobby of the training centre.
He wrapped his arms around her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’ve showered, thank you Miss Smartie Pants. I didn’t want to waste time casting all sorts of drying charms when you were waiting all alone for me.”
“Always the gentleman my love. Did you have any plans?”
“I am going to safely assume we do now?”
“I thought we could spend the night at mine because there’s no training tomorrow.” Her doe eyes looked up at him.
“Of course we can. Tomorrow we do have plans though.”
“I know, fancy restaurant of the month. It’s in my calendar.”
Fancy dinner of the month had been created after the tenth time Hermione had witnessed a bill over two hundred galleons. It made no difference to him, but she minded. Whenever he refused her reimbursement she went on a mad tangent, and it was difficult to get her to stop. So, he caved. Mainly due to the fact he didn’t want her voice to go above three octaves than it should be. He had sensitive hearing and by this point he would lose it by the time he was forty.
They made their way to Hermione’s small flat in muggle London. She started renting it not long after the end of their eighth year in Hogwarts. It was a cosy one bedroom, with more than enough space for her and close to everything she needed. It was without a Floo of course, being in a muggle building it was difficult and probably expensive to have one. Thank Merlin there was no limit on apparition.
“I confess I knew you’d probably say yes. I started cooking earlier,” Hermione admitted.
“I’m looking forward to it.” And he was, Draco was not proud to admit he had learned a fair few cooking skills from her.
Twenty minutes later, they were seated at her small table and digging in.
“How was your training?” Hermione asked, sipping her wine.
“Good, I think we need to be pushing harder but no one wants to hear it. I’m ready for sitting back and letting someone else try and captain them.”
“You can push them. You know they all looked to you when McGinn left, and the coach seems to be rooting for it. I’m sure the board will decide to choose you.”
It was complete stupidity how the national captains were chosen. The England team was funded privately and as a consequence all the power didn’t lie with the coach in the end. Everything from team positions to sportwear had to go through the board.
“The board don’t like my past, Hermione,” Draco whispered regrettably.
Hermione softly put her cutlery down, stopping everything to look at him. “They know who you are now. They know your heart now. You have more than proved yourself to be a good man, Draco. You have put your heart and soul into this and shown them who you are in every way that matters. I love you for the man you were, the man you are and the man I know you’re going to be.”
“Can you get up and say that to them?” Draco laughed. “I love you.”
“You’ll prove it on your own, I believe in you.” Hermione cheekily stole the last bite of food from his plate. “And, I love you.”
Draco woke up early the following morning, earlier than Hermione for once. He softly made his way out of bed, trying not to wake the sleeping witch beside him. They had elected to leave the washing to the morning, Draco being exhausted the main reason. He never thought he’d be standing in the kitchen of a muggle flat, washing dishes in a muggle way. And he never thought he’d be more than happy to be doing it. A quick shower later he was right as rain and back in the kitchen making it messy again with his attempt at oatmeal pancakes.
“Something smells like its burning, and not a good burning,” Hermione said from the door. She was dressed in an old Slytherin jersey that had Draco’s morning wood threatening to reappear.
“Yes, well the pancakes decided to just light themselves on fire. Blame the pan – I am not to blame for this fuck up.”
She laughed; the sweetest laugh Draco had ever heard. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and he was immediately enveloped by the sweet vanilla and jasmine scent of her.
“I thought you’d run off home, sick of me already.”
“Never, my love. I wanted to get a head start on some breakfast for once but now I’m thinking about the bagel place down the street.”
“That sounds fun, I think we should definitely go there. First I need a shower, badly. Someone had me sweating profusely last night.”
“I wonder who,” Draco said innocently. “You slept a lot better for it though, did you not?”
She hummed aloud as she walked away, discarding the jersey just before the door. This woman will be the end of me one day.
After their impromptu breakfast date, Draco had returned back to the Manor with one important job to do: See his mother and obtain the Gringotts key for the Malfoy vaults.
“Dragon, what are you doing here? I thought that you’d be with our Hermione,” Narcissa called from the conservatory.
‘Our Hermione’ made his heart soften. His mother had not once disagreed with his decision to date Hermione. If his father had been here, he’d like to have thought that Lucius agreed all the same.
“Good morning to you too, Mother. I’m just coming from hers; I need a favour.”
This made Narcissa quirk a brow – her interest clearly piqued.
“If you have the time, could we visit Gringotts?” Narcissa looked at him from her oversized chair in the corner. She put her magazine down, removing the small spectacles she now needed to read the small writing.
“It’s that time?” Her voice cracked a little. Narcissa was always the one who held herself together and to see that façade fracture a little shocked him. He only nodded. “Well dragon, it seems we need to visit Diagon Alley.”
It was busier than usual, abnormally so. It wasn’t until he had seen Ollivander’s reopened wand shop he realised why. “Oh Merlin, kids are school shopping.”
“Yes, it would appear they are.” Narcissa straightened her back ever so slightly.
Gringotts was swamped with families withdrawing galleons to cover school supplies, families opening accounts for their children and the odd person coming in with a lot of gold. After a long queue, a goblin finally showed them to their vault and allowed them passage. The Malfoy vault was one of the largest that Gringotts had. Not just for the amount of galleons – most of that was held up in stocks and shares of various businesses here and abroad – but the seemingly endless amount of jewels. Stuff from his parents to his great-great-great grandparents and more, the choices of bling were not slim in the slightest. Really, he didn’t even want to think of the amount the pieces were worth. But of course, they would never be sold.
“I think the pieces Septimus bought are lovely, they scream simplicity in the nicest way.”
“Mother, that diamond alone could buy Hogwarts,” Draco scoffed.
“Yes, but it’s one with one diamond. Not twelve.” A fair point. They circled the room, looking at various necklaces and bracelets and rings. “Draco, what about Nicholas and Cassiopeia’s collection?”
He noticed the small diamond in the corner, barely visible from the necklace stealing all the shine beside it. “It’s perfect.”
Since being with Hermione, Draco now had access to a mobile phone. A simple one which he didn’t have to press too many buttons. He had to admit that they were a little more convenient than a patronus or a letter sent by owl guaranteed to probably arrive late. He quickly texted Ginny, who was in on a little plan of his.
Hi Red, Granger there?
Hi Ferret, yes I have her kidnapped. We’re in the Leaky meeting Daph and Pansy soon. Don’t worry – they don’t know.
They better not. Pansy can’t keep a secret even if you threatened to Avada her.
Noted. Did you pick?
Yes. Moving her stuff from the flat now.
Can’t wait. She’s wearing her purple dress, so wear the grey suit. Good luck ferret! Speak soon.
Draco done as he was told, putting on his grey slacks and the matching jacket. He would wear a tie but then she would know something was amiss.
“I am positively stuffed. Honestly, Draco I couldn’t eat another bit!” Hermione exclaimed, walking hand in hand with Draco out of the restaurant.
“I pick damn good places; I told you this before and you didn’t believe me.”
“Are we heading back to yours?”
“I actually had something I wanted to show you.”
“Lead the way.”
Draco apparated them to a field, quite literally in the middle of nowhere. Hermione was tense, clearly having no clue where she was. He could hear his heart beating hard, threatening to explode from his chest any minute. He straightened up, casting a Lumos in the direction of the dirt path. They walked for a few minutes, Hermione trying not to fall over in her high heels. He spotted the fence and slowed his walk down.
“Draco, I usually trust your judgement and all but what are we doing here?”
He laughed, dimming his wand and turning to face her. “I know, I’ve been secretive. Hopefully this will shine a light – if you will.” He shot a spark up into the sky and a house came to life. Lanterns lit the dark way down the dirt path. He shot a glance at Hermione, completely dumbfounded.
“Draco, what—”
“Come on.”
He led her down the pathway, stopping on the front porch steps. “Welcome home, Hermione.”
Her eyes welled with tears, some threatening to spill but not quite going over the edge. He turned to face her fully, taking both hands in his.
“Hermione Granger, there is not one woman like you on this planet earth. You’ve challenged me to become a better person, to learn to truly care about something – someone. You’ve stood by me, after everything. After everything I done, you found – Gods I don’t know how you did – but you found a way to forgive me. Make my life full again. Love me.”
Draco lowered himself to the ground on one knee, fishing a ring box from his pocket.
“Hermione Jean Granger, I promise to love you until the day my body leaves this earth, and for every life after in soul. Will you do me the extraordinary honour of becoming my wife?”
She trembled, her hands shaking as she cupped his face and eased him up from the ground. “Yes Draco. Yes, I will be your wife!” Hermione squealed.
Present Day – March 2009
Now he stood on those same steps. Without his wife, without his soulmate. Without the woman he fucking loved til death. And yet, once being Hermione Granger’s wife still seemed like the most wonderful honour he could have ever had.