The Lifeguard
Hermione should have suspected Malfoy was up to something when he invited her to his flat to help with her months-long backlog of paperwork, but she was so relieved when someone else offered to ease some of the pressure she was under that she jumped at his offer. However, since she arrived, he had fed her, refilled her wineglass twice, and convinced her to relax by the fire as he played soothing melodies on the piano. Not once has the topic of work arisen.
As he finished playing, Hermione meant to turn the conversation to the reports, but then he rounded the couch and started to work out the knots in her shoulders, and she forgot about it entirely. It wasn’t until several hours later, as Malfoy was leading her to a guest room where silk pyjamas were waiting for her on the king-size bed, that she remembered to ask.
“It’s already done,” Malfoy answered, watching as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“Why would you do that for me?” she choked out.
“Because no one appreciates your work,” he exhaled, stating aloud what she already knew to be true. “You deserve to be lazy, Hermione. To do whatever you want even if it’s nothing at all. I see you wasting away in that office, your light diminishing every day as you file those useless reports that no one reads, and I just wanted to do something for you. If I could convince you to quit and live in my villa in Provence for the summer, I would. You need a break before this job breaks you.”
She sagged into herself as tears pricked at her eyes. She didn’t even realize it until he said it, but she was drowning, and Draco bloody Malfoy had pulled her from under the waves.
He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her closer as she started to cry, and she decided to finally put herself first. “I think doing nothing in France sounds lovely,” she breathed, filling her lungs with air as she allowed him to guide her to shore.