Draco knows she is it for him the second he walks into her bookshop. He smells her scent - coconut, vanilla, and something else that was just her - and nearly falls to his knees.
He’d been dealing with the whole Veela thing for quite some time now; a year, to be exact. The mate thing is fairly new, though; only a few months. Not much had changed, besides a dull ache forming in his chest, then permanently residing there. Next came a sort of sixth sense of his mate’s thoughts and feelings. He couldn’t read her mind or know what was going on besides what she was feeling, and even then it was only if the emotion was particularly strong. It usually just felt neutral or happy, but a couple of days ago, he felt sadness radiating from that small spot in his brain dedicated to her, so strong that he had to convince himself not to leave his flat to go find her. It physically hurt him to know that she was hurting and he never wishes to feel that again.
Now, though, standing in the doorway of the shop, the ache in his chest is better. The… - thread? - connection they have sings in delight, a lovely sense of calm enveloping him. For a minute, he basks in it, allowing his tense muscles to relax for the first time in months, taking deep breaths and letting out a relieved laugh.
But then, she’s walking out from the back room and he freezes, his eyes wide as it clicks in his brain. Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger is his mate. His heart drops. She’ll never take him as her mate, her partner. The pain in his chest resurfaces and his shoulders hunch over slightly at the realization.
She notices him there and stops in her tracks, her tiny arms holding way too many huge books for it to be comfortable. Her eyebrows furrow as she takes him in. “Malfoy? Are you alright?” Her voice sounds heavenly and he sways on his feet. She sets down her pile of books, struggling not to let them drop as she does so, and takes a step towards him.
His hand shoots out to stop her. “I - … Yes, fine. Sorry.” His voice is strained and he grimaces at the sound. She looks even more confused now, but she doesn’t respond right away, so Draco fights every single instinct in his body, turns around, and leaves her shop.
———————
The next day at work, Draco storms into the DMLE, beelining straight to his auror partner’s cubical in the Auror Headquarters. Potter jumps as Draco leans on his desk, both hands palm down on top of his paperwork. “I need to speak with you.”
Harry raises his eyebrows at him. “Okay. Speak, then.” He looks back down at his parchment, trying to pull a page out from underneath Draco’s palm.
Draco huffs, rolling his eyes, and looks around them. There are far too many people who can overhear. “Not here, ” he hisses, pointedly looking at the other Aurors and Ministry workers around.
Draco registered himself as part Veela with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures when he found out, of course, but that information is confidential. Not many others know he’s part creature. Potter does, because it would be unwise to keep that from his auror partner, and his parents know, obviously. Weaselette knows because Potter knows, and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut when his wife asked about Draco. Theodore Nott knows, which means Pansy knows, because those two never keep anything from each other. Okay, maybe more people know than he realized, but it’s still somewhat a secret.
Potter stands and leads Draco to an empty meeting room, looking exasperated. “What is it? I’m busy with work. You know, what we come here to do everyday - ?” His sarcasm grates on Draco’s already fried nerves.
“I know who my mate is,” Draco forces out and Potter’s face goes white.
“It - … it’s not me, is it? Because, mate, I hate to break it to you, but - ”
“Gods, no! Potter, be serious, for once in your life,” Draco squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead with his index finger and thumb of one hand. He sighs, before forcing it all out in a rush. “IwenttoGranger’sbookshopandfoundoutit’s - ”
“Woah, woah, woah. I can’t understand a thing, try again,” Potter says, reaching out to grab Draco’s shoulder.
“It’s Granger.”
Potter freezes and Draco cracks open an eye slowly, worried he might punch him.
It’s several moments later that Potter speaks. “Well, you have to tell her.”
Fuck.
———————
A week passes, and Draco feels worse and worse with each day. It’s as if now that his Veela knows she’s meant to be his, it won’t feel content until he has her. The ache in his chest grows stronger and the thread in his mind connecting him to her feels strained and elicits sharp pains every few hours, like a stabbing feeling in his brain. Emotionally, he’s been in pain, too. He wakes up feeling empty, goes to bed feeling lonely. He can barely smile anymore. He feels pathetic and the whole situation makes him want to laugh because of how ridiculous it is. He doesn’t even know her!
Except he sort of does, because his Veela side can imagine how she would feel against his side, very vividly. And he can hear her laugh in his head when he thinks about it hard enough, and he can feel her warmth, and see the cute freckles ghosting her nose so very clearly, but only when he focusses. It’s as if he’s already loved and lost her and it hurts more than anything else he’s been through.
He’s on his way to a Ministry event that the DMLE is hosting, exactly a week from when Draco entered Granger’s bookshop. He steps out of the floo in the atrium, wiping any stray floo powder off his dress robes. When he looks up, Potter is across the room from him. Ginevra’s by his side, but neither of them are what caught his attention.
He can smell her . The ache in his chest lessens for a moment, and he closes his eyes, allowing the slight relief to wash over him. But then his Veela side is panicking, because where is she? He can smell her, but not see her, and his Veela does not like that one bit.
He looks around frantically, making his way to Potter. “Potter. Potter!” he hisses, quite frantically, as he approaches the happy couple. “Is she here? Where is she?”
Potter looks confused for a moment, Weaselette even more so, before his expression turns to one of understanding. “Oh,” he chuckles. “Yes, Hermione’s here. I imagine she’s socializing. She runs the charity organization sponsoring this event.”
The redhead gives her husband a questioning look. “‘Mione?” She turns to Draco. “Why do you care where Hermione is? How did you know she was even - Oh. Oh!” Her face lights up and Draco groans. “ Shit ,” he breathes.
“Ha! You found your mate! And it’s ‘ Mione !” Ginevra’s whispering to him, invading his personal space in that way Weasleys like to do. She looks ecstatic. “Oh, that’s good. That’s great!” She is laughing, full belly laughs, tears in her eyes. “S - sorry, that’s just… Oh, that’s too good.” Her laughing slowly wears off and Draco’s staring at her with the most unamused expression he can muster. “Well, does she know?”
Draco shakes his head. “No, and you aren’t telling her. I, myself, have only known for a week. Am I understood, Red?”
Weaselette looks like she wants to argue, but ultimately nods. “Understood. But I want to be there when she finds out!” She’s laughing again, so Draco nods a goodbye to Potter and makes his leave, focussed on finding Granger. Only to make the unease in his chest go away, he tells himself.
———————
It’s not until twenty minutes later that he finally sees her. She looks beautiful. At first, that thought freaked Draco out, but then he realized he has, in fact, always thought Granger was pretty. He never could admit it to himself, but she surely wasn’t anything but breathtaking.
She’s standing by a few other witches in nice dresses, but Granger’s is the only one of the bunch that catches his eye. It’s black and fits her wonderfully.
He must be staring for longer than he realizes, because someone clears his throat and taps him on the shoulder, shoving a drink towards him. Draco turns to see Nott next to him, and accepts the drink with a nod, heat rising in his cheeks from being caught watching Granger.
Nott fights a smile, glancing from Granger back to Draco, a brow raised. “What, looking for someone to take home tonight? Sorry to break it to you, but that one might take some work…” Theo takes a sip of his drink, perusing the crowd elegantly, as if he isn’t muttering dirty jokes to his friend during a Ministry gala.
Draco casts him a sidelong glance, before rolling his eyes and sipping his own drink. “No,” he says, his tone impatient. He debates whether or not he should tell Theo about the discovery of his mate, but the thought that Potter knows and not Theo makes him feel uneasy. Nott’s his best mate. “You can’t tell her - or anyone, for that matter - …” he starts, and Nott smiles as if he already knows what Draco’s about to say.
Draco narrows his eyes at him disappointedly and Theo smirks wider. “Wait, you’ve already shagged her?” he whisper-shouts, his expression pure mischief.
Draco sighs, exasperated. “She’s my mate,” he mutters, his glass at his mouth muffling his already quiet words.
Nott’s eyebrows furrow, and then his face lights up just like Ginevra’s did. “She doesn’t know, yet, does she? Oh, Merlin… That’s karma for you, Malfoy. Good luck !” He’s laughing, and while Draco knows it’s all in good fun, his Veela side is not enjoying the taunting. It’s agonizing to know his mate may never accept him.
“Sod off, Nott,” he snarls and sips more of his drink, looking away towards the groups of people, now. Theo stops laughing and steps forward, turning to face him. “Alright, too far. Sorry,” he says, his hand held out as if in surrender.
Draco shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s fine. Just sort of a sore subject at the moment.”
After a nod, Theo lets him bask in the murmur of guests talking and glasses clinking for a moment before speaking again. “Why don’t you just tell her ?”
Draco’s eyes have wandered back to Granger on their own accord, and he can’t seem to pull them away. “I can’t,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “She’ll just reject me, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle that. Actually, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t survive that, so it isn’t an option.”
Nott shrugs, eyebrows furrowed in Draco’s peripheral vision. “I don’t think she would. Not once she learns how wonderful a Veela mate bond is, and how much you’ve changed. She would be lucky to have you as a partner. I think it’s worth a shot, especially since the alternative is an eternity of pining, misery, and heartbreak… bloody dramatic, those bird ancestors of yours,” Nott chuckles, sipping his drink, and claps Draco on the shoulder. “Think about it. You deserve to be happy, mate.”
Draco nods, one side of his mouth turning up into a smile. “Yeah, okay. I will.”
“Good,” Nott says, before nodding his goodbye and walking off to socialize with a group of people who work in his department. Draco watches him go, before looking back to where Granger just was, only to find that she had moved.
A stinging pain shoots through Draco’s chest, hurting enough to prompt his free hand to shoot up and cradle it. He focusses on the connection to his mate in his mind, but everything feels fine on her end. She’s happy.
He’s walking towards where Granger disappeared to before he consciously makes the decision to move, his feet leading him to her on their own. Another sharp pain elicits a gasp from him, and he walks faster through the crowds of people, his eyes on the lookout for her black dress and dark curls escaping a messy bun.
When he finally spots her, the pain in his chest rages on stronger, which is the opposite of what he expected. Being near her usually makes him feel so relaxed and relieved, he could cry. He takes a sip of his drink to cover up his wincing and forces himself to focus on getting closer to Granger without attracting attention to himself.
Once he finds a spot against a wall with a direct line of sight to his witch, he allows himself to glance back over at her.
His shoulders hunch forward, his chest splitting in two, and he hisses out in pain. Cormac Mclaggen has his hand on her lower back. The pain burns hotter, but so does Draco’s anger. How dare he touch her?
Draco pushes away from the wall he was leaning on, setting his glass down on a table nearby. He’s sauntering over to Mclaggen faster than he can think not to, his breaths coming out in huffs.
Mclaggen’s leaning down, talking in Granger’s ear, and she’s laughing. It stings him worse than the pain in his chest to see her look at him so happily, laughing at his jokes.
His steps falter and he clutches at his chest, itching to relieve some of the pain festering there. He can’t peel his eyes away from Granger and Mclaggen, but the longer he looks at them, the more it hurts.
Draco’s only feet away from her when an arm shoots out, grabs his bicep, and tugs him to the right. He stumbles, breathing heavily, and bumps right into Potter. “Wha - ? Let me go,” he growls, tugging his arm to try to get free of his grasp.
Potter only holds him tighter, looking somewhere behind him, his eyes wide. Then, Draco freezes, because he hears her voice, and his entire body buzzes, his muscles going slack. “Harry? Malfoy? Is everything okay?”
She sounds so sweet, her voice so angelic, Draco could die happily listening to her speak. The sound is quickly replaced by Potter’s voice, and Draco blinks, his brows furrowing. Where did her pretty voice go? He turns around, Potter’s hand still gripping his arm, and comes face to face with Granger.
Oh, she’s stunning. She smells incredible this close to him, and Draco’s breath hitches. His eyes go wide as he takes her in; the freckles dusting her nose and cheeks, the sparkle in her honey eyes, the baby curls framing her face. He feels as though he’s about to topple over, but Harry keeps him upright, thank Merlin.
The conversation suddenly comes back into focus, because Granger’s speaking again. Malfoy’s knees buckle, and once again, Potter saves him from collapsing. “Is Malfoy okay? I can get a healer to help if - ”
Draco knows he probably looks downright barmy, standing here staring at her like this, but he can’t stop. The pain is completely gone when she says his name, even though it’s only his surname, and when Harry cuts her off, Draco turns his head to glare at him angrily. Her voice is heavenly, and Potter won’t let her speak. “No, no, he’s okay,” Potter’s saying, talking quickly. “He’s had a bit too much to drink, this one.” He chuckles, and Draco turns back to Granger, his brows furrowed, shaking his head. “No. I only had one, I swear!”
Harry huffs and tugs on his arm, and Draco feels his glare burning into the side of his head. Draco thinks he should be the angry one, seeing as Potter just tried to lie to his mate, but something tells him not to say so out loud, so he doesn’t. Instead, he goes back to staring at Granger, watching her perfect eyebrows furrow and her gorgeous lips pinch into a pout. His eyes trace her cheekbone and the curve of her jaw and the way her hair is swept back from her temples so beautifully.
Potter’s speaking to her still, his voice a constant buzzing in the back of Draco’s mind. It comes into focus when he says, “Excuse us, Hermione.”
Hermione. Her-mi-o-ne. Even her name is beautiful.
Potter tugs on his arm, but he isn’t done staring at his witch. Draco casts a sideways glare at Potter, pulling his arm to try to free himself. “Let me go. I don’t want to leave,” he complains, leaning down to talk to Harry without worrying his witch. “I want to stay with her. Let me go!”
Raising his eyebrows, Potter tugs his arm hard enough to make Draco stumble towards him. “You can’t stay here, Malfoy. Let’s go.” Draco’s anger flares, heat rising up his neck. Why is Potter trying to take him away from his mate?
A voice behind Hermione catches his attention, and he turns back around to see Mclaggen gesturing for Hermione. “‘Mione! Come back here,” Mclaggen’s shouting, and Hermione turns around, walking towards him.
Draco sees red.
She’s his. What does Mclaggen think he’s doing?
He rips his arm out of Potter’s hold, about to charge forward to protect his mate, but two people grab his arms and pull him back. He continues fighting, and he would’ve made it out and to his mate, if not for the crippling pain that attacks his chest at the sight of Mclaggen’s arm dropping onto Hermione’s shoulders.
Draco folds in on himself, going limp in the arms of his captors, gasps of pain leaving his lips.
He’s dragged out of the crowded room, his vision hazy, and deposited onto a marble floor in a much quieter room. He feels a wall behind his back, and he leans his head back on it, trying to catch his breath.
“Hermione… Mclaggen’s touching her… Need to go…” he’s saying, once the pain recedes enough for him to speak. He opens his eyes to Theo and Harry standing over him. He blinks, looking around him and back to the two men practically guarding him. They’re alone, in the hallway outside of the ballroom, and Nott looks concerned.
Draco starts to stand up, but quickly falls back onto his bottom with a groan. “ Merlin…” He rubs his eyes and then runs his hands through his hair.
“Malfoy? Back to normal yet?” It’s Potter speaking.
Draco groans, realizing what he’s just done. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m back.”
Nott scoffs, and Draco’s head snaps up to glare at him. “I think you gotta tell her, mate. She’s going to want answers.”
Draco takes a deep breath, letting his head fall back onto the wall behind him, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”
———————
The next time Draco sees Granger, it’s at the Auror Headquarters five days later.
Potter had asked him that morning if he told Granger yet, to which Draco said, “Not yet.” Potter gave him his very-disappointed-dad look, hands on his hips and everything. Draco just shrugged.
He spends the rest of the morning playing out scenarios in his mind in which Draco tells Granger she’s his mate. Most of them end in disaster, two end in Granger going out with him just because she feels sorry for him, and one ends in… well, him doing things to Granger that are very inappropriate to think about in his place of work.
He gets approximately zero work done and then, suddenly, it’s his lunch break. Draco’s folding up his files and stacking away his untouched assignments to prepare to get a coffee and a sandwich from downstairs when his mate’s thread in his mind tingles, just enough for him to notice.
He freezes. He reaches out to it mentally, to make sure she’s okay, and he realizes she feels much closer than she usually does. After taking a deep breath in through his nose, he confirms that he can’t smell her nearby, so he puts all of his attention towards his hearing, trying to make out her voice in the usual office murmuring. A shiver goes down his spine when he hears the tiniest hint of his witch’s voice.
He smiles so wide, his cheeks hurt. He can’t help it. He’s in a constant state of pain when she’s not around, and as much of a disaster it was last time he saw her, he wants to see her again. He wants to be around her every second of every day for the rest of his life. She’s all he thinks about, and without her, he will never feel complete.
The ache in his chest feels so much better, just from barely hearing his mate speak. He can’t make out what she’s saying, aside from a few words. He places his hands in fists on his desk and turns his head just barely to where he thinks her voice is coming from.
He can’t see past his cubicle, so he leans back in his chair, his shoulders flush to the cushioned back of it. Still nothing. He sighs.
He tilts his chair back, just so, balancing himself on the back two legs with his fists supporting the weight on his desk. He can peek entirely around the wall of his cubicle now, and he gets a glimpse of chocolate curls.
He laughs under his breath, elated to see her again. The ache in his chest disappears and he feels like flying. He closes his eyes, relishing in the wonderful joy coursing through his veins, before his chair nearly slips out from under him. He gasps, his eyes shooting open, and stabilizes his balanced chair once again.
He focusses back on his witch, who’s standing by Harry’s desk. Now that he can see her, he can smell her, too, and he breathes deeply to take the scent in. She smells divine, even from this far away.
Potter stands up, carrying some paperwork over to the file organizers lining the back wall behind his cubicle. Granger follows him, keeping their conversation going, and Draco realizes he can hear their words now that they're just that little bit closer to him.
“... Ronald wanted to go to the Leaky, but I prefer the Three Broomsticks. You choose, Harry.” Draco’s entranced, focusing as much attention on his mate that he can while also keeping his chair balanced. He feels two pricks in his chest, one for each time she mentions another wizard’s name, but he can’t even find it in himself to be mad about it. She’s here and he knows, rationally, that Weasley and Potter are just her friends.
After Potter puts his papers into the file cabinets, he turns to face Granger and shrugs. Draco doesn’t even hear his response, he’s too busy watching Granger pull her hair to the nape of her neck and tie it into a bun. Draco smiles warmly at the sight. His witch’s hair is lovely down, but he’s glad she put it back so it doesn’t bother her.
Then, Draco’s eyes go wide and pain flares where his heart is, because Granger’s stepping forward with her arms out as if she’s going to hug Potter. Draco winces, letting out a squeak that is surely the most embarrassing sound he’s ever made. He can’t look away, though, and his anger rises when Potter looks like he’s going to hug her back
But then, Potter stops, takes a step back from Granger, and raises his hands. He turns his head, meeting Draco’s eyes. Draco breathes out a sigh of relief. He must remember that it’s painful for Draco when other wizards touch his mate when he’s nearby.
His eyes flicker to Granger, and she’s looking directly at him. His breath hitches and his cheeks heat. Draco immediately lets his chair fall forward, back on all four legs, and pretends to be busy with paperwork.
He hears Potter say something like, “I have a bit of a cough. Don’t want to get you sick!” Granger makes a humming sound that’s very much disbelieving and Draco tenses. She’s going to find out what’s going on for herself before he even gets a chance to tell her. Brilliant witch.
Draco feels all of the calmness and elation seep out of him slowly as Granger leaves Headquarters. He slumps in his chair, taking a deep breath as the aching returns. He tilts his chair back after a few minutes of getting accustomed to the pain again, searching for Potter.
They lock eyes and Draco nods once, mouthing “Thank you.” Potter nods back, a smirk on his face. He mouths, “You owe me.” Draco sighs.
———————
A red flash of light passes Draco, just inches from his face. He startles, jumping back behind the tree he’s been using as a shield.
He's in the middle of what should have been a simple mission. Find the group of wizards hoarding Antipodean Opaleye Dragon eggs, arrest them, turn in said eggs to the DRCMC, and then write up reports on the mission.
The wizards illegally holding and selling the dragon eggs are most definitely dark wizards, not “creature-lovers” like Head Auror Robards thought. So, now, Draco and Potter are stuck in the middle of a forest, in a full blown battle with a group of ruthless killers instead of making their way back to Headquarters.
Another spell hits the bark on the side of the tree Draco’s cowering behind and Potter yelps somewhere to his left. Draco sighs, stepping out from behind his shield to cast a stunner at the group of dark wizards. He thinks it hits one of them, and he hopes he’s right.
“You okay?!” he calls out as he steps back behind his tree. He hears Potter yell back a muffled, “Mhm!” and Draco gets worried. “You don’t sound okay!”
Draco waits a moment for a response, holding his breath, until Potter shouts back. “I’m fine!” Phew.
He’s about to leap out and cast more offensive spells when he unexpectedly doubles over in pain. His chest feels like it’s being ripped open and he looks down at it to make sure that’s not actually the case. It looks fine, but a throb shoots through him again and he groans. He looks around, panting, trying to see if he missed a wizard advancing on him, but no one’s nearby. He tenses up, breathing through his teeth as another wave of agony forces his shoulders to hunch over.
If he didn’t get hit by a spell, it has to be her . Terror shoots through his veins, icy and harsh. Granger’s in trouble, and he’s under attack in the middle of this forest. Fuck.
He carefully reaches out to the thread in his mind, scared for what he’ll discover on the other side. It’s worse than he thought. There’s stinging pain and some fear, too.
A Confringo hits the ground next to Draco, causing him to jump and push himself further against his tree. He can’t concentrate when his mate’s in danger.
It takes him only fifteen seconds to decide he needs to go to her.
Potter’s going to kill him.
He looks over to where Potter should be, seeing him against a tree of his own, sending a Patronus for backup. He’ll be fine . Probably.
Draco takes a deep breath, fighting through the burning ache in his chest, and apparates directly out of the forest.
———————
He lands in Diagon Alley, outside of Granger’s bookshop, and scoffs at himself angrily. Why would she be in trouble here ?
Panicking just slightly ( a lot ), Draco spins in a circle, his hands gripping his hair at the roots. Where could she be?
He’s scanning the shops he can see and racking his brain for any ideas when something catches his eye down the street. He lets his arms drop, squinting to see better. It’s rather dark, and only a few shops around are still open and lit up.
It looks like a person, walking quite uneasily towards him.
When a breeze ruffles Draco’s hair, he inhales and freezes, because he can smell Granger. His feet are moving before he registers it, and the scent gets stronger and stronger the closer he gets to the figure walking towards him.
After he walks a few feet, he can make out curls atop the person’s head, as well as the limp they’re walking with. He curses under his breath, a jab going through his chest once again.
Granger’s scent is clear as day, now, and he’s close enough to see some of her features as well. He feels wave upon wave of relief crash over him and his Veela side practically purrs. It’s definitely her.
“Granger? What’s wrong?” He fights to keep the panic and terror out of his voice, and he thinks he does fairly well. He sounds only a little bit shaky.
Granger looks up, her features contorted in pain, and Draco feels his heart split open. His witch is hurting.
“Malfoy? W-what are you doing here? Harry said he had a mission…” Granger’s voice makes his panic dim, knowing that she’s right in front of him and able to speak, but he’s still worried about her limp and the way her words tremble a bit.
“I left early,” he says quickly, knowing she wouldn’t let it go unanswered. “What happened?” He’s close enough now that he can reach out and touch her, and he almost does, but he stops himself with a hand outstretched towards her. His heart is pounding and she looks awfully strained standing there with all of her weight on one foot, but he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. It’s weird enough that he’s standing outside of her shop alone this late, he doesn’t need to do anything else that’ll scare her off.
She huffs out a humorless laugh, shuffling her feet to stand more comfortably. She stumbles, a gasp leaving her lips, and Draco’s there in an instant, his arm around her ribcage, under her shoulder, to steady her.
Draco’s body sings where hers meets it, even through a couple layers of clothes. If his mate wasn’t hurt, he’s sure he would feel absolutely blissful. “Granger?” he prompts, because he hates not knowing what’s wrong.
She huffs, an annoyed sound, and shrugs one shoulder. “It’s stupid, really. I was out with…” Draco tilts his head down and narrows his eyes at her as she pauses, but he doesn’t pry. He’s almost positive he wouldn’t like the answer anyway. “... friends and I twisted my ankle outside of the pub. I didn’t want to apparate with it injured in case I splinched myself, and I’ve had a few Butterbeers, so healing it with magic probably wasn’t the best idea. I just… Well, I walked here. I thought I’d stay the night in the studio flat above my bookshop.”
Draco’s jaw clenches harder and harder as she goes on. He feels anger rise up in his chest where the panic and unease is slowly fading. “And why didn’t your bloody friends help you?” he growls out, his arm tightening around his witch.
Granger’s eyes go wide for a second, before she looks down at her feet. She looks disappointed, and that only serves to anger Draco further. “They needed to get home. Really, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
Draco shakes his head. “No. They never should’ve left you all alone with a hurt ankle at night like this.” He can’t help the bitterness that leaks out in his tone. He knows she was on a date. Probably with Mclaggen. His jaw tightens even further.
Granger stiffens. “I can take care of myself,” she mutters, her voice quiet, and Draco’s heart soars. His mate is just adorable.
“Trust me, I know,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll apparate us to mine. Hold on.” Before she has a chance to argue, he’s spinning them into apparition. They land gently outside of Draco’s townhouse, his arm supporting most of her weight.
“Hey!” Granger scolds, slapping him softly on his shoulder. “What if I wanted to be in my own home? You can’t just apparate someone like that - ”
Draco immediately floods with guilt. His mate is unhappy. “I’m sorry!” He looks down at her with wide eyes. “I’ll heal you right here, then, and you can apparate yourself home as soon as I’m done.”
She stares at him, brow furrowed, for a moment, before her lips turn up into a smile. She huffs out a laugh and Draco raises his eyebrows. “What’s funny?”
Upon seeing her smile, Draco realizes how close her face is to his. His eyes get caught on her eyelashes, then her dimples, and then the freckles that he thinks about way too often. If her ankle wasn’t still injured, he’s sure he’d be in the same Veela-daze he went into at the Ministry gala. He can’t afford that now, so he forces his eyes away. He still has to heal her.
Granger shrugs, and he remembers he asked her a question. She’s still smiling that amused smile and he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He thinks about the path to the chair in his living room and how best to get her there.
“I’m going to carry you, alright?” Once again, he doesn’t allow her the time to argue. Draco leans down to slip his arm under her knees. He picks her up easily, despite the buzzing that travels through his body at the realization that he has his mate entirely in his arms for the first time. He smiles, and tries to hide it by turning his head. She’s perfect and he doesn’t ever want to let her go.
Granger gasps, and throws her arms around his neck, which only serves to make him even more elated. “I got you,” he mutters, and walks to his front door, unlocking it and stepping inside.
He carries her smoothly over to his big, leather armchair, setting her down as gently as he can, before wandlessly summoning the ottoman over for her to rest her feet on. He taps it, gesturing for her to put her legs up, and she does, watching him with bright eyes. He hesitates, his gaze getting caught on her own, before he remembers his task to heal her.
“Stay still,” he tells her, speaking quietly, before he leaves the room to fetch her a sobering potion and a pain relief potion. When he enters his living room again, she’s waiting patiently in her chair, her hands folded in her lap. She appears to be looking around the room, taking in his homey living room. He can’t help but smile again. His mate is letting him take care of her. His heart warms wonderfully.
He kneels by her ankle, leaning towards her to hand over the potions. “Take these.”
Granger takes them from his hands and her fingers brush his just so , but it’s enough for his eyes to close in bliss. He lets out a sigh, forcing his eyes to open.
“Thank you,” his witch mutters, and he smiles, pride filling his chest. She drinks the potions one at a time, and he’s too excited to be helping his mate to realize that she didn’t even ask him what they were. She trusts him.
He takes out his wand, setting it on the ottoman next to Granger’s feet. He reaches for her shoe, glancing her way as if to ask permission. She nods and he’s fighting a smile again.
Draco carefully undoes the strap of Granger’s heel and slides it off of her foot, setting it on the floor next to him. His jaw clenches when he sees her injured ankle. It’s not as bad as it could’ve been, but she shouldn’t have been walking on it.
He raises his wand and after one spell, the swelling and bruising on her ankle completely disappears. She rolls her foot from side to side, sighing when she finds it no longer hurts. He sighs next, because her thread in his mind is completely pain-free again.
“All better?” he asks her, moving to put one foot flat on the floor so he’s only on one knee. Granger nods. “Yes, thank you.”
Draco’s lips curve up, full of relief, and he slips her foot back into her shoe, refastening the strap. “Good,” he breathes out, raising his head to look at her once more.
She’s no longer in danger, and he notices the pain he had been feeling is gone. He could cry, he feels so amazing.
Suddenly, her scent is much stronger and he can feel her presence in his mind way more prominently than before. His eyes go wide and he’s staring at her, probably quite rudely, before he can stop himself.
Hermione’s in his home. He was touching his mate. He feels his breathing all but stop at the realization. He wants to be that close to her again.
Hermione smiles at him and he feels all wobbly on his knee. His hand finds the ottoman next to him to steady himself. “S-sorry,” he breathes, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Hermione laughs, and his eyes must go even wider, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “It’s alright, Malfoy. Thank you for healing me. I should get going.”
Draco’s shaking his head before she even finishes speaking, a furrow between his brows. An ache blooms in his abdomen at the mere thought of being away from her again. “No! No, I mean… Do you have to?” He winces, because it’s nighttime, and rationally, he knows she isn’t going to spend the night.
Hermione tilts her head knowingly and nods, fighting another amused smile. She stands up from her chair and Draco scrambles to push himself up off the floor, his head spinning. He follows her to his door, the ache growing stronger the whole way.
She turns to face him once they reach the threshold, a glowing smile on her face. Draco matches it, though his is less enthusiastic because he knows she’s soon to be leaving him.
“It’s particularly lucky that you happened to be in Diagon,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Especially when you were meant to be on an Auror mission.” Her hands are fiddling with the seam of her robes.
Draco leans on the wall next to him, looking down at her with his hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent him from reaching out for her. He feels his smile fall as she speaks. He can’t just lie to his mate, and telling her the truth right now seems impossible.
“I told you, I left early,” he says, his voice strained.
Don’t ask why, don’t ask why, don’t ask why…
Hermione nods once, her shiny curls moving around her shoulders as she does so. Then, she looks down and shrugs, as if she’s disappointed in his lack of explanation. “Alright. Thanks again, Draco .”
Draco’s gasp is sharp, loud, and very embarrassing. His Veela doesn’t even seem to care, though. His mate just said his name for what was probably the first time ever . His lips are parted and he’s staring at her even more googly-eyed than before. He’s frozen, stuck in his spot against the wall, because the alternative is rushing forward and kissing her, and he can’t afford to let that happen.
He can feel his heartbeat, strong and unsteady in his throat. His body is practically vibrating with joy.
But then, Hermione is opening the door, and Draco is watching her step outside. “W-wait!” He follows her, standing at his doorway, his hand on his door jam. “Are you sure you can get home okay on your own? I should go with you… Make sure you get there safe - ”
He’s rambling and Hermione laughs a short laugh that shuts him up immediately. She smiles and they stare at each other for a few seconds too long. “Goodnight, Draco.”
He’s frozen, once again, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest and join his mate. “G-goodnight.”
She smiles even wider, and then a pop rings through the air, and she’s gone.
———————
Potter’s yelling at him before he even fully enters Headquarters.
Draco is exhausted and more annoyed than usual at the everlasting pain where his heart is. He’s angry at himself for not just telling Granger the truth tonight. She was in his care, in his arms just an hour earlier, and he let her go.
Draco walks to his cubicle, passing right by Potter, who’s spewing things like “We’re supposed to communicate, not just jump ship!” and “I can’t believe you!”
Apparently, ignoring him isn’t going to get him to shut up.
“Hey! Malfoy! Listen to me, right now,” Potter follows Draco to the other side of the office, demanding his attention. When Draco faces him, Potter takes a deep breath. “Why’d you leave?”
Draco grinds his teeth together, because he knows this isn’t going to go over well. “Granger.”
Potter’s eyebrows raise. “What about her?”
“She was in trouble.” Draco avoids eye contact.
Harry makes a ‘go on’ motion with his hand.
“It was just a sprained ankle,” he mutters, shuffling his feet. He cuts Potter off before he can argue that a sprained ankle isn’t a big deal. “Look, the connection I have to her told me she was in pain and scared, and there wasn’t much I could do to avoid going to her! I had to make sure she was okay, I would’ve never been able to focus on the mission while in that kind of pain.”
They’re silent for a while, Draco running his hands through his hair. Potter takes off his glasses and cleans them on his shirt. Finally, he speaks. “I think you should take some time off work.”
Draco’s jaw drops. “What?! But - ”
Potter cuts him off, “Just until you’re no longer unmated. This is making you unreliable. The constant pain, the random calls for help through your mate connection. How do I know you won’t run off mid-mission again?”
Draco’s lips are pressed together so that he doesn’t interrupt Potter after his first sentence. He’s shaking his head, rubbing his temples, pacing the space between Potter and his cubicle. “I won't ever not be unmated ! She’ll never agree to mating with me ! After all I’ve done?” Draco’s voice is hoarse and he finds his desk chair, slumping down in it, his head in his hands.
Potter looks at him in pity now, his eyebrows wrinkled in concern. “You don’t know that, Malfoy.” His voice is quieter now, gentle. Caring. “If you tell her, and that is the case, we’ll come up with something else. But until she knows… You can’t be certain what will happen.”
After a few silent minutes, Draco sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Fine.”
He packs up his cubicle and writes a letter to Robards with Harry’s help, and leaves work for the last time for the foreseeable future.
———————
A couple of miserable weeks go by, very slowly.
Draco can’t stand having nothing to do. He reads nearly every book in his personal library, and nearly convinces himself to visit the Manor to raid the Malfoy library, too.
The days bleed together, and he gets so lonely that he ends up owling Harry in the middle of the second week, asking about work and if there’s anything he can do to help.
Potter’s letter back only says, “One thing you can do is TELL HERMIONE!” with the last two words taking up half the page, and Draco burns it in his fireplace.
He’s hurting worse than ever and has nothing to distract himself from the ache. He thinks about her almost every second of the day. What she might be doing. If her hair is up or down. If she’s out with Mclaggen again. If she’s eaten. What she’s eaten.
Her thread feels mostly neutral the whole two weeks. Sometimes happy, and only sad once, thankfully. He wishes more than anything that he could feel more specific emotions through their connection. Even just variations of happiness, or concentration as she works or as she reads a new book. Anything to feel closer to her.
Draco’s just getting out of bed at noon today, and he feels so unproductive. He can’t bring himself to regret it though, because he spent the morning in bed, staring at the ceiling, and concentrating solely on his witch’s thread in his mind. She was mostly neutral, but happy for a few minutes at around nine in the morning. He desperately wants to know what made her happy for that short bit of time.
He forces himself to shower, and gets dressed into something other than sleep pants, before he makes his coffee with a flick of his wand as he steps into his kitchen.
A tapping sound catches his attention and he looks over to see an owl at his window. Another flick of his wand opens the window and lets the barn owl in. Draco recognizes it, but he isn’t sure whose it is. It drops a letter on the kitchen table, turns around, and flies right back out of his kitchen and into the sky.
Draco summons a cup of coffee and sits down at his table, opening the letter with his thumb nail quickly.
It’s from Potter, Draco realizes upon seeing the monogrammed parchment. It was Ginevra’s owl, then. He is much more eager to read the bloody letter now.
It reads, “Hermione may or may not be on her way to your place. I told her to leave you be, but she knows something is up - ”
As if on cue, a knock sounds from his entryway. He drops the letter, the rest of it irrelevant now. Before he even has a chance to process, his heart is beating faster than it has since he’s last seen her. The connection to her feels so solidly present in his mind, that he can almost imagine she’s close enough to touch, if he closed his eyes. He can smell her, too. And yet, he’s frozen. Stuck to his seat. His nervousness drowns at all of the usual excitement of being so close to his mate.
She can’t possibly know everything, can she? She doesn’t know he’s part-Veela, that’s confidential…
But she’s brilliant and has definitely thought up many theories. She’s going to demand the truth, and he’ll be completely at her disposal. He doesn’t stand a chance if he opens that door.
She’ll get him to tell the truth, reject him, go off and kiss Mclaggen - his Veela side rages at that thought - and he’ll be alone, here, miserable, forever.
He jumps as another knock - pounding this time - sounds against his front door. Shit.
Does he ignore her? Ouch. No, his Veela won’t let him do that , it seems.
He could open the door, tell her he’s busy right now, and deal with it all later? There’s a very good chance that wouldn’t work… he’s practically hypnotised whenever she so much as looks at him.
Another loud pound on his door.
He stands up, pacing back and forth in his kitchen, running his hands through his hair.
He takes deep breaths and looks down at his clothes, grimacing. At least he isn’t wearing sleep pants.
Three knocks in a row, this time.
Draco hesitates at the entry of his kitchen, eyes catching on the chair Granger occupied last time she was here.
Then, to his horror, sadness trickles into his mind from her thread. No.Oh, no. He’s made his mate sad.
It’s enough to spring him into action, his strides long and fast from his kitchen to his foyer. He pulls open the door, swallowing his nervousness and trying to focus on the pain slowly fading from his body and the connection thriving in his mind.
“I’m sorry!” he practically squeaks, as soon as it’s open. He doesn’t look at her right away, as much as he wants to. He looks above her head, eyeing the trees across the street from his townhouse. He smells sweet coconut and vanilla and squeezes his eyes shut, leaning on his door frame, so he doesn’t topple over. It’s been far too long since he’s been around her.
It’s quiet for a minute, and he opens his eyes, focusing on the trees again. Then, her pretty voice is in his ears. “You aren’t looking at me. Why won’t you look at me?”
Draco winces. “I’m sorry,” he says again, pathetically, letting his head fall forward so he’s looking at the ground.
He hears her sigh, wincing even further into himself, and then she pushes past him, into his home. She brushes shoulders with him as she does so, lighting up his entire body. He gasps, embarrassingly loud, and turns to face her, eyes wide.
She walks right into his living room, looking around. He pushes the front door closed and follows her, panicked. He didn’t really clean - there are open books laying around, a coffee mug on the table, a balled up blanket on the couch. He grimaces, and looks up at her with a pained expression on his face.
He sees her outfit, accidentally, and she looks absolutely adorable. She’s wearing a floral skirt that rests above her knees, and a light green cardigan over a white blouse. He forces his eyes away, breathing heavily to keep from acting a fool. He desperately wants to look at her face, her hair, but he can’t risk turning into even more of a dazed, mumbling idiot.
She turns around to face him once she finishes her perusal of his living room. He’s staring at her shoes. He sees her hands on her hips out of the corner of his eye and swallows nervously, shifting his feet. She seems mad.
“Do you hate me?” Her voice shakes and his chest splits open. Is she hurting ?
He’s shaking his head at the ground frantically, speaking out loudly before he can stop himself. “No! No , what are you - ?” His mate thinks he hates her?
“Well, are you not over my blood status or somethi - ?”
At this, he looks up, his features no doubt contorted in pain. He can’t help it. His heart may as well be on the floor, staining his carpet, if he’s judging by how torn apart his chest feels. “N - What ?! No! No, I’ve been over that for ages .” He feels more than hears his voice breaking.
He takes a step towards her, as if to comfort her, and stops when he realizes he’s looking at her . She’s even more gorgeous than he remembers. She’s frowning, her bottom lip pouted perfectly, her eyes round and eyelashes curled up beautifully. His brain gets foggy and he feels that bloody Veela-daze pulling him under, so he peels his eyes away, hissing “ shit” under his breath.
She huffs from across from him, and he feels sadness down her thread again. “Damn it, what did I do? How do I fix it?” he says, directing his words towards her shoes once again.
“Look at me!” she says, her voice raised exasperatedly.
“I can’t!” he exclaims back, quieter than her, but just as exasperated. “I’m sorry,” he says, quieter still.
“You apologize a lot,” she murmurs back, her voice just above a whisper.
They stand in silence for a moment, before he threads his fingers together behind his neck and walks over to the couch to his left, sitting down with his head in his hands near his knees.
He’s waiting for her to demand to know what’s going on or to tell him she’s already figured it out and she doesn’t want him. He would take anything over not knowing what’s going through her mind.
Draco hears footsteps and tenses, his eyes squeezing shut. “Don’t - ” he starts, but her feet are already just inches from his as she comes to stand in front of him. Her scent gets stronger and her skirt nearly brushes his forearms. His hands shake where they grip his hair. “ Granger… ” he warns through his teeth.
He starts breathing through his mouth, hoping to keep that delicious scent from messing with his head, but it doesn’t work.
“Do you not want me? Am I just so disgusting to you that you find some way to resist it?” she’s saying, her voice quiet and full of so much hurt . His teeth grate together, his heart thumping painfully in his chest, and he tries to make sense of her words instead of just immediately assuring her that she’s wrong.
She continues on when he stays quiet. “Why couldn’t you just talk to me ? You’d rather hole yourself up in this house, quit your job - live in constant pain - than be with me?!”
The heels of his palms press into Draco’s eyes and he’s shaking his head repeatedly, because she’s wrong . She misunderstood so horribly, and the pain in her voice is making him hate himself.
“No. No, no, no, that’s not it,” he mumbles, focusing on the thread feeding him her sadness instead of the fact that she’s nearly touching him right now.
Her words click in his brain and he freezes, muscles going tense. “Wait - you… How do you know ?” His palms slide from his eyes to his temples, and he watches her skirt hem blow gently by her knees. Her skin looks so smooth and he wants to reach out and brush his knuckles across it.
He hears her tiny chuckle and his head spins, relief flooding his body at the sound. “You honestly thought I wouldn’t figure it out? I’m not daft. ” Her hands drop from her hips to hang by her thighs and he notices her nails are painted white.
“No. Not daft, you’re brilliant,” he breathes out and he feels her happiness seep into his mind.
“I did some research. You weren’t exactly subtle, you know. A few chats with Fleur Weasley solidified my guess.” He lets out a disbelieving chuckle, in absolute awe of his mate. She’s moving, kneeling, now, and she sits down on his floor - the last place his witch belongs - in between his legs, her hands in her lap.
He’s as still as stone, unable to move until he knows he won’t accidentally touch her or do anything else he’d regret. His eyes land on her curls, right in front of his face now, and he lets himself trace them over and over again, avoiding looking at her face, as she gets situated, curling her legs under herself gracefully.
She tilts her head, trying to get him to look at her, and he keeps his eyes trained on a curl on her shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful,” he blurts out, voice quiet. He sees her lips move into a smile and very nearly breaks his focus from her curl.
“Thank you, Draco,” she whispers, and his heart soars. His fingers tangle in his hair and he tries to slow down the rapid beating in his chest by breathing deeper. It doesn’t work.
“Can you look at me?” she says, a little louder, after a few moments. She was giving him time to adjust to her closeness, he thinks. His smart, caring witch.
He shakes his head, squinting at the curl he’s been watching. “I’ll go mental, literally. I start staring at you like I’m hypnotised and falling over and making this huge fool of myself… And I refer to you as Hermione in my brain when I look at you for too long, when have I ever called you Hermione? You make me crazy, and…” he trails off, because Granger’s laughing and his eyes widen a fraction at the sound.
“I know, it’s hilarious! At the Ministry Gala…” she says, her curls shaking around her shoulders with her laughter. Draco can do nothing but listen and try to memorize the sound. Once it stops, she lets out a sigh. “You said my name,” she says with a smile in her voice. “I don’t think you’ve ever said my name.”
Draco can hardly contain his grin. “You want me to say your name?” Hermione nods, misplacing his distraction curl again. Her nod makes him so happy, he could cry. Finally, something he can give her, and it’s as simple as saying her name in conversation. If they have any more conversations after this one.
“Please, look at me,” she tries again, her voice so sweet, he leans towards her subconsciously.
The ‘please’ cuts straight through his heart, and his eyes flicker to Granger’s for less than a second, immediately finding another curl on her head to stare at. “There, I did it,” he says, voice strained.
“Draco…” she sighs, disappointed, her hands fidgeting in her lap. His hands form fists on either side of his head and he holds back a pained groan. She’s relentless, using his name like that.
Granger lets him be for a few moments, and he relaxes enough to put his hands on his knees and straighten his back a little bit. He’s sitting more like a normal person now, but he still can’t breathe properly. Or look at her.
“I’m better,” he says, proud of himself. He can feel her happiness in his mind.
“Good,” she answers, sounding proud of him as well. “Look at me now?”
He huffs. “Hermione.” Her happiness traveling down the thread gets stronger and he melts, because he did that.
He realizes they must’ve been in this room together for at least twenty minutes now. She hasn’t left him. Or told him ‘no,’ yet. All of the sudden, his elation turns to pain again.
“You’re not staying, are you? You’re going to leave me,” he mutters, so sure he’s correct, and dreading the answer.
Her thread becomes neutral and Draco mentally kicks himself for ruining her happiness. Then, it turns sad, and he winces.
“No, Draco. I want to stay. If you’ll have me.”
The thread in his thoughts becomes a bit more solid with her words, and Draco leans back on the couch, his head tilted back as he looks at the ceiling. He takes a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down before he overreacts and scares her away.
Her sadness turns to fear - nervous fear - and he tenses.
“Will you? Have me, I mean? Please, look at me, I want to talk - ”
Her little hands sneak into his peripheral vision, heading towards him, and he’s powerless to stop them. He feels her cup his face and his entire body feels alive . He relaxes into her hands, one of his coming up to hold her palm to his cheek tighter.
He looks at her. Full on, no more staring at curls or ceilings. He waits for that bloody daze to wash over him, but it doesn’t. At least, not completely. He’s still in control of himself, of his thoughts. He just feels a wave of adoration wash over him.
Granger’s eyes are stunning. Her freckles - oh, he’s missed her freckles. Her nose is a perfect, little button nose, has he noticed that before? He doesn’t think he’s noticed how cute her nose is before.
“Pretty witch,” he whispers and she laughs an adorable laugh, her dimples appearing. After a moment of studying her every feature, he continues, his voice a little louder. “Of course, I’ll have you, Hermione. I can’t believe you’d ever think I’d refuse you.”
Hermione’s lips are curved into a wide smile now, her teeth white and perfect. His smile is smaller, more careful than hers. He’s worried.
“This means… Well, does this mean you’ll mate with me? That’s… It’s permanent, Hermione. Very permanent. You’ll tire of me, realize you need someone who actually deserves you. You don’t have to do this. W-we can… we can date, hang out. Or even just be friends. That’s all I need to be happy, I promise.”
Hermione’s smile fades so fast, he feels like crying. She looks sad, and confused, and her thread feels the same. “No, I… I won’t get tired of you. Are you trying to talk me out of mating with you?” She sounds sad, too.
He shakes his head, opening his mouth to respond, but she continues. “I don’t want to be friends . What happens when I want a partner, a family? I go off and be with someone who can’t love me even a quarter as much as you do? Live a mediocre life with someone I’m not meant to be with?” Draco winces at this, his hand tightening over hers on his cheek. “... And you’ll, what? Hole yourself up here, miserable, heartbroken for the rest of your life? Hurting for the rest of your life? I won’t have that.”
Draco’s eyebrows pinch together, pain written across his face. “Wait six months. If you still want me by then, we’ll mate and complete the bond.
Hermione thinks for a long while, and Draco uses this time to hold both of her hands in his in the space between them, tracing every one of her fingers with his. He feels her pulse beneath her wrist, marveling at how wonderful her skin feels against his. His Veela side is content and he doesn’t think it’s possible for him to be any happier. Except maybe the day his mate completes their bond with him.
She looks up at him eventually, and he freezes, meeting her eyes. “Three months.”
Draco presses his lips together. “I don’t know, Hermione.”
She raises up onto her knees, her hands grabbing his shoulders. His eyes widen at the new contact, but he doesn’t tense up like before. “I want the bond completed now… ”
Draco’s eyebrows shoot up because he’s tempted to agree and begin right this second. He shakes his head a fraction. “Hermi - ”
She cuts him off. “And you want to wait six months…”
He sighs, shaking his head. “Well, I don’t want to - ”
“It’s a compromise. Three months. Halfway between now and six months.” Granger looks at him with eyes so wide and hopeful, he can’t help but smile.
“Alright. Three months.”
Hermione squeals, a sound so joyous his heart melts, and throws her arms around his neck. His arms instinctively wrap around her waist, holding her against his body tightly. Her curls tickle his face, her lips are warm in the crook of his neck, and he’s surrounded entirely by coconut and vanilla and her . He feels so complete, he’s almost certain he sheds a tear.
Soon, he’s standing, lifting her in his arms, and setting her gently on her toes in front of him. Draco trails his hands up to her hair, threading his fingers through her curls, feeling their softness for the first time. She feels so small , standing in front of him and in his arms. He wants nothing more than to protect her, for as long as she’ll let him.
Hermione’s staring up at him with so much feeling in her eyes, it’s as if she’s the one bewitched by him. He never imagined she would accept him so easily. Or take his pain away for him, when he’s been nothing but deserving of it for most of his life.
He feels her hands trail up to his neck, leaving goosebumps and fire in their wake. She pulls his head down, their noses bumping together, and his smile morphs into a serious expression, his eyes wide. “I - … Hermione, that might not be the best ide - ”
“Shh. Let me,” she pleads, against his lips, and he’s unable to protest. He shares her breath, his entire body singing, and then she’s pressing her lips against his in the most gentle kiss he can imagine.
She’s perfectly still, applying soft pressure, while his soul shatters open, hers to take. When her soft lips move against his, he’s immediately matching her movements, tasting her, feeling her, tugging on her curls, molding her body to his.
One arm wraps around her waist and lifts her, her toes leaving the ground, just so he can kiss her deeper. She gasps into his mouth, and he swallows it.
When they finally pull away from each other, it’s only because they need air. They’re breathing heavily, and Draco feels so dizzy with pleasure that he flops back down onto his couch before he trips and embarrasses himself.
Hermione joins him, sitting in his lap, which definitely doesn’t help him with the dizziness.
They get to know everything they can about each other that afternoon, talking for hours, making plans. Draco’s absolutely certain he’s in love with her by the time she leaves, if he wasn’t before, and the ache is dull, because this time, he knows she’s coming back.
And she does.