Hermione/Draco
What’s the saying: bad beginnings always make for good endings? Hermione wasn’t sure where she heard that quote before, but she could certainly attribute it to one very specific person, on one very specific day.
Her Auror staff rotated often, and that wouldn’t bother her much, save one in particular she wished would linger. She needed him to take up more space. Perch on her desk, lean on her door frame, argue with her for hours, just stay.
It was a dance between them. It had been for months. Their divorces were final, she hoped he would make a move, but then her world shifted again. As the newly elected Minister she was no longer his fellow Auror, but his subject. His purpose.
The intensity with which he brought to protecting her drove her to distraction.
His small touches were often schooled when he remembered himself. A hand to the small of her back, a brief nudge on her shoulder, a brush of an elbow as they walk the hallways together. It was not enough, not nearly enough to satisfy the growing need she had for him.
He’d taken to keeping his hands in his pockets and Hermione could only deduce the reason why.
The first time there’s a threat to her life he pushed through a crowd to secure her. His arms are wrapped around her waist before she can say his name. He pushed her head into the safety of his chest as they Apparated to the security of her flat. Hermione thinks if she doesn’t start speaking soon he’ll hear all her thoughts through the beating of her heart. It’s not beating because she’s afraid for her life, it’s beating because she simply can’t keep it quiet around him.
“Granger, don’t. Don’t say anything.”
“I’m safe,” she whispered, looking up at him. She repeated it over and over before he finally met her gaze.
“We can’t,” he sighed and moved to take a step back from her.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” she huffed. Somehow the indignant use of his full name brought him closer, like she’d confirmed for him all that he’d repressed these last months.
“If you touch me, I’ll vanish, Granger. My molecules will realign from the ruin of your fingers and I’ll be reborn.”
“Stay,” she whispered as she pushed her palms firmly against his chest.
He finally brought his hands up into her hair and she couldn’t stop the small whimper that escaped her lips.
She stepped further into his embrace and she knew there was nothing she wanted more than to be reborn too.
“Wreck me. Ruin me. Remake me, Draco…just stay.”