XXXI.
She pulled open one of her eyes. Everything was heavy. Her eyes, her chest, her limbs. Even her hair felt heavy against her scalp. She could see Draco’s sleeping form curled against her. He had a scowl fixed on his face that reminded her of his Hogwarts days. It was so different than the peaceful man she’d come to know lately. She reached over and dragged her fingernails across his forehead, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.
She was alive. The pain of this last curse had been completely unbearable. She blacked out almost immediately after the words left her mouth. But she could remember the pain. It still lingered now, like little flashes of electricity that left biting shockwaves all over her body. Her skin burned everywhere and was tender to the touch. Her temperature reflected the burning she felt. She was miserably achy.
Draco shifted in his sleep. His eyes fluttered open and widened when they saw her looking at him.
“Are you really awake?” he whispered like he didn’t quite believe it himself.
She nodded.
“It’s been three days.”
Her mind moved slowly as she fought to process what Draco was saying. Three days? He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
He said it over and over as he kissed her hands. She didn’t understand. Why was he apologizing? She’d killed his father.
“Are you upset with me?”
“What? No! Granger, no.”
He rested his hand over her hair and kissed her forehead.
“I didn’t want you to kick me out,” she said.
Draco smiled.
“Granger, you’re not going anywhere,” he said. “You’re stuck with me. Forever.”
Her eyelids drooped as she fought off another wave of exhaustion.
“Forever?”
“Mmhmm,” he nodded and kissed her left hand where his ring sat on her finger. “Forever, darling.”
***
Hermione woke the next morning with Draco curled around her. She managed to slip out of bed without him noticing and took the opportunity to stretch for the first time in days. She felt horribly stiff and sore. She transfigured herself some denim and a jumper, green of course, and put on some fuzzy socks. It wasn’t quite dawn yet, so she made her way to the library more out of habit than anything.
Once there, she found it in the exact form she would have expected. Blood didn’t stain the rugs or floor. There was no evidence of the atrocities from the other night. Hermione walked over to the tables Draco had set up for their research, and her fingers skimmed over the parchment. She saw her name and looked closer. It was the diagnostic Draco must have run on her that night. Her vitals were listed, as well as a scan of her brain from a seizure of some kind. She saw the colored ink blots that covered the illustration. It was miraculous magic Draco created to achieve this, but the findings were concerning. Each time she used the curse it broke more of her.
“Good morning, Miss Granger.”
Hermione whirled to see Narcissa Malfoy perfectly posed behind her. She was already dressed in a skirt, blouse, and heels. Her hair was done up elaborately, and she had on a perfect overlay of makeup. Narcissa’s eyes roamed over Hermione from her mop of unruly curls down to her socked feet. She felt almost naked under her stare.
“Erm, hello,” she fumbled.
She floundered at something to say to this woman. She’d just killed her husband days ago. What could Narcissa possibly have to say to Hermione? She probably wanted revenge. Godric, this had been a stupid idea to wander the manor now that his mother had returned.
“I wanted to speak with you,” she said. “Would you care for some coffee? Draco mentioned you have that with your breakfast.”
Coffee did sound nice. A blanket of snow had fallen through the night and was still steadily streaming this morning. The gray space outside demanded warmth and light inside.
“Sure,” Hermione said and followed Narcissa to the sofas.
Narcissa flicked her wand, the fireplace was lit, and a tray of coffees appeared before them. Before Hermione could move, Narcissa began to pour cream and sugar into the bottom of the cup and whisked it briskly with the spoon before adding in the steaming liquid. She offered Hermione a smile as she handed it to her.
“Draco told me how you take your coffee.”
Hermione’s heart constricted at the offering.
“Thank you,” she said.
Narcissa poured herself a cup of black coffee and sat back. She remained completely poised and polite while she took a few sips from her cup. Hermione noted the way Narcissa’s fingers flexed and spasmed every couple of seconds. She looked down and found her own doing a similar action.
“I believe I owe you the deepest of apologies, Miss Granger.”
“Oh no-” Hermione started, but Narcissa held up her hand.
“Please,” she said, silencing Hermione. “My husband and sister have treated you in a manner that is reprehensible and unforgivable. And I am as guilty as they are. Though I never shared their sentiments, I was guilty of inaction. And I am truly sorry for this. Draco has never once spoken ill of you. He would come home on breaks and regale me with stories of your academic feats.”
Hermione smiled at the idea of Draco Malfoy telling his mother about her. What a strange concept.
“You really were a remarkable witch. And still are, from what I hear.”
Hermione’s guilt clawed at her.
“Mrs. Malfoy, about the other night,” Hermione said.
“You saved my life.”
Hermione’s brows drew together.
“I wasn’t afforded the luxury of marrying for love. My role was to marry one of the Sacred Twenty-eight and produce an heir. Ours was more transactional than romantic. And I paid the price for many years. You’ve given me a new start. A new life.”
She smiled wistfully down at her coffee. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.
“I can never thank you enough for the sacrifices you’ve made.”
Hermione was speechless. How could Narcissa possibly think of her as a hero? Perhaps she never fully understood the dynamic of these magically aristocratic marriages.
“I hope that in time, Miss Granger, I can show you how appreciative I am for your presence in our lives.”
“Call me Hermione,” she said.
“Call me Narcissa.”
Hermione smiled and nodded. Narcissa smiled as well. Hermione lifted her coffee to her lips and felt the pressure of a strong arm wrap around her midsection. Draco’s mouth pressed lightly against her exposed collarbone. Her cheeks heated as Narcissa watched the intimate exchange. Draco moved around the sofa and sat next to her, wearing just his pajama bottoms.
“Good morning, darling,” he said. “Good morning, Mother.”
“Good morning, son,” Narcissa responded with a smile. “Coffee?”
Draco nodded, and she began fixing him a cup while he shifted Hermione sideways and placed her legs across his lap.
“I thought maybe you could join us for breakfast before heading into work?” Narcissa asked. “I’ve got some owls to send before that.”
Hermione and Draco both nodded. Narcissa patted Draco’s cheek as she walked out of the library.
“You told your mother how I take my coffee?” Hermione asked.
“I tell my mother everything about you.”
He shrugged and sipped his coffee. Hermione’s eyes bulged.
“Everything?”
She could feel the heat rising up her neck and over her cheeks.
“Yes, Granger. She knows it all.”
Hermione melted into the couch a bit more.
“What else did my mother say?”
“She said you used to talk about me in school.”
Draco studied her with a curious expression on his face.
“Yes…”
“Why?”
He leaned one arm back against the couch. His slouched position and smoldering look made Hermione dizzy. He was so good-looking it was disarming. She couldn’t focus when she gave her looks like that. His hair was perfectly messy, his eyes still soft with sleepiness, and the timber to his voice in the morning was enchanting.
“Come now, Granger,” he said. “You’re a clever witch.”
“Because you…” She felt so silly. So insecure saying the words out loud. Words that she wished more than anything were true. “Because you care for me?”
“Hermione Granger, I’ve been in love with you since the moment you broke my nose third year. Probably even before that, I just was too stupid to acknowledge it.”
The oxygen was sucked from her body. She was stunned into silence. He leaned forward and tucked one of her curls behind her ear.
“I have committed as much of you to my memory as I can,” he said. “You take up every space, every thought, every moment of happiness. Because I never thought, in a million lifetimes, I would ever be deserving of you.”
He searched her eyes; his own were masked with insecurity.
“I love you,” he said. “And you bloody terrified me this week.”
The coffee cup tumbled out of her hands and onto the sofa. She wrapped herself around him and listened as his coffee cup crashed to the floor as well. Her mouth connected hard with his, and he wrapped his arms protectively around her.
“I love you,” she whispered against him. “I love you.”