Chapter 6
Flashback - 'Memories'
December 23, 1997
“It’s shocking to me that you managed to stay on your broom back at school Potter,” Draco mocked. “You have the coordination of a newborn baby.”
“We’ve been at this for two hours,” Harry groaned. “I’m tired. Can’t we just take a break?”
“Not until you manage to get a hit on me.”
“Why are you so adamant about this Malfoy? Besides, I know how to duel.”
“You know how to disarm and occasionally stun,” Draco corrected. “But this is a war. You won’t be going up against classmates and have a teacher to bail you out. Death Eaters are ruthless and won’t hesitate to rip the limbs from your body. So, if your wish is to survive then quit pouting, grow some balls and run it again.”
“You’re a dick, you know that?”
“I’m well aware but thanks for the reminder. Now go again.”
Letting out an irritated huff, Harry raised his wand. Hermione intently watched as he cast spell after spell, each failing to make contact with his opponent. Draco’s movements were fluid as he blocked each hex. He moved across the field with precision but remained casual enough to make it impossible for even Hermione to decipher what he was going to do next.
There was something addicting to the way Draco lazily moved his wand through the air. His arrogance bled into his fighting style and it greatly benefited him. Harry was the opposite, he was unsure of himself and let his feelings take over. As his frustration grew, he became sloppier and more predictable.
Hermione rolled her eyes and let out a soft chuckle as the boys began bickering when Draco managed to, once again, disarm Harry and knock him to the ground. They both swore up and down that they detested one another and while that may have held true in the past, the same couldn’t be said now.
Over the past month, she watched as they slowly began to open up to one another. Their meetings that once consisted of Harry primarily speaking to her had turned into all three of them bouncing ideas off of one another. And the insults they once threw in an attempt to wound the ego of the other had shifted into friendly banter. That’s not to say Harry and Draco were best friends by any means but they were cordial.
While Harry continued to accuse Draco of not playing fair and while Draco continued to reply to such accusations with snide remarks, Hermione turned her attention to the news clipping hidden between the pages of her book.
During her short trip to Diagon Alley, Hermione came across an issue of the Daily Prophet on her way over to Gringotts. She was never one to care for the fatuous gossip that Rita Skeeter chose to publish but curiosity got the best of her. It had been ages since she had seen anything from the life she had once known and after her talk with Draco, she yearned for more information on the current state of everything.
The Grim: The Latest Deadly Weapon In Voldemort’s Regime
The mention of Voldemort’s name in the title was what caused her to rip out the article and shove it into her pocket before apparating back to the campsite. Hermione waited until Harry was asleep to read it. She wanted to figure out what this new weapon was before adding more fuel to the agitated-induced fire that burned within him.
Sneaking out of the tent and using the dim light emanating from the fire, Hermione unfolded the clipping and began reading. She was only halfway through when she felt her stomach drop. Her mind was racing as she scanned the first three paragraphs over and over and over again, hoping and praying that she was wrong, but she wasn’t.
The deadly weapon that Skeeter was referring to was Draco.
Hermione had a hunch that it might have been when it stated that the Death Eater, though masked, was young and most likely fell between the ages of seventeen and twenty. But it wasn’t until Skeeter mentioned “The Grim’s” use of legilimency that it struck her. Only a few hours earlier that day Hermione was sitting against the charred wall of what used to be Ollivanders and watched as Draco performed the exact act that was mentioned. She knew then that for the first time in their friendship, she couldn’t share her findings with Harry.
She was protecting Harry. She knew that the wound caused by Ron’s departure was still fresh and he had only just begun to lower his walls when it came to Draco. She knew that if she told him that there was a new individual that people deemed worse than Voldemort, he’d demand to know who. And she knew that when she informed him that it was Draco, there would be no recovery from it. He would never trust Draco and would refuse his help.
At the same time, she was also protecting Draco. She didn’t know what would happen to whatever deal he had with Remus if Harry refused his assistance. Would Remus then refuse his help as well? Would his partnership with the Order come to an end? Would he be forced to retreat back to the Death Eaters full-time? And then what would happen to his future plans post-war, should he come up with any?
No. She wasn’t going to be the reason that even more of Draco’s life was stripped away from him. She couldn’t. She refused. He had already done so much and he deserved to reap the benefits.
Ever since then, Hermione often found herself worrying about Draco. She’d lay awake at night wondering if he was okay – if he was safe. The image of his torn-up body haunted her. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve the scars from his father and while she understood Harry’s reasoning, he didn’t deserve the one that stretched across his abdomen either.
Draco was rude, and condescending and seemingly got off on pushing people’s buttons but he was far more complex than the arse he presented himself to be. More than once he had helped Hermione, even though she hadn’t asked him to. He seemed to always know what to say or do to help calm her and not once did he ever make her feel ashamed or embarrassed afterwards. He was, to her surprise, kind and thoughtful… in his own special way.
“What do you say, Granger?” Draco asked, the sudden mention of her name pulling her from her thoughts.
“To what?”
“You and me.”
“Y-you and me?” she choked out as she felt a burning heat crawl up her neck.
“Yes, I could use a duelling partner that actually knows what they’re doing,” Draco replied as he flashed a taunting smirk at Harry.
A duel, of course, that’s what he meant, Hermione thought to herself.
“Unless you’re scared,” he added.
“You don’t scare me, Malfoy.”
“Actions speak louder than words, Granger.”
Snapping her book shut, Hermione made her way over to where Harry was, removed her wand and asked, “What are the rules?”
Draco shook his head. “No rules but if you’re going to sever a limb, I’d prefer for it to be my left arm.”
“Why your left arm?”
“No particular reason,” he lied. “Potter, care to count us down?”
“With pleasure,” Harry stated as he stepped forward. “I hope she kicks your arse Malfoy.”
“That makes two of us.”
“On the count of three. One… two… three!”
The second Harry got out of the way, Hermione cast a stupefy but just like before with Harry, Draco effortlessly blocked it. Wanting to not only prove herself but also chip away at his ego, she sent another stupefy, then a levicorpus and then an everte statum.
“I’m getting bored here,” Draco said as he let out an exaggerated yawn and continued to counter each of her hexes.
Beams of light flew through the air as Hermione muttered every spell that came to mind. With each snap of her wrist, she took a step forward. Draco matched each advance as his lips pulled into a cheeky grin.
Now with only a foot of space between them, Hermione threw one last hex. It was of no surprise to her when it failed to hit her cocky opponent but she never anticipated his next move. In one swift step, Draco positioned himself behind Hermione. His arm laid across her chest as he pulled her back into him and lightly pressed his wand into the side of her neck.
“Stay alert, Granger,” he whispered, his mouth brushing against her ear. The warmth of his breath caused a chill to trickle down her spine and goosebumps to cover her arms.
Breaking away from his hold, Hermione turned around and waited for him to look away before raising her wand and muttering, “Incarcerous.” Immediately, thick pieces of rope wrapped tightly around his body, binding his arms and legs together. As Draco toppled onto the ground, Hermione rushed forward, straddled his torso, pressed her forearm into his chest and positioned the tip of her wand under his chin.
“Stay alert, Malfoy,” she mocked, a smug look on her face.
“I didn’t realise you were into bondage,” he replied with a smirk. “Always so full of surprises.”
“I like to keep you on your toes. Keep things interesting, you know?”
“Ah yes, I would hate to see the day where you become predictable, Granger.”
Still on top of him with their faces only a few inches apart, Hermione found herself completely intoxicated by the close proximity. She could feel his heart rate slowly increasing to match hers and watched as the silver irises that always managed to fluster her faded into the darkness as his pupils dilated.
Aside from the occasional shoulder brush when passing by one another, the time Draco angrily grabbed her by the wrist after her less-than-wise choice to leave the campsite and the few times that she had healed him, any sort of physical touch had ceased to exist, until now. With her legs pressed against the sides of his torso and her chest against his, Hermione was finally able to answer a question that had been eating away at her for the last few weeks.
She was attracted to him.
Hermione knew that there had been… moments between them but she had always refused to give them a second thought. But now, it’s all she could think about. Every time she’d look in his direction just to find that he was already staring at her and all of the times she’d zone out while looking at his lips. The way his voice, specifically when saying her last name, caused her stomach to flip and turn like a young schoolgirl. Every glance, every moment of back-and-forth banter and shared silence spent under the night sky consumed her mind.
How did this happen, she asked herself. How did she go from threatening to shoot a hex through his skull that night at the burrow to now getting clammy hands and feeling her cheeks turn pink when near him? It didn’t make sense, it couldn’t make sense and yet, it made perfect sense.
Everything about him was a mystery at first. He perfectly shielded his true self from the world, only allowing people to know what he wanted them to. But as he gradually began to open up and reveal himself to Hermione, she couldn’t help but be intrigued.
Draco Malfoy was like fire – capable of destruction but also of providing warmth and light on the coldest of nights. And even though you knew it would burn you, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you reached into the flames.
“What’s your next move here, Granger?” Draco questioned as his gaze shifted between her eyes and lips.
“I’m still weighing out my options,” she replied. “If I killed you right now then that would be one less Death Eater roaming the streets.”
“Surely you’d receive an award for such an honourable service.”
“Oh, I certainly would. It would be big, made entirely of gold and would hang above my fireplace.”
“Like a true war hero,” he smirked.
“And what a title that would be,” she replied with a playful grin. “Could you imagine the number of jobs I’d be offered?”
“They’d have to allocate an entire parliament of owls just to deliver them to you.”
“They would, wouldn’t they?” Hermione smiled proudly. “But here’s the thing,” she whispered as she leaned in closer. “I wouldn’t be able to constantly remind you of the time I beat you in a duel if you were dead.”
“Well we can’t have that, now can we?”
“No, we can not.”
“Surely that brilliant mind of yours would figure out a way to torment me with such a fact even if I were dead.”
“Most likely. Hate to break it to you Malfoy, but even death won’t be able to keep you from me.”
“You two make me sick,” Harry interjected as he hunched over and pretended to throw up.
The truth was, Harry didn’t mind. He wasn’t a fan of third wheeling but if Hermione was happy, then so was he. It was odd though, seeing his best friend bat her eyes at the boy she used to have nothing nice to say about back at school. It was even more strange watching them fall for one another without even realising it. Harry constantly felt like he was intruding on them when he was around. The lingering stares, the playful insults and apparently they’ve now upgraded to full-on dry humping in front of him.
Still, it was nice to have something that reminded him that even though they were in the midst of a war, they were still just teenagers. Teenagers who made mistakes, got angry with one another, said things that they didn't mean and fell in love - even if it was with a Death Eater.
Draco wasn’t particularly someone that Harry would’ve picked for Hermione if he had a say in the matter. But he could see the way both of their energies shifted when with each other. Hermione had always been rather high strung and her mind was constantly going a million miles a minute but when Draco was around, she seemed to relax and settle into the leisurely lifestyle they were currently having to live.
When it came to Draco, he seemed to have a permanent look of boredom, except when around Hermione. Harry didn’t notice at first but once he did, it was impossible to miss how Draco’s eyes seemed to light up when talking to her and how his usually pursed lips would fade into a soft smile. It was unsettling for Harry to see Draco smile, he never thought the bloke was capable of such an expression. Aside from the urge to want to hurl when seeing them flirt and feeling his own heart ache as he wished he could have Ginny with him, Harry had almost forgotten a key factor.
Ron.
Despite Hermione making it clear several times that they were strictly friends, Ron had held onto the fantasy that they would one day be together. Harry knew that it was delusional and that once Hermione had her mind made up, there would be no changing it. But he also knew that Ron was the same. There was nothing Harry could do or say to convince him otherwise. Harry feared the day that Ron rejoined the group, he knew that it was bound to happen eventually but for now, he hoped that it would be later rather than sooner.
Harry wasn’t in the mood to clean up Ron’s insides off of the floor after trying to fight Draco for “stealing” his girl.
What he was in the mood for was a variety in their meals, at least for one day. Harry appreciated that Draco brought them any food to begin with but could only consume bread, potatoes and crackers so many times before the mere thought of them was enough to make him want to vomit.
He had discussed requesting a special meal a few days ago with Hermione. With Christmas approaching, Harry figured it would be the perfect time to ask for such. He thought perhaps even Draco Malfoy would tend to be more charitable around the holidays. He wasn’t an idiot though, Harry knew that if he actually wanted a chance at getting Draco to say yes, Hermione had to be the one to ask.
“Hey Hermione, have you had that talk with Malfoy yet?” Harry asked as Hermione cut the ropes off of Draco.
“Talk? What talk?” Draco questioned.
“Harry…” Hermione said with a warning tone.
“The one about Christmas,” Harry replied, ignoring the death glare being shot his way.
“Christmas?” Draco’s head cocked as he looked at Hermione. “What talk did you need to have with me about Christmas?”
“It’s nothing important,” she said as she shook her head. Meeting Draco’s stare, Hermione realised that he wasn’t going to move on from the topic until she answered his question. Letting out a sigh, she said, “We were just wondering if it would be possible for you to bring some sort of Christmas meal. I understand that you have a lot going on and that you’ve already done so much for us. As I said, it’s not that important so I understand if you say n-”
“Okay,” Draco answered casually.
“Okay?”
“Yes Granger, okay,” he repeated. “I’ll have Bippy put something together. I have something to do in the morning but I can come by around six on Christmas. Does that work?”
“Y-yes, that’d be lovely. Thank you, Malfoy,” she smiled.
Draco felt a pressure in his chest like someone had grabbed onto his heart and squeezed it. “Er-you’re welcome,” he replied as he wiped the sweat from his palms on the back of his pants.
Present Day
As Draco made his way outside and approached Hermione, who was still sitting underneath the family oak tree, Draco felt his heart rate increase and his hands begin to sweat. Even after all of this time, he still found himself just as nervous when around her. She was so beautiful. For a moment, he considered turning around and leaving her alone but before he could, she caught sight of him.
“Hi,” she smiled.
“Hi,” he smiled back.
“Want to join me?” Hermione asked as she motioned to the space beside her.
Of course, he wanted to join her. Even while he destroyed his father’s study he couldn’t take his mind off of her. Even if she still refused his touch, being near her was enough. Crouching down, Draco joined her in the grass and followed her line of sight over to the peacocks.
“Did you know that-”
“I wanted to talk to you about-”
They said at the same time, causing them both to chuckle.
“You first,” Draco prompted.
“Did you know that the white peacock symbolises nirvana in Buddhism?”
“I didn’t.” That was a lie, he knew that. His father had given him a whole lecture on the history of white peacocks when he first bought them. Any fact that Hermione could say, Draco more than likely already knew. But the only thing he would gain from telling her that would be feeling like a proper prat. So instead, he sat back and listened as she shared her knowledge with him.
“... and they turn white as they mature,” Hermione finished as she looked over at Draco. “Sorry, I kind of went on a tangent there.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Apologise,” he explained. “There’s nothing to be apologising for.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “Sorry.”
“Granger…” Draco sighed.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to– sorry– shit–sor–okay I’m just going to stop talking now,” she giggled. “What about you? What were you going to say?”
“Right,” he exhaled. “I just wanted to talk to you about earlier. About why I had to walk away for a moment.”
“Oh, okay.” Hermione uncomfortably shifted in place and anxiously brushed her hands against her pants.
“It’s nothing bad,” he assured her. “I just wanted to be honest with you.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“I’ve been having a hard time, with a lot of things but specifically regarding us,” Draco began. “The distance between us has been tough and not just the physical distance but the emotional one too. You used to talk to me and other than today, we’ve barely spoken. I know that it’s not my fault but most days it feels like it is, like there’s something that I’m doing wrong. I’m by no means trying to make you feel guilty for such. I just wanted to tell you how I feel.”
“How long have you been holding this in?”
“A while. I thought that by keeping it all bottled in I was helping, that I was saving you from more pain but I realised that wasn’t true. If anything, I feel like pretending to be okay and having it all together only made you feel even more isolated from your feelings. Of course, I could be wrong and you could tell me to go fuck myself by all means.”
“I would never tell you to go fuck yourself, Draco,” she said, her lips pulling up into a smile.
“Oh thank Merlin, I really didn’t feel like figuring out how to do that,” he joked which caused her to laugh.
He loved the sound of her laugh. He would do anything to hear it more often.
“Thank you for being honest with me,” Hermione said. “I know you told me not to but I am sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like any of this was your fault. We both know that it’s not.”
There was more that she wanted to say but was holding back, Draco could tell.
“What else is on your mind, Granger?”
“I’m just afraid of being like this forever,” she admitted. “I know that I should be grateful to be here with you in the first place but I’m scared that one day you’ll wake up and grow tired of the fact that I’ll never fully be the same girl you had fallen in love with. I know I suggested that you move on but the truth is, I think I’ll selfishly never want you to.”
“Can I take you somewhere?” he asked. “I promise it won’t be an empty field.”
Hermione nodded before standing and following Draco inside. As they walked down different corridors, Hermione realised that she had never seen this area of the manor before. She primarily stayed within the left wing where Draco’s room was.
“I had wanted to take you here a long time ago but it took some time to gather everything,” Draco said as they approached the black wooden french doors.
“What is it?”
“Why don’t you see for yourself,” he smirked as he turned the handle and held the door open for her.
Stepping in, Hermione’s eyes grew twice their normal size as she took in the hundreds of books that surrounded her. Each area was sorted by genre and within each shelf, the books were organised alphabetically by the author’s last name – just how she liked it.
“From Jane Austen to Bathilda Bagshot, it’s all in here,” Draco stated. “A majority of them are first editions but there were a few that I couldn’t find, I’ll keep looking though.”
It was an overwhelming feeling, the emotions that Hermione was experiencing. There weren’t enough words within the English language to properly explain how much she loved it and him. She wanted to cry but she swallowed them back, deciding that she had cried enough for one day.
“There’s one in particular that I wanted to show you,” Draco told her as he walked over to the left wall and retrieved a small green book.
“You still have it?”
“Of course I do, it’s the most valuable book in this entire room,” he replied. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Granger. There will never be a time in which I grow tired of you. No matter how long it takes or even if you never do find your way back to who you believe is the girl that I had fallen in love with, I’m not going anywhere. Though, I’d like to argue that the girl I had fallen for hasn’t gone anywhere. You’re still her, Hermione.”
As she stared down at the book within his grasp, she felt a switch flip. She had two options at this moment; she could either continue to wallow in self-pity and rob herself of any sort of happiness or she could be grateful for the second chance, for the time she could spend with Draco – even if it wasn’t how she pictured their future together.
She knew that if her dad were with her, he would sit her down and pull out the very book that Draco was clutching onto and he’d tell her that the hard days don’t have to last forever if she didn’t want them to.
Hermione was tired of the suffering, the anger and the frustration. So, she released it all. She accepted all of the decisions that led up to this moment and reminded herself of why she made them in the first place. They were for him, they were for Draco. They were for the boy that helped ease her panic attacks, who delivered a home-cooked meal on Christmas and the boy who, without even being asked, brought her a piece of home to help cheer her up.
Flashback - 'Fallen'
December 25, 1997
Roasted turkey, potatoes, various steamed vegetables and Christmas puddings were easily secured by Draco. Bippy practically sang from happiness when she received the request and happily packaged it all into a small woven basket for him. But the one thing that turned out to be difficult to obtain was the address of Hermione’s childhood home.
Last week when Draco had informed Harry and Hermione of Luna’s recent capture, he saw the weight of the war begin to crush Hermione. Hearing that a classmate of hers, someone she even considered a friend, was now being used as bait to lure them out was what finally pushed her off the edge.
After an hour or so, and against Harry’s warnings, Draco left the tent to find her. Hermione was sitting down by the lake, staring out at the still water. He didn’t say anything, just took the seat beside her and waited for her to speak first. When she did, she didn’t talk about Luna or Voldemort or anything regarding the war. Instead, she told him about a book that her parents used to read to her as a kid.
“Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, it was my absolute favourite,” she told him. “I remember hanging on to every word as my dad read about the fairies dancing to the music of the panpipes and how they taught Peter to fly. All I wanted as a child was the ability to do so. It’s ironic, really, the fact that I can fly now but absolutely detest it.”
Draco remained silent, knowing that Hermione didn’t want a conversation, she just wanted someone to listen.
“My parents would always read it to me when I had a nightmare or a hard day,” she continued. “Even as I got older I refused to part with it. It remained in the same spot on my nightstand right beside the photo of my parents and I. It’s times like these when I wish I had brought it with me so that I could have a piece of home, a piece of them.”
Draco knew then that he needed to get it for her. After a few threats and an imperio or two, he finally got his hands on the address. Now standing in front of the brick house, Draco cautiously stepped up onto the front porch and knocked on the white door. He didn’t know what he was going to say if her parents were home and answered the door, but he figured he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
To his relief, no one answered. He knocked two more times for good measure before taking out his wand, unlocking the door and letting himself in. It looked exactly like he imagined it would. Warming, inviting and like a real family lived there. Draco could feel the love that filled the home as he looked over the photos that lined the fireplace mantel.
Making his way upstairs, he peeked into each room until he located what he presumed to be Hermione’s. The books covering the walls are what validated his theory. Just like she had told him that night by the water, sitting on her bedside table was a green worn-down book with the words Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens in gold lettering on the cover.
Grabbing the book, Draco took one last look around her room before apparating back to the manor.
~~~
“Surely you can take a day off, it’s Christmas Draco,” Narcissa stated as she trailed behind him while he moved through the kitchen.
“I already told you, mother, I can’t,” he replied as he grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey and tucked it into the basket of food.
“This important business of yours requires alcohol?” she questioned.
“I’m assuming Potter will give some sort of speech at one point tonight, so yes, it does.”
“You’re going to see them? That’s who all of this is for?”
“I thought that was obvious. Did you think I was putting all of this together for the homeless?” he mocked.
“Oh darling,” she sighed. “It’s happened, hasn’t it? You’ve fallen for her, the Granger girl.”
“Have you gone mad?” Draco questioned as he spun on his heels to face Narcissa. “I haven’t fallen for anyone, especially not Granger,” he said as if it were the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I mean could you imagine? Me. Falling for her. That’s the most insane thing you’ve ever said, mother. She’s single-handedly the most stubborn, self-righteous, maddening witch I’ve ever met and despite her brilliance, she makes the dumbest decisions.”
“You’re right Draco, how could I be so foolish? You don’t like her.”
“Thank you for-”
“You’re in love with her.”
“What?! What in Merlin’s name has caused you to believe that? Did you not hear a word I just said?”
“No, I heard you loud and clear,” she replied. “And I know how to recognise when a man is in love. Please tell me that you have a gift for her in that basket of yours.”
“A gift?”
“Yes, a gift. A man can’t show up on Christmas day without a gift of some sort for the woman that he’s courting.”
“I’m not courting her,” Draco said defensively as he watched his mother search the contexts of the basket.
“What’s this?” Narcissa asked as she held up the item he had retrieved from Hermione’s childhood home.
“A book.”
“Yes, I can see that it’s a book. But is it for her?”
“Yes?”
“Okay, so you do have a gift, good.” Placing the book back into the basket, Narcissa looked up at Draco. “I’m happy that you’ve finally found someone, Draco. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, I hope you’ll allow me to meet her someday.”
“I’m not courting her, mother,” he reiterated.
“That’s what your father said about me in the beginning too,” she smiled as she gently placed her hand on his cheek.
~~~
“I’d like to take this time to give a speech,” Harry announced as he raised his glass.
Draco bit the inside of his cheek to suppress his laughter.
“Something funny, Malfoy?” he asked.
“No, no,” Draco replied as he shook his head. “Carry on with your speech, Potter.”
“Happily. I’d like to start this speech by thanking those who aren’t with us tonight. Remus, Tonks, Dobby, Ron, even that evil little shit Kreacher. I hope they’re all enjoying a meal that’s at least half as delicious as ours,” Harry stated as he swayed in place. “Now onto those who are in attendance. To Hermione, without whom I would’ve most likely misplaced my own head by now.”
Hermione let out a soft giggle as she raised her glass and took a sip.
“And to Malfoy!” Harry cheered. “You’re a real piece of work but if it weren’t for you we would’ve starved by now.”
“And we would’ve never gotten the information about the Deathly Hallows,” Hermione added.
“And we would’ve never gotten the information about the Deathly Hallows,” Harry repeated, slurring every other word. “So cheers to you, dickhead!”
Draco raised his glass in the air and nodded his head slightly, “Cheers, fuckwit.”
As the night continued and Harry grew more and more intoxicated, Draco couldn’t stop thinking about what his mother had said to him. What did she mean by knowing how to recognise when a man is in love? He wasn’t in love. He wasn’t even sure he was capable of loving. And if he was, he certainly wasn’t in love with Hermione Granger.
There were times he couldn’t deny that he had maybe stared for too long or that the witch had crossed his mind when he was meant to be focusing on something else. But feelings? Actual feelings? Draco never had feelings for anyone before. He had dated Astoria Greengrass for a few months during fifth year but that was only because his parents had arranged the whole thing. There were no feelings involved, not on his end at least.
Relationships and love as a whole never made any sense to him. His parents were supposedly in love but they weren’t exactly a prime example of a healthy relationship. If anything, they showed him how idiotic one might become when “in love” and he wanted no part in it.
No. Draco was certain that he was by no means in love with Hermione Granger.
She was pretty though, he could admit that. And not the, ‘spent three hours to look pretty’ but naturally pretty. And she smelled nice, which surprised him considering she hadn’t had access to a proper shower in months. He liked talking to her too. Whether it be about ancient runes or something as simple as the weather. Draco never found himself bored when with her. Hermione could read off the encyclopaedia and he’d intently hang on her every word. He also liked who he was with her. She was one of the few people he felt safe enough to be his true self around.
But just because he could admit that a girl was attractive and Hermione was capable of holding a conversation didn’t automatically mean that he had any sort of feelings for her. Right?
“Another, Malfoy?” Hermione asked as she held up the half-empty bottle of firewhiskey.
He also liked the sound of her saying his name.
“That’d be great,” he replied as he held his glass out for her to fill.
As she sat down beside him and watched as Harry danced around the room with his pudding, Draco noted one last thing he liked. He liked her smile and even more so, he liked when he was the reason behind it.
Reaching over into the basket, Draco removed the small green book and said, “By the way, I got something for you.”
Hermione’s eyes went wide as she accepted the book, the bottle slipping from her other hand. Reaching out, Draco caught the bottle before it crashed onto the floor. When he looked back up, Hermione was gone.
Rushing out of the tent, Draco scanned the area until he spotted her small shadowed figure in the distance by the trees.
“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Draco asked as he approached her.
Spinning around, Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed as she narrowed her eyes.
“Where did you get this?!” she questioned.
“From your house,” he replied, confused by her hostility.
“Why? And how? How did you even know where to go?”
“It’s called records, Granger. There are thousands of them at the ministry and in case you forgot, the Death Eaters are currently in control of it. So it wasn’t that hard to find your address. Now are you going to tell me what has you so vexed or do I need to try and guess?”
“You didn’t answer the why,” she stated as she angrily crossed her arms.
Draco threw his head back and let out an exasperated sigh as he rolled his eyes before answering. “After the whole Lovegood situation, you told me that you wished you had it. To be honest, I thought you’d be less angry and far more grateful,” he admitted.
“So you went to the trouble of searching the records at the ministry to figure out where my parent’s house is and then proceeded to go there to get the book because I mentioned it one single time?”
“Yeah,” Draco nodded. “That about sums it up.”
Hermione stared at him, her gaze shifting from his left eye to his right and then down to his lips. The only sound filling the thick air between them was that of her heavy breaths and the loud thuds of her heartbeat assaulting her ears. She wondered if Draco could hear it too. It felt like she was about to explode, like her heart was going to burst out of her chest at any moment. Everything in her was telling her that what she was about to do next was a mistake. That she should just walk away and ignore the urges but she couldn’t.
Suddenly, Draco found himself backed into a tree with Hermione’s body pressed against his. His mind went blank and his body filled with a euphoric feeling as his lips moved in sync with hers. His right hand snaked around to the base of her neck while his left pressed onto the lower part of her back, pulling her closer to him. He wanted more. He needed more. As his mouth travelled down the side of her neck, Hermione let out a small moan.
“Malfoy,” she panted as she tugged at the bottom of his shirt.
It was at that moment that Draco realised just how fucked he was. No matter how hard he tried, he could no longer deny the fact that he was completely and utterly devoted to the snippy curly-haired witch.
As her fingers grazed his lower abdomen and fumbled with the clasp of his belt, Draco was forced back to reality. Hermione wasn’t some random girl that he wanted to use for a night of fun. She had managed to break down the steel wall that he had built around his heart and he’d be damned if he was going to have their first time be in some forest. He needed to, as his mother said, court her.
“Stop,” he said as he pulled away. “Not like this.”
Hermione’s face filled with horror as she retreated into herself. “I-I’m sorry-I shouldn’t have-I didn’t mean to-we can pretend like it never-”
“Breathe, Granger,” he instructed as he caressed her cheek. “It’s fine, you’re fine.”
“But you said…”
Draco shook his head as he pushed a curl out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “I know what I said,” he replied. “And I’m sorry if I made you think that I didn’t want this, that I didn’t want you. Because Merlin, if you knew the things that I wanted to do to you right now.”
“Then why did you tell me to stop? Why did you pull away?” she asked.
“Because you deserve better than some quick shag in the woods and I’d prefer it if you weren’t drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” she argued.
“You’re not sober,” he countered. “And neither am I.”
“So all of a sudden you have a moral compass when it comes to getting between a girl’s legs?”
“When that girl is you, yes. Besides, maybe you’ll change your mind in the morning and decide that you don’t even like me.”
“Is that what’s going to happen to you?”
It took everything in Draco to not laugh at the ridiculous question. “Granger, you have no idea how hard it is for me to restrain myself right now. I think it’s safe to say that come sunrise, I will still be completely bewitched by you.”
“No takebacks,” she smirked.
“That’s very childish but yes,” he smiled. “No takebacks.”