Breaking The Pattern

They’d been keeping their relationship secret, for obvious reasons. 

Draco was an ex-death eater who narrowly avoided time in Azkaban. And while Potter had testified for him and his mother, he was hardly his biggest fan.

If anything, he was angry Draco had returned to Hogwarts this year. He’d remarked to Hermione that he thought Draco would just live out his days in his monolithic manor, swimming in Galleons.

Draco had to ask Hermione to explain how he was expected to swim in a pile of gold.

It was hard for him to watch her from afar throughout the day. Walking with Potter and Weasley or hunched over a table, studying by herself. But at night, they spent nearly every moment together, learning the lines of each other’s bodies.

Draco was falling hard for Granger.

If his parents knew the depth of his feelings… well he didn’t want to think about that.

He lies to himself, pretending as though he can’t identify the warm hum that moves through his being whenever she is with him.

For now, they can just enjoy each other’s company. 

Draco had always been a prat about Granger’s intelligence. He realizes now that was incredibly stupid on his part.

She was the only person that could match his own mind.

They were equals.

Draco found himself constantly berating past him for being so thick about blood status. Sure, he was raised differently than Granger. Had quite a few advantages over her. But she is bright, ambitious, and altogether much more a Slytherin than a Gryffindor. 

As the weeks drove on, Draco found ways to insert himself into Granger’s daytime hours just as much as her evening.

They were partners in Potions and in Charms.

He staked a fairly aggressive claim on the study table opposite hers, so he could watch her chew the end of her muggle pen, or a licorice wand he’d slipped into her robes.

He even volunteered to help with the rebuilding effort. Much of the castle was still in disrepair. The magic refusing to knit its walls back together at any pace faster than dripping molasses.

It was easy to explain away his eagerness to help as a fulfillment of his requirements to remain a free man.

But he couldn’t insert himself into everything.

She sat in the Great Hall between Potter and Longbottom, across from Weasley and his sister.

He’d taken to sitting on the opposite bench, just so he could watch her stir her tea or butter her toast.

Which is why on a stormy morning in December, Draco breaks their agreement to keep their relationship a secret.

Because Granger isn’t spreading butter on toast. Or stirring her tea.

She’s sitting, statue still, reading a small note over and over.

Potter doesn’t notice. He’s probably playing footsie with the female Weasley. The Weasel is too busy shoving sausages into his mouth.

Draco sets down his fork and thinks about what he is doing. If he walks over there, everyone will know. It won't just be the two of them in their own little world.

But then, Granger brings her hand to her mouth and her shoulders curve in.

He’s on his feet in a split second, across the room in a moment.

“Malfoy, what do you-,” Weasley says around the food in his mouth.

Draco straddles the bench beside Granger and puts a hand low on her back.

She’s breathing heavily.

“Granger,” he says gently.

She turns to look at him and the tears in her eyes spill over, rushing down her cheeks.

Dropping the letter in her hands, she throws herself into his arms, shaking.

“What is it?” he asks. “What’s the matter?” 

Tracing circles on her back, he ignores the gaping looks from her friends.

Potter is trying to ask her what’s wrong as well.

Weasley is sat staring daggers at Draco.

Hermione speaks into his robes but he can’t make anything out between her hiccuping and the muffling fabric.

He rests his chin on the top of her head and looks at the note she dropped.

It’s from the Ministry.

“Malfoy,” Harry asks him a dozen questions in that one word.

Draco ignores him, his heart sinking.

Granger’s parents are dead. A car crash. A bloody car crash.

People are staring. 

“Granger, come on, look at me.”

She looks up, snot running from her nose, and her breath shaky.

“I am so sorry,” he says, bringing his left hand to the back of her neck, knowing she likes when he does so. At least when they are being intimate.

Fuck, he doesn’t know how to handle this.

“I can’t… be… here,” she hiccups, clinging to him.

Draco watches as Potter reaches for the note.

At least he realizes now is not the time to ask Draco why he is comforting someone he is supposed to detest.

Pulling her close, Draco picks her up, standing from the table and letting her legs wrap around his waist.

Everyone is staring now.

Draco is grateful she has tucked her face into his neck, unaware of their audience.

“I’ll take her upstairs,” he says to her friends.

Harry has passed the letter to Ginny Weasley.

“I can-,” Harry stands, ready to follow.

Draco shakes his head, “I’ve got her.”

Leaving the Great Hall in clear confusion, Draco carries Granger all the way to the Eighth Year tower, into his room.

She doesn’t let him put her down, so he just sits down on the side of his bed and lets her curl into his side.

Draco Malfoy is not an emotionally available person.

He is not good at parsing out how he should behave on a daily basis. How is he supposed to handle this?

They’re dead. Both of her parents.

She’d talked about them a lot. How much she had regretted obliviating them. He’d told her she’d done the right thing. That she’d saved them.

But now? What was it for?

She cries for what feels like hours, until she goes silent, her body trying to keep her alive. Keep her breathing.

He keeps his hands tight around her. His lips pressed to the top of her head.

“They’re dead.”

It’s the first thing she has said in hours.

They’d missed two classes. He won’t point that out. Knowing Granger, she’d probably spiral again at the realization.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he says as she pulls herself from his arms.

Wiping at her face, she inhales.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything right now.”

“I don’t want to feel this. Draco,” she looks at him with desperation in her eyes.

Whatever she needs, he will get it for her.

“What can I do?”

She wipes at her face again. 

“Make me feel something else.” 

Her eyes are still watery. Her face is red. Her hair is tangled. 

Draco should say no. It will only make things messier. He should get Potter. Bring her to her own room. Figure out what else she needs.

“Please,” she says, voice thick with emotion.

Whatever she needs.

He leans into her, cupping her chin and kissing her even as she sniffles.

“I’m right here, Hermione. Be here, with me,” Draco speaks against her skin.

She nods and Draco lets that spur him on.

Taking his school robes off quickly, he stands and pulls her ankles to the edge of the bed, removing her ugly brown shoes.

He kneels in front of her and presses kisses up her leg, from her ankle to her knee.

She lays back against the sheets, fully clothed.

Once her shoes are off, he slips off her socks and then kisses his way up her body, hands slipping under her skirt to her hips.

“Draco,” she pleads, her fingers in his hair.

He looks up at her.

She needs more.

“Stand up.”

And she does.

So he grabs his wand and vanishes her clothes, pressing a scorching kiss against her lips.

Then he lays her back, letting his hands ghost over her body, and kneeling once more.

“Focus on your body,” he says, spreading her knees and putting them over his shoulders. “Focus on the way my skin feels against yours.”

Draco leans in and skims his teeth over the soft flesh of her inner thigh, one hand tight on her hip and the other digging into her other thigh.

She wiggles in his grip and he glances up, where fresh tears fall down the side of her face.

“Touch your tits, Granger. Pinch your nipples.” He instructs.

After a breath, she follows his instructions. Her hands leave the mattress and lay over her breasts.

Draco smiles to himself, refocusing on the sweet cunt in front of him.

He moves as slowly but tantalizingly as he can until he is pressing closed kisses against her mound.

Only when she bucks up, does he lick her folds, pleased with the mewling sounds that have replaced her sobs.

“Please,” she moves a hand to his hair once more and he lets her press him closer to her searing skin.

He moves his tongue against her, suckling at her clit and pinching the skin of her legs.

It takes a couple of minutes for her to relax under him, letting him have his way with her.

Hopefully she has slipped into pleasure. 

Gasping, Granger tightens her legs around his shoulders and lets loose a moan.

Draco adds a finger to his ministrations and uses his other hand to press down on her stomach. She starts bucking and he pushes his index finger inside of her, sucking more on her clit and tracing ancient runes into her skin.

“God, I’m so close,” she cries out, on the edge of bliss.

Draco doesn’t even pull back to tell her to cum, instead just humming against her.

She rushes over a peak and makes a keening sound that convinces Draco he is in love with her.

He loves her.

What a shite moment to realize that.

Her entire body spasms as he licks her sweet pussy, lapping up her cum.

She loosens her legs and he stands, laying himself on top of her and kissing her with her orgasm still on his lips.

“Thank you,” she says, exhausted.

She loops her arms around his neck.

“Anything, Granger. Anything,” he scoops her up once more and reorients them so that he is leaned up against the headboard.

“I don’t understand. I just-,” she grips onto his shirt and he realizes she is still naked.

Pulling a blanket over both of them, he looks down at her pale face.

She’s exhausted.

“Shh,” he whispers. “Close your eyes, Hermione. Just rest. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.”

Nodding, she burrows into him, closing her eyes tightly, a single tear escaping.

Draco listens to her breathing slow and even out.

She’s lost her entire world. When she wakes up, nothing will have changed. Draco tries to remember how easy things had been just a few hours ago.

Draco loves her.

That might be a bit of an oversimplification.

Draco Malfoy loves Hermione Granger. The brave, brilliant, damaged, witch of his dreams.