Breaking The Pattern

Draco watches as Hermione explains everything to her friends. He stands guard ten feet behind her, prepared to step in should anyone react badly.

He’s most worried about Weasley, who had been glaring at him since they emerged from his room after supper.

“How long?” Harry asks, his voice gentle.

Draco clenches his jaw. Why should it matter how long they’ve been seeing each other?

Hermione’s parents are dead. She’s lost everyone. Potter of all people should understand that.

“We’ve been writing since his trial. And then,” Hermione looks back at him and he nods. “We started seeing each other when we returned to Hogwarts.”

Weasley scoffs and Draco flexes his hand to avoid reaching for his wand. He needs to shut up and let Granger talk.

“And you’re sure he hasn’t cursed you? Slipped you a love potion?” The female Weasley asks her own idiotic question.

“Yes,” she surprises him. He’d be hurt if he didn’t know exactly what kind of person she is. Of course she would make sure he hadn’t Imperio’d her. 

Hermione Granger would never let anyone manipulate her. 

Draco’s head pounds as he thinks of her lying beneath Bellatrix, pain running through every part of her body. 

He’d never let anything like that happen to her again.

If anything, he should be the one checked for a love potion.

She is already more to him than family.

Blasphemous thoughts in the House of Malfoy.

“How can you be sure?” Weasley asks, his tone running irritation up Draco’s neck.

“Because, Ron, I have performed several detection charms and downed even more curing potions and I still love him.”

Draco blinks.

Hermione doesn’t look at him. 

Look at me.

She just confessed her love for him to Ronald Weasley! His name was in the blasted sentence, for Merlin’s sake.

Draco doesn’t ask her to turn around.

They can pretend he didn’t hear her say it. They can pretend she didn’t say it at all.

So that when they are both ready, they can say it in tandem.

“What are you going to do about your parents?” Potter asks and Draco grows to like him a tad bit more.

That’s why they are all gathered. Not to discuss the relationship between himself and Granger.

Hermione’s shoulders rise and fall and she lets out a large breath.

“I’m not sure. The letter Kingsley sent said that he would help me bring their bodies- bring them home. To London, I mean. Then I’ll have to put together a service. I have no idea how to get in touch with their friends.” 

Draco can hear the same panic in her voice as earlier.

“One thing at a time,” he walks forward, resting a chaste hand on her back.

She leans back into him and nods.

“I suppose I should start with getting to London. I’ll have to talk to McGonagall.”

“We can do that,” Harry stands up, gesturing between Ron and himself. “You can just pack a bag. I’m sure it’ll take more than a day to arrange things.”

Hermione nods, holding her hand out to Potter.

Draco watches as Harry walks towards her and wraps his hands around her shoulders, stepping back.

They are the best of friends. The Golden Trio. Draco isn’t jealous. Not anymore. 

She is his. He is hers.

But he can’t help but wish she was wrapped in his arms. 

Another pang of guilt wells up at the thought that this was the best-case scenario of her friends discovering their relationship.

As if proving his thought to be selfish, Draco and Harry make eye contact.

Over Hermione’s shoulder and out of everyone else’s eye line, Harry Potter mouths a thank you to Draco.

He just nods, uncomfortable all of a sudden.

When Potter pulls back he smiles at Hermione and reaches up to wipe away what are certainly more tears.

“Then it’s settled. Ron, Gin, and I will go talk to McGonagall and Malfoy can help you pack a bag.”

Weasley looks like he might disagree with the plan, but Ginny Weasley nods and sends him a meaningful look.

“Thank you. All of you. I don’t-” Hermione chokes on the last words.

“You won’t be alone through this,” Potter says, his eyes flashing with a memory.

Draco can’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up without his parents.

Once her friends leave, Hermione turns and nearly collapses into his arms.

“Come on, Granger. Let’s get you upstairs,” he murmurs.

Packing a bag proves easier than he would have thought.

She pulls a small purple bag out of a drawer and tosses it onto her bed. The noise of falling books enlightens Draco as to the uncanny abilities of the simple drawstring bag.

“I still haven’t unpacked it. It’s like I knew I’d need it again,” Granger says, sitting on her bed, letting her head fall into her hands.

Bad at this. Draco Malfoy is bad at feelings.

“My family has a flat in Diagon Alley.”

“What?”

“I just thought you would probably need somewhere to stay and I-,” Draco runs his hand over his scalp, shrugging.

“Are you offering me your parent’s flat?”

He nods.

She cracks a smile. It’s small and kind of pitiful, but it is real.

“Draco, thank you. You’ve somehow managed to make this all a bit easier.”

“I told you, Granger. Whatever you need.”

“I used to dislike that you refused to call me by my first name,” she stands up and embraces him, pressing her cheek to his chest and linking her hands behind his back.

He looks down at her in question.

“Dr. Eleanor Granger and Dr. Henry Granger. They gave me their name. I quite like the reminder. Even if it is painful right now.”

He leans down to kiss her brow but she looks up at him a second before and her lips hit his own.

“It’s a lovely name, Granger,” he says between kisses.

She smiles again, fresh tears spilling over.

He hates to see her cry. 

“What can I do?” he whispers.

She shakes her head and lays her cheek once more on his chest.

He has never felt so useless. She turns and packs a few fresh outfits into her bag along with a black dress he’d already seen her in at the start of term. A mourning dress.

Then they sit together on her bed, waiting for one of her friends to show up.

She doesn’t last very long like that. She stands up and starts pacing. Then her left hand snakes into her hair, pulling on a curl until it sits limp, longer than the rest.

Finally, when she starts mumbling to herself, he stands up and grabs her wrist.

“Follow me.”

“But Draco. What if they can’t find me?” She pulls out of his grasp.

“You and I both know that McGonagall agreed to let you use the floo. There isn’t anything else to be done until your parents arrive in London. There is nothing else to do tonight. So, follow me. Please,” he offers his hand.

Weighing it all, she bites her lip and takes it.

He pulls her gently behind him down the steps and out through the common room into the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer, letting that be the loudest question in her mind.

They go down three more flights of stairs and she asks him four more times before they stop in front of a cupboard on the first floor, where Draco knows very little is being stored.

Opening the door, he turns to a nearly irate Hermione, and nods.

“You are kidding me.”

“I am not,” he pulls her into him and dips her back, hoping his kiss is distracting enough that she won’t overthink their destination.

He turns them so that she is standing in the small doorway of the cupboard.

“You won’t fit.” She presses her hands against his chest to stop him from ducking into the small cupboard himself.

“Are you calling me fat?” He asks.

“Draco, your knees are practically at my waist. You’d have to bend nearly in half to squeeze in.” She tries to reason. Too bad for her, Draco is beyond reason with her so close. His hands on her waist slip just under the hem of her shirt.

“Don’t worry about me, Granger. I’ll squeeze in.”

“Why don’t we just find an empty classroom?” She sounds a bit annoyed. That won’t do.

“Because, a broom closet is on my list.”

“List?”

“Of places I’ve fantasized shagging you.” 

That was a mistake. 

She shoves at his chest until they both tumble out of the closet.

“Promise me you did not make a list.” The way her eyebrows pinch together in anger makes Draco want to press her against the wall and have his way with her.

“Would that I could,” he makes his tone light.

She continues to glare.

“Granger, I have a list of all of the places I want to ravish you. Is that really so awful?”

“Ravishing seems unlikely in a broom closet where you won’t even be able to stand up straight,” Granger crosses her arms and Draco frowns at the amount of space between them.

“On the contrary. It’s intimate. Heady. Hot.”

She huffs and rights her shirt, tucking it back into her skirt.

“Suddenly, I no longer want to be ravished.”

Before she can turn away, he pulls her against him.

“Does it help if I tell you I’ve had the list for four years?” he asks, peppering her jaw with light kisses.

“Four years? You were hardly enlightened four months ago, let alone four years ago.”

She doesn’t believe him. And why would she? Draco had always made his derision quite clear to her.

“You’d stand in the Potions store, hands over your head looking for some ingredient and I’d step in behind you, imagining my hands on your hips.”

“And then you would insult me.”

“Only to avoid pinning you to the shelves and kissing you,” he whispers.

She narrows her eyes at him, measuring his words for truth.

“Oh fine,” she puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back into the cupboard, kissing him.

He hits his head on the door frame, but he doesn’t care. 

Picking her up, he revels in the feel of her legs around him.

He presses forward until the door can shut behind them and her back is up against the stone wall.

“More,” she says, gripping tightly to his shirt.

He bends so one of his knees is practically against the wall and pulls the door shut, all the while tracing his tongue along her lips.

“Now, Draco,” she demands and he lets out a low moan.

He sets her down so he can unbutton her blouse, letting his thumbs tease at her hard nipples.

She shrugs off her blouse entirely and goes for his belt, her fingers impressively adept at undoing it. 

Wasting no time, he slips his hands under her skirt, trying to pull her panties down.

But he can’t bend over, let alone spread her legs wide enough.

So he finds his wand in his robes and casts a wordless Evanesco, vanishing her panties with his lips still pressed to hers.

She pulls back slightly and he knows she felt it.

“Did you just perform a nonverbal vanishing charm?”

“Yes,” he says, cupping her ass cheeks and pulling her up once more, her core so close to his cock he has to picture his childhood nanny with her cane.

She lets out a needy gasp and pulls him down to her, slipping her tongue inside his mouth and pressing her breasts against his shirt. 

“That’s maybe the sexiest thing you’ve ever done, Draco.” Hermione whines the words, bracing her arms on the nearby walls.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Now fuck me, Draco. Hard.”

Draco adjusts himself once more making sure he’s got a secure hold on her body before lining himself up and sinking into her.

She leans her head against the wall and he takes it as an invitation, biting at her skin as he pumps in and out of her.

Granger moves in sync with him, her wet pussy clenching around his cock.

Maybe a storage cupboard isn’t the best place to have mind-blowing sex, but Granger is certainly aiming for an Outstanding.

They are tangled together, moving as one and he can feel her desperate attempts to get even closer. 

She moves her hands from the wall to behind his neck, pressing her forehead to his as he moves faster.

“Just like that, God,” she shrieks and he does as she says, maintaining the same pace and pressure until she grips so tight he worries he’ll need to brace himself against the wall.

“Draco, please. I can’t-,” she gasps and he knows she can’t cum this way.

He slows his pace only a fraction as he tries to think of a way to slip a hand between them, but he can’t.

Then, in a stroke of genius, he remembers a variation of the stinging jinx Theo had told him about.

In another brilliant display of nonverbal magic, he imagines a pleasurable sensation running through her pussy, focusing on her clit.

When she lets out an ear-piercing shriek, he knows it’s worked and he’ll have to thank his friend.

“Oh!” She clenches a hand in his hair and he lets out his own guttural sound of ecstasy, pistoning into her as she cums around his cock.

“Thank you, thank you,” she repeats over and over again as he cums inside her.

“Anything, Granger,” he repeats, his softening cock still inside her.

They are both sweaty and breathing heavy, but if he feels as electric as he does, it was worth the discomfort.

“That was,” she sighs, happily.

“Harder than I thought it would be,” he admits.

When she laughs, for the first time since finding out about her parents, he laughs too.

Maybe sex isn’t the right way to cope with such a monumental loss, but if it lets her forget, even briefly; then it is exactly what Draco will do.

“If we came all the way down here, why didn’t we do this in the Potion’s store?” She asks as he slips out of her and she finds her feet.

He tucks himself away and buttons his pants as she feels around for her shirt, which has definitely found its way to the floor.

He leans down in the dark cupboard, her curls tickling his face.

“And risk knocking over precious and rare ingredients? I think sometimes you forget I am as big a swot as you are, Miss. Granger.”

Her laugh is muffled by his own lips kissing her once more, relishing in the swollen feel of her skin.