Make a List
Hermione woke slightly cold, and effectively alone. She huffed as she turned to face the opposite side of the empty bed. After Theo had announced that his soup was ready, and the mood effectively ruined, Draco had headed downstairs for dinner. Hermione promised she’d be down but instead had fallen asleep under her covers. It appeared that the boys had decided it would be better if they had left her alone for the rest of the night.
The events of yesterday came rushing at her and she squeezed her eyes shut. How could she possibly continue on like this? A bloody kidnapping attempt? Harry would’ve absolutely set up a protection detail for her by now—how pathetic was it that none of the Aurors had gotten to her first. Not that she had needed it.
Hermione bit her lip slightly horrified, remembering how Draco had found her after she had let go of her magic. Hopefully, he didn’t think she was sadistic. Merlin, and then she had taken him to bed. Hermione groaned, clutching her pillow. She refused to step foot out of her room today; with a wave of her hand, she silently cast wards around her door. Hopefully, the residents of the manor would catch a hint.
Hermione clamored out of bed and pulled out a quill and parchment. A to-do list would set her in the right direction.
#1 – Figure out how to wrap up this potions thing, fast.
#2 – Draco.
- Figure out what his problem with Astoria is.
- Figure out whatever is going on between us is… maybe Theo knows.
#3 – Finish Potions Mastery … quicken pace x1.5 … add an extra potion to try per week.
#4 – Plan the first gala where I announce I’m running… and announce who’s apart of my team—any Death Eater threats will be dealt with ASAP.
#5—Actually, maybe figure out what my key points are for when I run first.
#6—Figure out the Dark magic thing.
Hermione paused, feeling overwhelmed. There was way too much to do. Her room walls around her, complete with the dark furniture and heavy curtains felt as if they were closing in on her. Hermione felt herself attempting to take deeper breaths as she tried to think of anything else that needed to be added to the list. Organizing her thoughts worked so well in her room at the Leaky. She’d been in Beccles for too long. Merlin, she cursed. Why didn’t she have any sort of roots placed down anywhere?
There was a knock at the door. “’Mione?” It was Harry. “I still need to take your statement from yesterday and set up your detail. It’s past noon, are you alright in there?” His voice was muffled from the silencing charms
Hermione groaned into her pillow and removed the silencing spell around her room. “I’ll be down in fifteen, Harry!” She yelled. Harry’s footsteps faded down the hallway.
Was this to be her life—plan legislature, live at the Leaky forever, attend social events?
She rubbed her forehead. She wanted to be Minister to be able to help change the wizarding community for the better. She was neck deep in the Auror department, in the research department. If anyone could tie together the various departments in the Ministry, it was her. She understood the roles each individual had—how vital the Ministry workers were.
The only problem was that she’d have to play the social part as well—though Hermione was sure there was some loophole that would allow her to miss as many engagements as was socially acceptable. She gritted her teeth. She could do this.
Find the artifact smuggling bastards and apprehend them, send in the election papers, and plan the first campaign event. If the event goes well—go public. Easy, peasy.
The only real challenges Hermione would have to face would come later down the road—what if the public found out about what happened during the war? Hermione let out an amused huff. She’d have to go on the run regardless. She was getting better at balancing her magic—with Draco’s help, she’d have it mastered by the time the first campaign event ran.
She’d need to see who would oppose her running, or as Theo liked to call it, The Enemy List.
Feeling better, Hermione stretched her arms out, now happy that she had compiled all of the small little delicate situations around her into a list that could be tackled with utmost efficiency.
The latest issue, however, was the raging uncomfortableness that had settled into her body after yesterday’s events. She didn’t need the protection detail that Harry wanted to put forward, but she supposed she’d have to speak with Draco and see if he wanted one. Hermione almost laughed out loud—as if he would ever. She suspected that Draco had dabbled in his fair share of Dark Magic; the stray pureblood supremacist would never see it coming from him.
Her thoughts wandered to last night—they had kissed. The way he had glided up and down her body with ease, pulling up reactions from Hermione she hadn’t exhibited in quite some time. Her nose crinkled; it wasn’t as if Ron knew what to do in the years following graduation—Hermione had guided him the best she could but incompatible was the best word to describe what had transpired between the two of them.
She sighed—Ron had three children now. Hermione’s hand unconsciously drifted down to her lower abdomen. She wondered what it would be like, to have a home and a family that she could call hers. With all of the items on her to-do list, she wondered if there would ever be time for that. If the family would ever come. She refused to think of the little sparks that she and Draco had occasionally in their close quarters as material for future potential. She wondered if he would even want her children—if he’d really go back to Astoria once the mission was over. Hermione flinched, thinking back to her kidnapper’s words. Whatever she and Draco had going on—there was no way he wanted anything more, anything serious. He was too smart to topple whatever idiotic hierarchy that the Sacred Twenty-Eight had going on about marriage, and she was sure that once they got back into London, they’d both be swept off their feet and into separate directions.
Hermione decided against changing out of her pajamas and instead pulled a robe over herself. She made her way downstairs with a heavy heart.
***
Harry had said that Hermione would be down in fifteen minutes. Draco attempted to stop his legs from pacing and instead rooted himself to the ground beside the kitchen counter, continuously throwing warming charms up around the cup of coffee he had made for Granger.
After Draco had left her room last night, his trousers painfully tight, he had gone down to the kitchens and focused on Theo’s soup instead. After deciding he was an idiot for leaving in the first place, Draco had made his way up to her room once more only to find that she was completely asleep.
Hearing her small footsteps approaching the kitchen made his heart leap into his throat. Would they have to discuss yesterday? Hopefully, she’d want more, Draco pondered. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself if she had decided not.
“Coffee, Hermione?” He asked her once she stepped into the kitchen. There was a blue robe covering her entirety except for her hair which seemed to be particularly frazzled today. The bags under her eyes were slightly more prominent and she walked with a particular weariness.
“Yes, thank you.” She said walking forward to take the coffee cup from him. Draco felt himself sweat a little as he watched her take a sip. Her expression didn’t change, but instead her eyes flitted to Potter. “You wanted a briefing?” She reached into her robe pocket and produced a few pages of parchment. “You can submit these—my account of yesterday. As for the detail—” She put up a hand as Harry began to protest. “I don’t need one. I can handle myself fine, and unless Voldemort himself rises and decides to come after me, I’ll be fine.”
Harry reluctantly took the papers from her. “There’s a lot more insane people back in London, Hermione.”
“The Manor is safe, you know.” Draco wasn’t sure why his mouth was moving. “Back home. You could come and live with Theo and I. We’d gladly accept you. Once we publicly announce you’re running for Minister, I’m sure chaos will ensure. Do you live somewhere safe now?” He tried to keep his voice neutral.
Hermione laughed. “Well…”
“You’re taking years off my life, ‘Mione." Harry shook his head. "She lives at the Leaky; bought a room there permanently.” Harry said turning to Draco.
Hermione grinned at Draco’s stricken face. “I like the noise sometimes. Plus, my room is in one of the scarier corners—no one bothers to look for the Golden Girl there.”
“Who lives at the Leaky?” Theo asked walking in, dressed in a pair of work trousers and a collared grey shirt.
“Granger.” Draco responded, still slightly shocked. The place was loud, boisterous, the food suspicious if anything. Drunks tried to get into the wrong rooms all the time. Draco avoided the Leaky as if his life depended on it.
Theo paused and looked at Granger. “Are you insane? How do you get any work done?”
Hermione shrugged. “No one bothers me.”
Theo gave her an incredulous look. “Right.”
“She means to say that she has an incredible confundus charm in place, along with layered silencing charms and the such.” Harry said.
“I see.” Said Theo. “And how, Granger, are you feeling from yesterday? The first time something like that’s happened and you haven’t had a mediwitch fix you up.”
“I’m fine, Theo.” Hermione said with a knowing glance in Theo’s direction. Theo’s lips thinned but he nodded regardless. “To make myself feel better, I’ve made a to-do list.”
“Is that so?” Draco asked.
She nodded and conjured another parchment—the air crackled with the remnants of the magic she used yesterday and Draco ignored the urge to shiver. “First, I’d like to capture these Dark object smugglers once and for all—Harry I’m going to need your expertise for this plan. I’ll meet you in a few minutes in my room? I don’t particularly feel like leaving the manor today.” She took a breath. “Draco and I will also begin testing our stability potions. In the meantime, I’d like to run by my running points for Minister with the two of you—once we have that down we can begin creating our invitee list. Afterward, I’ll plan the actual gala. And if that goes well… we can go public.”
Theo seemed to be plotting this list in his head and Draco nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like a plan Granger. I'll also draw up that enemy list and get a draft running for invitees.”
Harry grinned. “It was only a matter of time. Draco, can I use your floo? I just have to tell Ginny I’ll be late for lunch. ‘Mione I’ll meet you in a few.”
“Down the hall that way and into the parlor room Potter.” Draco said pointing to the room that he, Hermione, and Theo had spent countless hours lounging in. “Granger, if you’re headed to your room, I’ll walk you up.” He said and reached over to pluck the empty teacup out of her hands that she was nursing.
Hermione nodded and rapidly headed towards the stairs. Draco threw Theo a glare that read don’t say ANYTHING before heading up the stairs behind her.
“Hermione.” He said quietly, matching her brisk pace down the hallway.
Her step faltered slightly. “Yes?”
“Do you want to talk about yesterday?” They hadn’t even reached her room yet.
“I…I’m realizing perhaps it… I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen.”
Draco took a step back. “What?”
“You have a fiancé, and I—”
“Astoria and I are finished, Granger.” He said, his eyes searching hers. “We’re completely over.”
“You said it was temporary—that once this was over, she’d understand what was happening—that what we had wasn’t real.”
“No—no.” He stepped forwards and grabbed her hands, and her brown eyes snapped up to meet his grey ones. “I owled her and my parents last week. I voided the whole engagement—it was a scam, anyways, marrying her.”
“You did what?”
“There is no one else in the picture for me, Granger.”
“The Sacred Twenty-Eight—”
“Fuck the Twenty-Eight, Granger. I want you.”
“I’d be ruining an entire bloodline.” She gasped as he backed her into the wall.
“You’d be enhancing my bloodline with that ginormous brain of yours, Granger. What could you possibly ruin?”
“Draco—”
“Hermione.” Draco watched her with half-lidded eyes as she breathed deeply below him, his hands now holding her by the elbows. “If you’ll have me, all I want is you.”
Hermione seemed to be mouthing the words Draco was telling her, her large eyes staring up at him. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Be mine, then, Malfoy.”
He smirked as she rose on her toes to press her lips to his, and Draco moved a hand to the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. “I’m all yours, Miss Granger.”