Chapter 1

Friday night at the Banshees Kiss has been completely Theo’s idea. Something about ‘dipping his wand’. But for Draco, it had been revelatory. In a corner booth, there he had been. That red-headed, pot-bellied reject, Ronald Weasley, pawing some poor witch.

Theo never showed much interest in witches, but wizards, on the other hand, always drew his focus. Therefore, he left early, to Dracos' delight. That meant he could go home to his rented London townhouse and strategise.

This was the turning point for Draco. Lately, he’d been in and out of the Ministry, monitoring the flow of his donations to the program run by Hermione Granger. She was trying to implement magical awareness programs for Muggleborn children. It was great for his image to be involved, so the family solicitor had advised him. 

In school, the witch had been a thorn in his side. Too bright, too smart and the most egregious crime - friends with a boy he was ordered to be friends with. Now she was spectacular. Fastidious, diligent, and unfortunately for Draco, very beautiful. Always well dressed in robes that complemented her tumbling chocolate curls and bronze skin. She made his heart flip-flop in his chest whenever they met. 

It helped that he had been quick to express remorse over his behaviour at school and subsequent stint as a marked Death Eater. But ever the gracious and kind woman, Hermione had forgiven him. He thought they worked well together. Often, he day-dreamed about what it might have been like if he hadn’t been such a little cockroach (her words) in school. His favourite reverie involved her, the Hogwarts library late at night, and his hands under her school skirt. 

The problem was that she had been engaged to that ginger git for the past two years. But it seemed no longer the case. Blessedly, he already had a Monday meeting with her scheduled to discuss the next stage of the project, and hopefully, they could squeeze in a chance for him to finally ask her out on a date.

Monday morning, he changed his robes twice, finally landing on a charcoal grey set that complemented his eyes and set off with determination to the Ministry. He was under no humble illusions that he was unattractive; he had grown tall and refined since his release from Azkaban four years prior. He was given time served and a year's probation for his unwilling participation in everything. He was lucky, he thought, and he wasn’t going to waste it. The receptionists at the Department for Magical Cooperation finger-waved and blushed as he passed. Yeah, he had this. 

He entered her office, and there was his radiant witch sitting behind her desk, crossing off something on the parchment in front of her. She lifted her head and extended her left hand to indicate for him to sit while she finished up.

To his horror and confusion, still slid onto her ring finger was that hideous gold band with its tiny, murky diamond. What the fuck was going on?

Chapter 2

The past six months had been really strange and very tiring for Hermione. First, she had been approved for her project at work but kept running into pushback from the old fuddy-duddies on the Wizengamot over the stupid Statute of Secrecy. Then she learnt where the money was coming from. She was sure as soon as Malfoy saw her, he’d pull it, but to her surprise, he had been more than willing to continue the funding and even wanted to be involved. She was not opposed to hard work, but the number of setbacks and bureaucratic nightmares she encountered was eternally frustrating. It was her personal life that seemed to be hanging by a thread in amongst all this.

Five months ago, Harry and Ginny had split. She had rushed over to Harry’s, prepared to find a devastated man, but found him contentedly playing with Teddy in the sitting room. Harry explained, once Teddy was down for a nap, that Ginny and he had been talking for a long time about the state of their relationship. He came out to Hermione that night. Two weeks later, there was a photograph of Ginny in Quiddich Weekly kissing one of her teammates from the Holyhead Harpies. Hermione was happy for her friends as they embraced themselves and naively thought that was the end of it.

The problem was Ron’s reaction. He was disgusted by Harry and his sister. His quote was “Why can’t they be normal and just get married like they’re supposed to? I bloody used to get changed in front of him!” This spawned the most hideous row that they had ever had when Hermione had replied: “Well, I think it’s safe to say he’s not interested in you, Ronald.”

Molly Weasley had been no better about what had happened, but somehow Hermione’s support of her friends was a worse crime. Molly had gone from prodding her about finally planning the wedding to pestering her to convince Ginny and Harry to reunite. Ron, of course, agreed with his mother.

Their househunting plans went out the window after that. Not like they could actually agree on anything. Ron found fault with everything they looked at. Things between them grew even more strained, and his continued excuses were wearing on Hermione. Two months ago, she gave up waiting for him to pull his finger out and put a deposit down on a modest cottage (with an Aga cooker in the kitchen and magically expanded study for her library of books) on the Devon coast. Then she lied and told him it was a rental. 

It was this past Friday night that weighed most on her mind. She’d admittedly been late to his flat above the shop he shared with George, but she had to action something before the weekend. Ron obviously didn’t care. He’d cursed her out and stormed off to who-knows-where without even listening to her explanation. Luckily, George was about, and they had talked late into the evening (Hermione quietly hoping Ron would return). Ron’s brother had repeatedly told her that he had never thought Ron was good enough for her.

It stuck in her mind all weekend when she didn’t hear from her fiancé at all.

Monday meant a meeting with Malfoy. She was in her office editing her millionth proposal to the Wizengamot when he arrived. Destractingly handsome in what looked like new robes. The life of some, she thought, trying to divert her attention to his obnoxious wealth and off of his beautiful stormy mercury eyes. A strange look flickered on his face, maybe trouble with the project, so she placed her quill down as he sat.

“Everything alright, Mr Malfoy?” she asked in her professional voice. He hesitated before arranging his face into the pleasant smile he often had when they met.

“Quite, Granger. Where are we with the next steps?”

For the next hour, they discussed the program implementation plan, and he even inquired about her weekend. To which she obviously lied.

Chapter 3

“I am telling you, Theo, they are still bloody engaged!” Draco stormed. It was Monday afternoon, and they were in the brewing room of their joint venture. ‘Forget me Nott’ was a proposal that Theo, being the steadfast friend he was, brought to Draco upon his release from Azkaban and consequent period of depression/wallowing. An apothecary and speciality potions lab had been just the thing to pull him out of his slump. They had both gone in equal halves, but Theo was the face, with Draco behind the scenes in the lab. He much preferred it this way. He enjoyed brewing and having something to do that wasn’t being a wealthy layabout. Theo set down the jars he was organising and turned to his friend with an infuriating smirk.

“Well, obviously she’s not aware of what he’s up to, mate.”

“OBVIOUSLY! But you saw- he was- and then- right?” Draco sputtered, gesticulating wildly. Theo had been on the receiving end of these kinds of freakouts before; he was certainly the only one ever to witness them. He was the person who knew Draco best. They had been through so much together. Draco was the person he went to after he endured another “punishment” from his insane father, and in return, Theo was the only real friend he confided in during Sixth Year. 

Theo moved to the shelves and plucked up a vial of calming draught, uncorking and handing it to the distraught wizard. Draco swallowed it in one gulp and took a few deep breaths while it took effect. 

“The way I see it, mate, you have two options.” Theo began once the redness had left Draco’s cheeks, “You let the relationship run its course, bide your time, or you get involved, and she hexes the messenger.”

“Run its course?” Draco asked, aghast, “Knowing my luck, they’ll still get married, and I’ll die alone.”

Theo rolled his eyes, which made Draco want to throttle him. “So dramatic. You’re Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelor, according to Witch Weekly. Besides, I have it on good authority that the chances of them walking down the aisle are slim at best,” Theo replied cheerfully. Draco’s heart leapt, but then he paused.

“On whose authority exactly?” He asked with narrowed eyes. Theo reached over and tapped the tip of his nose.

“Never you mind, Drakey-boy.” Theo then winked and turned back to his work. “But if it’s anything to go by, I think she will be a free witch before the end of the year.”
“Theo! It’s only fucking May!” Draco was nearing his limit. Sitting in her office with her earlier, he had barely held his tongue about it. Lying to her seemed unthinkable. “She has to be told!”
“Yeah, but not by you, Dray.” Theo turned again and grabbed him by his arms, suddenly very serious. “Promise me you won’t tell her. It will only spoil all the work you’ve done to earn her friendship.” Draco sighed long and hard.

“Fine. But I’m going to get proof and send it anonymously to her,” he grumbled. Theo grinned widely and slapped his arms.

“There you go, mate. Good plan. Keep out of the line of fire. We all saw the mess she made of Dolohov.” 

They both shuddered. 

—

Theo’s previous Friday night

Theo lay on his back in the four-poster bed with Harry Potter’s messy black hair scratching his chest. It was just after midnight. They were both flushed and catching their breath after enthusiastically ravishing each other. It was becoming a regular thing. Theo didn’t do regular, but he was making an exception for this wizard. Perhaps it was his eyes, but more likely the fact that he was a savant at sucking cock. 

“You still hang around with Weasley?” Theo asked casually as he carded his fingers through the black mop. Harry tilted his head, resting his chin on Theo’s pec to look at him. Those fucking eyes.

“Er… not really. Ron doesn’t like… well… thinks I should have stayed with his sister. Why?”

“Is he still going out with Granger?”
“Er, yeah. They’re engaged. Again, why?” Harry’s furrowed brow was so cute that Theo felt an unwanted burst of affection. “Even if he wasn’t, he’s very opposed to… you know, this.” 

Theo almost laughed. “I don’t want to shag him, you daft git.” When Theo said this, Harry’s brow smoothed out. “I just saw him earlier, with a witch that wasn’t Granger, that’s all. I was curious.” 

Harry sat bolt upright, his glorious chest on display. “What? Again?”
“He’s done this before?” Theo’s curiosity was piqued.
“Yeah… yeah, but before they got engaged. I thought he was finally- fuck. What do I do?” Harry’s green eyes were wide, and he pulled on his hair, looking distressed, so Theo guided him back to lie on his chest, resuming stroking his head. 

“You going to tell her?”

Harry sighed, “I tried telling her last time, but she wouldn’t have it. She was so excited that they were getting engaged. I couldn’t spoil it for her. I thought he’d finally pulled it together.” Harry looked at Theo again. “But they’ve been rocky for a while. He doesn’t like her working so much. She spends most weekends with Teddy and me, or Gin when she’s in town.”

Theo cupped his cheek. “You’re a good friend. You’ll figure it out.” He pulled Harry in for a kiss that brought about round two. Theo wanted to make the most of this time, because in the morning he had to be gone for the arrival of Harry’s godson.

Chapter 4

When Draco had been released from Azkaban, he had been terribly afraid to be seen in public. He’d studied up on glamours to disguise himself. It helped until he was stable enough to make his return to the Wizarding society. It certainly was going to come in handy for his plan. The other thing that came in handy was the compulsory Muggle Studies program he had to take. He had learnt how Muggle Society functioned and how to interact with them. He’d obviously been top of the class. He even organised, at Gringotts, a small plastic card that he was assured would work in Muggle shops. Today, he was going to try it out.

Draco knew Oxford Street from the excursions he’d had to take. He had been, quite frankly, overstimulated by the sheer number of people around. That Thursday morning, however, he was off to a shop he remembered seeing. Black frontage, white lettering and glass windows with sleek display stands holding camera equipment. He recalled a boy at school who had an old-fashioned flash bulb monstrosity always being shoved in people's faces and felt a deep pang of long-held guilt when he remembered that boy had died. Shaking away the thought, he entered the store.

He had made sure to wear Muggle attire. He wasn’t fond of the stiff, thick cotton trousers he’d picked up, but he did like the way they made his bum look. He was satisfied he blended in, and the looks he got were purely because he was so handsome in them and the collarless black shirt he was wearing. Luckily for him, Muggle stores had attentive staff. He was pleased to be greeted and asked what he was looking for.

“Yes, I need something small and easy to use. Also, a demonstration, if you don’t mind terribly. Cost is not an obstacle.” He informed the lanky man, who obliged with enthusiasm. He was walked through how to use the tiny device that fit snugly in his palm and listened as he was told how to retrieve the photographs using the cords and something he’d only read about: a computer. A problem for later. He could send Hermione the small device; she would know how to use it and look at the photographs. 

He was elated when he swiped the card in the thing at the till when it worked, and he was on his way.

He had a spring in his step as he entered Diagon to go to Forget me Nott to inform Theo of his grand success in the Muggle world. He almost strode right past his witch, who was exiting the cafe near the pub. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and he gave a polite nod in greeting, praising himself for vanishing his shopping bag home.

“Malfoy, what on earth are you wearing?” Herimone’s eyes moved down his body, giving him a shiver. He puffed up proudly.

“I had business in the Muggle world. I can blend now, you know, Granger.” He said proudly.

“I see that.” She said with a small smile. It was unfair how pretty she was. “I’d best be off, lots to do. Don’t forget our meeting on Monday.”

“I never do. Good day.” With a wink for good measure, he strode away and hoped she got a nice view of his rear before he rounded a corner. Success and an opportunity to impress his witch. Maybe fortune was favouring him, and this would all pan out as planned. Proof, destruction of a toxic relationship, Draco swooping in to save the day and woo her fully.

He was grinning ear to ear when he entered the brewing room to find Theo. Theo glanced up at him and burst into violent laughter. This irritated Draco to no end.

“Mate,” Theo gasped for air, “What the fuck is on your shirt?” Draco looked down, unsure of what he was on about.

“It’s a wolf, Theodore. They are a dignified and powerful animal.” To Draco’s dismay, this only made Theo laugh harder.

Chapter 5

Hermione was having a bizarre week. Not only had she witnessed Draco Malfoy in a rather tacky market stall t-shirt and perfectly tailored jeans, but Ron had reappeared in her life with vigour. It was flowers and chocolate on Monday evening: a heartfelt apology and a plea for them to start planning the wedding.

She felt like she had whiplash from being pulled in too many different directions. Maybe the problems between her and Ron were because they had been dragging their feet about the nuptials. She desperately wished it were one of Ginny’s home games this week so she could discuss it with her. She and Harry never talked about Ron anymore. Much like when he’d left them in the tent when they were on the run, they awkwardly pretended nothing was wrong. It must be awful, she thought, after so many years of friendship, that Ron had abandoned him for such a stupid reason. 

By Friday afternoon, she had resolved to tell Ron at dinner that evening that unless he could change his tune about Harry and Ginny, there was no chance they could make a life together work. She made sure not to be late to meet him to avoid another fight. They walked down the Alley together, and she was caught off guard when he held the door of the restaurant open for her to enter. Once they were seated and had ordered their food, she took a calming breath and began her rehearsed speech.

“Ron, I really appreciate how things have been with us this week, but there’s something I need you to do before we start planning the wedding.” Ron nodded, looking earnest, so Hermione continued, “I need you to make up with Harry. He’s still really important to me, and I cannot live a life split between the two of you.”

Ron’s face turned red, the muscle in his jaw working. “Mione, I just,” He clamped his teeth together and forced out, “I can try. I need some time, though. Alone. After dinner.”

Hermione quickly agreed. It was progress. The rest of dinner passed with him mostly silent while she talked about her project. She was careful to leave out any mention of Malfoy, as that had not gone over well when Ron had learned of his involvement. Better to avoid the argument.

They parted in front of the shop, and Hermione decided to pop in on Harry. He was usually free on Friday evenings since he only had Teddy on Saturday and Sunday. She used the floo in the Leaky Cauldron to go to the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. The kitchen was silent, but she heard voices in the sitting room down the hall. It was amazing how transformed the house was from its former morbid glory. Bill had even managed to remove that awful portrait of Walburga from the hallway, and now the wall was covered in mismatched frames full of photos she always paused to look at, her heart in her throat. Harry’s parents, the trio on the sofa at the Burrow, Hagrid in his pumpkin patch, Sirius and Remus as teenagers, with Sirius dipping the skinny wizard into a kiss, Fred and George grinning outside their shop, Ginny on her broom, Teddy waving at the camera. She made her way into the sitting room and was definitely not prepared for what she would witness.

Namely, her best friend on all fours on the rug while a tall, muscular man pounded into him from behind. The slap of skin was deafening, and Harry turned his head, spotting her and fell forward.

“Fuck! Hermione!” he choked.

Hermione shrieked, “I’ll wait in the kitchen!” and quickly dashed back the way she came. An agonising few minutes later, the two men joined her, dressed hastily, in the kitchen, where she was fussing with the teapot for something to do. Harry looked mortified, but the handsome, dark-haired, familiar-looking wizard gave Hermione a roguish smile.

“Hermione Granger. Theodore Nott. But please call me Theo.” He held out his hand to her, and when she just looked at it, he added, “Scorgified.” She shook it wordlessly with a glance at Harry, who looked as though he wanted to melt into the floor. “Big fan of your work.” Nott continued. “It’s so nice to meet properly. I know we didn’t chat much in school. I blame my father for that.” She realised then that Nott was wearing an exact copy of the shirt she’d seen Malfoy wearing yesterday.

“You’re still friends with Malfoy?” She finally managed to say.

“Of course. Stuck with the prick. We own Forget me Nott together down the Alley. We have recently started supplying Wolfsbane to St Mungos at a discounted rate, Draco’s idea, of course. I hear all about your work from him as well.” He spoke in a sort of pleasant, aristocratic way that mirrored Malfoy. She hadn’t known that. It was admirable.

“How lovely.” She replied, Harry still silent beside Nott. “It’s been good working with him.” She was at a loss in this interaction.
“Right, well,” Theo turned to Harry and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll be off, see you later, Potter. Ms Granger.” He nodded and stepped into the floo, disappearing in a flash of green.

It was that night she learnt all about how Harry had met Theo again in a Muggle gay bar four months ago, and they had hit it off. Harry was sure it wouldn’t go anywhere, but he desperately hoped it would. Ron never came up once as they drank hot toddies in the kitchen and laughed about the wolf t-shirt that both Malfoy and Nott seemed to own. She also learned not to pop around unannounced again on a Friday night.

What a weird week.

Chapter 6

Draco felt sick. A deep, awful nauseated feeling at seeing someone else touch Hermione when he watched Weaselbee sloppily kiss his witch on the cheek outside that joke shop. Then he watched them walk arm in arm to a restaurant up the Alley. His disguise, with dark hair and a crooked nose, allowed him to take up a table and observe them eat. Hermione looked beautiful. She was wearing her Ministry robes over a blue blouse and black pencil skirt, her shapely legs on display as she crossed them over. He noticed she did most of the talking. That stupid twat didn’t even look like he wanted to be with her, checking his watch whenever she glanced down at her plate. 

Draco knew he would hang on her every word, ask her questions, and maybe finally figure out how that brilliant brain worked. The Weasel didn’t deserve her, he was sure of that. For some reason, the couple went their separate ways outside of the joke shop. Hermione went into the Leaky and the Weasel pretended to go into the flat, but as soon as she was out of sight, he hurried down the Alley with Draco on his tail.

He wondered why this dumb idiot would rather spend Friday night skulking around seedy clubs and bars than between Hermione’s soft thighs… Draco shook his head before he got a rather unfortunate boner. He followed the cretin to a club known as The Velvet Veela. Draco’s heart leapt. This was his chance to get proof. Armed with his small camera, he followed the other wizard inside.

The club was dim and smoky. Scantily clad women were serving drinks and draped over various wizards. He spotted a flash of red hair going into the back. He followed, heart pounding.

Unfortunately, it was just a poker game. He recognised a couple of faces from Hogwarts: Finnegan, Smith, Pucey and what the actual fuck?

Blaise Zabini.

Relieved to be disguised, Draco found a spot at the bar with a line of sight to Weasley and ordered a firewhiskey to nurse. It seemed Weasley wasn’t very good at poker. Nor did he accept the advances of any of the waitresses. Draco was fuming. Finally, after hours, Weasley stumbled towards the exit. Blaise stopped him and said something to him that made Weasley turn the colour of his hair, before he stumbled out the door. Draco made a mental note to ask Theo about Blaise and then followed out the door. 

Weasley was going in the opposite direction to Weasley Wizarding Wheezes and into a stretch of the alley dotted with apartment complexes. He entered one. Draco snapped a few photos of this and then decided to apparate home. Theo probably wouldn’t be back for a few hours yet. Draco never asked where he went on Friday nights; quite frankly, he didn’t want to know.

He was surprised to find his friend on the sofa with a lowball glass dangling from his fingertips. 

“Ah, Dray-cooh, my dear friend,” Theo slurred, looking dishevelled, never a good sign, “Like the shirt?” It was, in fact, Draco’s shirt. 

“Theo, what’s wrong?” Draco asked calmly as he poured himself a drink and sat across from Theo.

“I suppose I should tell you before Granger lets it slip.” Theo crooned.
“You saw Hermione tonight?”

“She walked in on us. I was at Harry’s.” Theo’s head tipped back, and he laughed, “Oh, Harry, Harry, Harry”

“Harry as in… HARRY POTTER?! The fucking chosen git?!” Draco was thunderstruck by this revelation. “Are you telling me that you’re fucking Harry bloody Potter every Friday?”  Theo lurched forward, nodding and holding up four fingers.

“Only for the past four months. That’s a long time for me, Dray. But I can’t give him up!” Theo rubbed his face and groaned. Draco was perplexed. This wasn’t like Theo at all. He was meant to be the surest of the two of them. Draco sighed.

“I mean, if you like him,” Draco struggled not to gag, “then you should see him for as like as you like.”

“Really?” Theo’s head popped up, and he looked hopeful in a childlike way.

“Yeah. Yes.” Draco confirmed awkwardly, “Of course you should.”

“This is spectacular!” Theo launched at Draco and smothered him in a hug, almost spilling his drink, “The four of us can double date once we get rid of the Weasley problem.” Theo nuzzled his face into Draco’s neck, and Draco patted his back.

“Speaking of, do you still talk to Blaise?”
Theo lifted his head, “Only when he invites me to the poker games he runs. I did one, but it’s only ever witches serving the drinks, not for me.” He played with Draco’s hair “You have some brown streaks still.” Draco smacked his hand away and wriggled out from under Theo to stand and brush himself off. Theo slumped back, pouting.

“He runs the games? Weasley was at one tonight.” Theo snorted at this. “What?”

“Well then, he probably owes Blaise a fuckton of Galleons.”

Theo explained, albeit drunkenly, that Blaise provided lines of credit for his games. Even as Draco helped Theo into bed and tucked him in, listening to his friend babble about (vomit) Harry Potter’s cock, his mind whirred, trying to figure out how to best use the information about the poker games to his advantage. 

Leaving a snoring Theo, he readied himself for bed in his own room and slipped into his silk sheets. He needed to make sure Hermione was protected. Thank fucking Merlin, they weren’t married yet or else that debt would be hers too. The photographs of Weasley he’d gotten tonight weren’t enough. Hopefully, he could pick up his trail again tomorrow.

Chapter 7

Hermione had a slight headache on Saturday morning. She apparated to Dartmoor for a nice long walk in the fresh Spring air. She was even lucky enough to spot some Bowtruckles in the trees. As she wandered through the craggy landscape, she saw an owl approaching. Strange. It swooped down and dropped a letter into her hands before soaring away.

She turned it over and saw the crest for Gringotts Bank. Even more strange. She ducked behind a rock and apparated home.

Inside her cottage, she ripped open the letter, and her stomach dropped.

Dear Ms Granger,

Due to the request to access your vault (no. 7168) this morning from an unsigned person or persons. We at Gringotts request that you come to see us at your earliest convenience. 

The process of adding an accessor is simple. We only need to inspect your wand and obtain your signature.

Thank you for banking with Gringotts Bank,

Regards, Filgrat 

Senior Vault Manager

Fortius Quo Fidelius 

She threw on a robe over her activewear and stepped into the floo. She hurried from the Leaky to the bank. A few of the deak Goblins eyed her. She always hated coming in here. After the whole ‘breaking in, freeing a dragon and smashing a hole in the roof’ thing, it had been an intense negotiation just to obtain her own vault. But a letter from Minister Shaklebolt had persuaded the Goblins. She held her head up and strode to the service desk. 

The Goblin, Filgrat, ushered her into his small office, and they sat at his desk.

“Ms Granger, thank you for coming in so promptly.” The Goblin took a quill in his long fingers and began to fill out an access form.

“There must be some confusion, Sir. I don’t want to authorise anyone else’s access to my vault.” Hermione tried not to sound panicked while the Goblin got a nasty grin.

“Ah, I see. Well, this morning, a Mr Ronald Weasley tried to gain access to your vault. He insisted you are to be married. Under your wizard's law, your assets would be merged when you join. Some couples do it pre-emptively”

Hermione was startled. She didn’t know this, and she certainly didn’t want to give Ron access to her money. What did he even need it for, and why hadn’t he asked her first? Her mind was racing when she asked, “Is there any way that I don’t have to do that?”
Filgrat looked at her assessingly. “Only in the case of very strong magical bonds over the assets. Usually familial. The old houses do it. Black, Malfoy, etcetera.” The Goblin folded his sinuous hands on the desk. “You’d need a good solicitor to set it up for you, but as long as we get the proper paperwork, we can keep your vault,” he checked the parchment in front of him, “along with your deed, solely in your name.”

Hermione thanked the Goblin profusely and watched as he ripped up the form. A small relief. She exited the bank into the sunny alley and marched straight to the joke shop.

George was the only one behind the counter, and Lee Jordan bounced around between the shelves tidying and restocking.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Herms?” Sang George as he rounded the counter to pull her into a hug.

“Is Ron here?” She gritted out, stiff in George’s arms. He pulled back, and his face dropped its usual grin.

“He’s not with you? He didn’t stay here last night.” At Hermione's scowl, George went on, “Maybe he’s with dear Haz?”

“No. I was with Harry last night, and he’s taking Teddy to watch the Wimbourne Wasps play today.” Hermione said in a low voice. George signalled to Lee and then dragged her into the back. The office was small and piled high with papers, random sketches, and testing products. George looked grave.

“I haven’t wanted to mention this, Herm. Because I love you and I don’t want to hurt you. But,” He hesitated.

“Just say it,” Hermione said tiredly.

“How often does Ron stay with you?”
“Rarely. The last time was in February for Valentine's Day.”

“Ah. Well. He’s only in his room upstairs here about two nights out of the week.” George said slowly, “I just assumed he was with you, but he’s been acting mighty strange lately.”

Hermione laid out everything that had just happened at the bank while George listened thoughtfully.

“Well, I hope you’re about to tell me that you aren’t going to marry him, Herm,” George said gently. “Because at this point, if you’re so desperate to be a Weasley, I’d suggest Percy over Ron.” He winked, obviously trying to defuse the tension. Hermione felt on the verge of tears. Noticing, George hugged her again, crushing her a little. “Or Charlie is still available, if you can get him away from those dragons.” Hermione let out a wet laugh and hugged George back. 

“Do you think he’s being unfaithful?” She asked in a small voice.

George rubbed her back, “He’s a damn fool if he is Hermione.” His deep voice rumbled through her, “He’s a right sight lucky to have you if you ask me.”

After a few tears and a lot more hugging, she asked George for directions to a shop called Forget me Nott and went on her way. She had a pureblood to find and ask an important question. 

Chapter 8

Theodore was in an annoyingly good mood. He’d been whistling all morning, and Draco wanted to punch him. They were in the process of brewing the next batch order for St. Mungo's. It was all very technical and a good distraction for him. The front door tinkled as someone came into the shop front.

“I’ll get it!” Theo chirped cheerfully and skipped out to the front desk. Draco scowled at his cauldron until he heard what Theo said next. “Hermione! What brings you here?” Draco almost knocked over his work. He strained to hear her response but only caught the soft tone of her voice. “Oh, he’s in the back, come on through, my dear!” Fucking Theodore. Draco looked down at himself. He was filthy and covered in leech juice. He fumbled for his wand to hastily tidy himself with a few well-cast charms. Theo burst back in, grinning like a fiend. Hermione shuffled in nervously behind him, looking around curiously. Draco moved to greet her.

“Granger. Is everything alright?” Draco asked gently, but his insides were going wild. She looked like she had been crying and was wearing some sort of skin-tight material under her robe. The slash of skin at her midriff was especially distracting, so Draco, being the gentleman he was, focused on her red-rimmed eyes.

“I was hoping to have a word,” She glanced quickly to Theo, “privately. I hate to ask, but it’s important.”

Draco didn’t even have to glare at Theo as he donned his robe and announced he was going to get lunch before striding out through the front. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t going to murder him, today at least. Draco motioned for Hermione to sit on a chair by the workstation and conjured another chair for himself.
“What’s so important?” Draco asked like he wasn’t dying to know.

“This is terribly awkward, but I was wondering if you might tell me who your family solicitor is.” Hermione fumbled her words, which was very unlike her. Dread curdled in Draco’s stomach. Something had happened, and she needed legal help. This was his chance.

“Mr Burton. His family has managed the Malfoy estate matters for generations. I can contact him for an appointment for you, but I’ll need to give him some information about what it’s regarding.” When she didn’t respond right away, instead looking at her twisting hands in her lap, he added, “I promise it will stay between us.”

Hermione let out a shuddering breath that made Draco’s heart clench. “I need to secure my assets at the bank so no one else will ever be able to access them without my express permission. The Goblin said that the old families do it to prevent vault merging when someone marries. Is that right?”

Draco nodded. Maybe she knew about Weasel’s debt already. This was such a good sign. “Yes, that’s right. I take it your fiancé has come clean?” Hermione’s head shot up, and her face made Draco instantly regret opening his big, stupid mouth.

“Pardon me? If you know something, Malfoy, you'd better tell me now.” Fuck, this witch was scary; her power crackled in the air. It honestly shot straight to Draco’s dick.

“Uh, well, just that I’ve seen Weasley playing in some poker games, that’s all. High buy-in and  stakes and all that.” Merlin, he was a moron.

“Where?” Hermione asked quickly, “Who runs them? Am I in danger?”

Draco’s hand shot out, unbidden, to touch hers, “No. I can make sure you’re not. Blaise is the one running them. Theo can talk to him.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Where and when did you see this?” She hadn’t moved her hand, another good sign.

“I was at The Velvet Veela last night and saw him in the back playing. I mentioned it to Theo when I got home, and he told me about Blaise lending people the buy-in.”

Hermione chewed on her lip, looking as if she might cry again. It made Draco’s panic spike. “You must think I’m terribly foolish.” She said so brokenly that it cracked his heart.

“You? Hermione Granger? Brightest witch of her age? Future hero to Muggleborns everywhere and youngest Minister for Magic in history? Doubtful.” Draco was pleased to see the tears recede and her face flush slightly. 

“I’m barely a desk monkey at the moment.” Draco stopped her with a squeeze to her tiny hand.

“I won’t hear it.” He said emphatically. “I don’t think you’re a fool; I think your kindness has been taken advantage of, and I am at your disposal. Whatever you need, you shall have Granger.”

He made her a cup of calming tea and sent off an owl to Burton. She mentioned needing to change her clothes after rushing to the bank earlier. Draco jumped at the opportunity to offer to accompany her, well, in case Burton got back to him, they could go there directly, of course. Definitely not so he could scope out where she lived and imagine them there together, no, no. She graciously accepted his escort. Yeah, he had this.

Chapter 9

Hermione was absolutely freaking out. She wanted to be shocked, but it was just like Ron. Never taking responsibility and always relying on her to get her out of his problems. She was thankful for Malfoy’s warm hand at the small of her back as they went up to the pub to use the floo. His steady calm was very helpful. His kind words repeated in her head. She almost laughed because if someone had told her in school that one day Draco Malfoy would be a source of comfort for her, she would have rolled her eyes and hexed them.

They stepped through the flames together into her cosy living room. She quickly tidied the books that had been spread out across the coffee table and sofa. Malfoy had wandered over to the bookshelf and was looking around. She held her breath for his snide remark, but it didn’t come. 

She had just opened her mouth to say something when Ron emerged from the kitchen. Malfoy stiffened. 

“Mione,” Ron started, and it made her bristle. She had always hated that nickname. “I’ve been looking for you all morning.” Ron finally realised that Malfoy was standing a few feet to his left. “The fuck is he doing here?” Ron’s face reddened.

It was like a bucket of ice water falling over Hermione’s head. Seeing the two wizards side by side was eye-opening. Suddenly, in perfect clarity, she could see all Ron's faults. It gave her the willies. His stomach poked out over his ill-fitting trousers and peeling belt, and his violently red hair was thinning on top. Beside him, Malfoy, though sneering in a way reminiscent of his school days, was an Adonis carved from dreams. His robes were clean and perfectly tailored, not a hair out of place. It was funny how different it was to have the Malfoy glare directed at someone on her behalf than to be on the receiving end. The starkness of the comparison hit Hermione like a bludger. She scowled at Ron.

“Well, Ronald,” She said in her most aggressive, swotty voice, “I’ve been rushing around all day to the bank, asking Malfoy to assist me in obtaining a lawyer and making sure no one but me can access my vault.” She spat the last few words with venom.

Ron sputtered, “We’re getting married, I should be able to get into it!”

“Not without asking me first!” Hermione’s voice was rising, and Malfoy’s hand was twitching like he wanted to pull out his wand.

“I wanted to surprise you and invest it in our future together, Mione!”

Hermione scoffed, “So it’s not to do with the fact you’ve been gambling? Don’t lie to me, Ronald. I’m the smart one, remember?”

“I AM PLENTY SMART!” He exploded, face as red as his hair, “YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT LIES? I know you own this place! You said it was a rental!”

“I can do what I like with my hard-earned money. And you will never see a single Knut of it.” Hermione managed to pull off her engagement ring, even though her hands were shaking violently. She stepped forward, Malfoy’s arm spasmed, and she shoved the dull gold band into Ron’s meaty hand. “Get. Out. Of. My. House.”

Ron looked both irate and blindsided by her action. He made several incoherent noises and then whipped his head between Malfoy and Hermione. “Is this because of him?” He asked incredulously.

“It’s because you’re a liar, you tried to steal from me, and I know you haven’t been sleeping at your flat. And even if it were because of Malfoy, it wouldn’t be any of your business, Ronald. We are done. That’s it. Get out.”

Both Hermione and Malfoy now had their wands in hand. Ron made the wise decision and stomped towards the floo. Before he stepped in, he looked back in disgust.

“Death Eater Whore. No one will have you now.” Then disappeared in a flash of green. Malfoy’s hex hit the chimney stack and fizzled.

Hermione stared, and stared, at the spot he’d disappeared. She could hear Malfoy breathing heavily. She didn’t look at him as her brain kicked back into gear, and she raised her wand to alter the wards of her home to make sure Ron couldn’t come back. She doubled the protection, making sure to go over the runes carefully. Then she slowly walked to the sofa and sank onto it.

Chapter 10

Draco thought he might have blacked out in rage. How dare that piece of flobberworm entrails speak to his beautiful Herimone in such a way! Vaguely in the midst of his white-hot fury, he realised that she hadn’t denied there was anything between them to Weasley. He latched on to that and was able to calm down. 

Hermione had altered her wards; he felt the magic sweep over him like tiny raindrops. Her magic was lovely. Now she was sitting on the sofa with a vacant look on her face. 

“I’ll make some tea.” He announced and then went through the door that seemed most likely to be the kitchen. It was thankfully. He recalled his mother telling him that tea was often the cure for many troubles, though perhaps she didn’t mean lying, cheating fiancés. 

Hermione’s kitchen was tidy, well-organised in a way that didn’t surprise him at all. He easily found mugs and tea bags, but encountered issues when confronted with an e-lek-trik kettle. He tried to recall that section of the textbook he’d been forced to read. Ever the top student, he got it working, and it boiled the water in a very short time. Maybe muggles weren’t so hopeless after all.

He carried the mugs out to his witch, who was still staring into space. He set them down on coasters on the coffee table and sat beside her, letting his leg brush hers. He was thrown when she turned and wrapped her arms around his ribs. For a short moment, he was stunned, but quickly responded by wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her closer. She whimpered softly and sniffled.

“I’m so glad you were here. I’m sorry he spoke about you that way.” Her soft voice was muffled against his chest.

Draco hushed her and rubbed her back. This was the single greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and she was apologising? “Don’t. Don’t apologise for him.” He couldn’t keep the venom out of his voice, but gentled it for her. “I don’t care what he thinks of me. I only care if you are alright.”

“It does matter, Malfoy.” She lifted her head, and their faces were closer than they had ever been. Her face was rosy and tearstained but entirely lovely. Draco had to force himself under control, but his breathing became difficult. “I should have corrected him… now he thinks we are…” 

“Please,” Draco tried for a nonchalant smirk, “being linked to a witch of your calibre can only improve my image, Granger.” He tried not to laugh as she clucked her tongue and smacked his chest lightly.

“This is serious. Godric knows what he’s going to do now!” Her face faltered in worry, “Do you think he was seeing someone else?” Draco knew he had to tread very carefully. He moved one hand to her cheek and brushed away an errant tear.

“If he was, he’s a bigger idiot than I always thought he was.” He was looking into her wide, swirling chocolate eyes, and he was lost. “If I had you, I would never look away.” They just stared at each other, her blushing, him enthralled. Draco could have done it forever. He wiped away more tears and was just about to push his luck by kissing her on the forehead when a tapping at the window had them springing apart. 

It was a fucking owl. Draco made a note to rid the world of them and went to collect the letter. It was from his lawyer, Mr Burton, advising him that he was more than happy to meet with Ms Granger that afternoon. Draco made another note to add a bonus for the man in his next payment. 

Hermione changed into her normal attire, a modest wrap dress under her robes. They finished their tea and then left to meet with the solicitor. 

Draco was taken aback when Hermione asked him to stay with her while she worked through everything with Burton; he assumed she would want privacy. But he took the opportunity to sit beside her. He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as she was taken through the intricacies of magical law surrounding marriage, vaults, and the establishment of a family bond. He was not surprised when she asked thoughtful questions, and he was pleased that she seemed to relish the chance to understand exactly how it all worked. She was marvellous. She even took it in stride when it was explained to her that the spell work needed to seal her new estate to her required a drop of her blood.

After filling out all the paperwork for Burton to manage, they left the office, and he was relieved to find her spirits somewhat improved. Determination etched on her face. 

She then expressed that she was nervous to be at her house alone. Another opportunity he would let pass him by. He offered her the option to stay in Theo's and his guest room, but she decided to stay with Harry. He understood this choice but was obviously disappointed. He made sure she was safely deposited into the floo before returning to Forget me Nott. He couldn’t wait to tell Theo everything.

Chapter 11

“Are you sure you want a man?” Ginny made a scrunched-up face as she turned to continue riffling through Hermione’s wardrobe. “Because my teammate Emma is gorg and she’s single!” They had had some interaction of this conversation half a dozen times since her fiery-headed friend had blown into Hermione’s cottage this morning. Ginny had declared they were getting out on the town and getting Hermione back in the game.

It had been two weeks since the break-up, and a lot had happened. Harry had been livid about Ron, and it only stood to increase when the Daily Prophet printed that Ron had dumped Hermione for cheating with ‘Death Eater Draco Malfoy’. Mysteriously, photographs appeared in the paper in the following days of Ron in and out of seedy clubs, brothels and gambling dens. Hermione’s new solicitor issued a correction to the papers on her behalf that stated she had cut ties with Ron over his ever-growing debts and had taken action to prevent tarnishment of her good standing. Thank goodness for Draco Malfoy’s help in the matter. Hermione found herself thinking of him an ever-increasing amount. If I had you, I would never look away. Did he want her? Would she have him? She just might. He had been such a comfort. Sure and steady through everything. Not to mention devastatingly handsome.

“Hermione! Focus!” Ginny was holding up two dresses in front of her, and it snapped her out of her thoughts about a certain blond wizard.

“I’m sorry, what?” She blinked and looked at the two skimpy outfits. “That one is a Halloween costume, and that one is wildly inappropriate for anywhere on Diagon.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and shoved the Halloween costume back in the wardrobe. “We aren’t going to Diagon. We’re going to a Muggle club. Harry is bringing Nott, and Sez is coming too. And we’re going to get you under someone so you can get over my moron of an ex-brother.” Hermione wasn’t sure about this plan, and spending the evening with two couples risked her becoming depressed about her newly single life.

“I am over him, Gin. I haven’t thought about him at all.” Hermione took the small black dress she’d bought and never worn. It was tight and cut low at the front. It had looked amazing when she had tried it on in the store, but she had never had the chance to wear it for anything. Ginny sat on the bed next to her.

“Who have you been thinking about then? Because you’ve been getting this look like you used to when you liked Ron back in school.” Ginny asked earnestly.

“You’ll laugh” Hermione couldn’t meet her eye.

“I won’t.” Ginny said gently.
Hermione sighed heavily. “Draco Malfoy. But we’ve been friends for a while now, working on my initiative at work, and he was so helpful in arranging a meeting with his lawyer. A lifesaver, really, and he’s just so…” Hermione said very quickly.

“Drop dead gorgeous?” Ginny was grinning ear-to-ear now.

“Yeah,” Hermione covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Am I crazy?”

“No, darling, you’re not crazy. And this is perfect! We’ll just invite him!”

Ginny’s girlfriend, Sarah, a tall, blonde, athletic woman, came around to the cottage a little while later so the three of them could get ready together. Hermione had never had this kind of easy company with the girls she shared a dorm room with at Hogwarts. Lavender, may she rest in peace, and Pavarti had not been interested in being friends with a know-it-all bookworm like her. Getting ready with these two women felt the closest she’d had to real female friendship in her life. They helped her with her hair and make-up, Sarah knew a handy charm for eyeliner, and hyped each other up.

Many ‘you look so hot’s and ‘he’s going to jump you’s later, and several glasses of wine deep, they flooed to the Leaky briefly to apparate to a muggle part of London in an alley around the corner from the chosen club.

Hermione was nervous. She had to admit she looked and felt great in the dress and heels Ginny had picked for her. But she was worried maybe Malfoy would think she was a slag.

“Stop frowning.” Ginny said to her while they were in line, “Just enjoy yourself. There’s no pressure. We just need to get you back on that horse. Or dragon. Or whatever. You look great!”

The club was dim with disco lights. The air hummed with bass from the speakers, and the staccato synth popped over the top in an upbeat way for dancing. It was full but didn’t feel crowded. The bar ran along the back wall with mirrors that warped the dark colours of the carpet. People sat in booths and danced on the light-up dance floor. On the side, there were high tables with people gathered around each one. A group of three tall, handsome men was familiar. Hermione’s heart beat in her throat, and she tugged her skirt down an inch where it had ridden up her thigh. One of the dark-haired men spotted them first and broke away from the other dark-haired and fair-haired men. Harry bounded over and hugged Ginny first. He was excited to share that, to them, Theo was officially his boyfriend, and then hugged Hermione, telling her she looked great in an awkward way that suggested he saw her as a sister but wanted to be supportive. Theo came and slung his arms around Harry’s neck from behind.
“What’s say we get these ladies some drinks, Haz?” Theo kissed his cheek after saying this and then took Harry, Ginny and Sarah over to the bar, leaving Hermione facing Malfoy. His grey eyes glinted in the darkness as they travelled down, then back up.

“Granger, you look…” His voice sounded strained.

“Ridiculous?” Her cheeks heated under his scrutiny.
“I was going to say delicious. Would you like a drink?” He offered his arm. She took it before she could chicken out. He was warm and solid next to her. She instantly relaxed. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chapter 12

Salazar’s tits, this was awkward. Draco was forced to join Theodore, his former friend now, on a ‘fun night out with new friends’. Not bloody likely. He has also been forced to remove his smoking jacket from his outfit. Leaving him in just a crisp black button-down shirt and tailored trousers. He felt exposed and uncomfortable as they met Theo’s new boyfriend, Potter, at the club. 

Potter was being friendly enough, it seemed; he knew about Draco sending pictures to the Prophet of Ron in compromising locales. Potter had profusely thanked him when they had arrived for looking out for Hermione. Little did he know that Draco would move heaven, earth and every single star to make sure Hermione was okay.

Both Potter and Theo were disgustingly in love to Draco, he having spent the past two weeks agonising over how to ask out his witch properly. He relived the moment in her living room over and over. He should have just gone for it. He was such a coward. Always had been, always would be, it seemed. He listened politely as Potter told Theo a story about something that happened at the Auror office the previous day and how he was glad that he didn’t have Teddy this weekend. Draco perked up.

“Teddy Lupin?” Draco asked, interested. He hadn’t met his little cousin yet, but wanted to know how the boy was doing. Theo sauntered off to get drinks, possibly satisfied they could hold a conversation until he was back.

“Yeah, I have him most weekends to help Andy. I’d say she rests, but she's always doing charity work of some kind.”

“I think my mother and I would like to reconnect with her. And the boy.” Draco tried to sound casual, but he hated the desperation that leaked through. He was relieved when Potter grinned.

“I think they’d like that. Teddy is the best. He’s a metamorphmagus, you know, like his mother. Very impressive the things he can do!” Maybe Potter- no, he had said to call him Harry- wasn’t so bad after all.

“Perhaps we can set something up, I’ll send you an-” Draco started, but was cut off by Theo returning with drinks.

“When are the girls getting here, Haz?” Theo was smiling too much, and it was making Draco suspicious.

“Girls?” He asked carefully.

“Er, yeah,” Harry Potter always had a way with words, “Gin and her girlfriend are bringing Hermione with them. This whole night was Gin’s idea. She wanted to meet Theo properly.” Hermione. He was going to murder Theo for real for not informing him of this. Draco’s heart kicked up a notch and threatened to burst out of his chest.

“You and Genevra are still friends?” Draco inquired, trying not to vomit or pass out. He sipped his drink to steady himself.

Harry chuckled, “I dare you to call her Genevra and see what happens. But yeah, I owe her really. She was the one who realised we were both, well, not straight.”

“And don’t I adore her for it!” Theo chimed in and pulled Harry to his side by the waist. It was nauseating. Harry looked past Draco’s shoulder and pulled away. Draco turned.

Holy fucking Merlin’s sagging fucking ballsack. 

His mouth went dry. Walking in were three beautiful women. The two of them, holding hands, were tall and athletic, one with red hair and one with blonde hair, both in short dresses that hugged their hips. Harry hugged the redhead first. And just behind them was a fucking goddess, whom Harry hugged next. A slight bit shorter, but her legs looked long in the short black dress she was wearing. He could see every line of her. Her neckline dipped, teasing the perfect roundness of her breasts. She had a scar just below her right collarbone that he ached to kiss. Her usually wild brown hair was tamed into soft waves. He was so incredibly fucked. He was lucky not to blow in his trousers on sight. Hermione Granger was a vision. He honestly didn’t know how he managed to walk over and not give in to his base urge to pick her up and carry her away like a caveman. He wondered if she would like that. He chastised himself and managed to compliment her. And then he offered to buy her a drink. He was a gentleman after all.

–

Hermione felt hot and cold at the same time. She was barely covered in her dress, but she was also sitting in a booth next to Draco Malfoy as the others danced a few feet away. They had all had a round of drinks and made friendly conversation before the couples decided to dance, leaving her alone with Malfoy. She was sure he hadn’t looked away from her once the whole time. He shifted closer and leaned in to talk to her, making her whole body heat.

“How have you been doing? Be honest.” He rumbled close to her ear.

“Oh, I’m great! Really. No regrets.” She chirped.

He looked seriously at her for a moment before smiling slightly. She knew it was genuine because his eyes crinkled. “I’m glad to hear it.” His gaze was so piercing she had to look away. She looked over at her friends dancing and smiled.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? I never would have thought at school how well they suit each other.” She watched as Theo grabbed a smiling Harry’s hips and ground into the back of him. She heard Draco make a sputtering noise, and she looked back at him to see him looking pointedly at the wall beside him. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh come on! They’re happy.”

“Disgusting, more like,” Draco grumbled. He seemed to recover and look back at her. “But I suppose I’m happy for them. Especially since I get to see you.” His hand landed on the skin of her thigh, and she instinctively shifted closer, heart pounding.

“Oh,” She tried very hard to keep her voice at a normal pitch, thank goodness she was feeling brave from the drinks she’d had, “Why’s that?” Her heart kicked up as he dipped his head close to hers. He was so close. The smell of his expensive woody cologne enveloped her like a comforting hug.

“Well, we are friends now, are we not?” She nodded in response, “and I’ve been meaning to do this for quite some time now.” His free hand came up to push her hair back over her shoulder, and then his lips brushed hers. She pressed forward to meet them. 

Kissing Draco was like the sun coming out in the morning. She didn’t want it to end. They kissed like they had kissed a thousand times before. Her arms went around his neck, and his locked around her back. He trailed fingers over her spine and pushed the others into her hair to angle her head so he could deepen the kiss.

It was perfect. She loved the taste of him and had to stop from moaning as their tongues brushed. Somehow she was now perched on his leg, and he broke their kiss to trail his mouth along her jaw and down the side of her neck.

“Hermione,” he rasped, “this fucking dress” She buried her face in his shoulder as his hand moved to her thigh and teased the hem of it.

–

Draco couldn’t believe this was happening. She was in his arms. He’d actually done it and made his move. Her skin was so soft and perfect. She smelled like a floral dream, with a hint of vanilla. He was just about to lift his head from her neck and kiss her again when his future murder victim, Theo, interrupted.
“I’m staying with Haz tonight, Dray.” Like Draco fucking cared, “We’re about to head off. Enjoy having the flat to yourself.” Oh. Oh. 

He reluctantly released Hermione from his grip so they could both stand and say their goodbyes. 

He managed to snag her arm to murmur in her ear.

“Come have a drink with me at mine?” His heart pounded as he braced for rejection, but she turned into her arms.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Chapter 13

Draco didn’t know what to do. They were drawing closer to his townhouse, and he had no idea what he was going to do once he got her inside. Lock her up? Never let her leave his bed? Stop it. He hadn’t prepared for this possibility, and it was all Theo’s fault. He knew Hermione appreciated directness and honesty, so maybe he would just lay everything out for her. Women liked romantic declarations. Didn’t they? 

He ushered her inside to the front room and went to the cabinet to pour them drinks. His hands were trembling. 

“This is a nice place,” Hermione said softly, still standing by the sofa.

“Thanks, I,” Draco hesitated, “I didn’t like staying at the Manor after everything, and Theo burnt his family home to the ground.”
“He what?” Hermione gasped. Draco turned back to her. She’d removed her shoes and placed them neatly beside the sofa. He noted her dainty toes were perfectly painted in a shade of purple. She reached for the drink in his hands, and he relinquished it. For a moment, he forgot what he was saying.

“His father was worse than mine.” He cleared his throat, “I really don’t blame him. If it wasn’t for my mother, I probably would have done the same. Especially after what happened to you there.” Hermione flinched, and he instantly regretted his words. He was already fucking this up. “I’m sorry,”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “You’ve already apologised. It’s in the past.”

“It’s not alright though, Hermione,” He was splitting at the seams, “I was awful to you and a horrible coward. I didn’t stand up to my father, and I let terrible things happen. You didn’t deserve any of it, and I certainly don’t deserve you.” Hermione did something shocking to Draco. He was expecting her to finally realise she didn’t want to be there at all, but instead she took both their glasses and set them down. She then took his hands in hers, his drowned hers, and squeezed.

“We were just children dragged into something we had no choice in. We are both different people now. You’ve proved to me how much you’ve changed.” Her words knocked the air right out of his lungs, and he tugged her closer, crashing his mouth down on hers.

It was divine. He hauled her up into his arms and locked her legs around his waist. She let out a startled noise and braced her hands on his shoulders.

“Is this okay?” He broke the kiss to ask breathlessly. She nodded and went back in to kiss him. He obliged with a hum. “Use your words, Hermione.” He said against her lips.

“Yeah, yes.” She was panting, and that thrilled Draco completely.

“I’m going to take you up to my room now, okay?”
“Okay.”

–

Draco’s room was exactly as she had expected; it suited him. It was clean, with sleek, masculine furniture, a small stack of books on his side table and a set of silvery silk sheets on the bed he deposited her on. She watched him unbutton his shirt and strip it off with precise movements. His torso was lean but fairly muscular and cut with old scars slashing across it in pale pink lines. The sight of him removing his belt and leaving it on the shirt on the floor sent a hot thrill through her. She was aching for him to touch her. It had never been this way with Ron, more obligatory than anything, something she thought she had to do. She wondered vaguely why it was so different with Draco. She had always found him annoyingly attractive, but now he was consuming her.

He prowled forward to the bed and climbed over her. Her back hit the pillows, and she gazed up at him, breathless with anticipation.

“You are so,” he kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, murmuring, “beautiful Hermione.” He travelled down to her neck and collarbone. She felt him kiss the ugly scar she got during the battle at the Ministry at the end of the fifth year. 

“Draco,” She almost whined. His head popped up, and he was looking at her in unbridled awe, his grey eyes clear and wide.

“Anything you want. It’s yours.” He covered her with his body and kissed her again. That wonderful, perfect kiss that took her breath. 

They didn’t do much talking after that, aside from his quiet rumbles and whispers of how perfect and beautiful she was. He pushed her dress all the way up and tossed it away. Her fingers fumbled with the button on his trousers so they could be tossed aside as well. His hands were strong and sure as he ran them over her bare skin. Her body felt alight with desire, and slickness gathered at her core. 

Finally, they divested themselves of their underwear. He paused to look at her beneath him. It stole her breath. No one had ever looked at her like that before.

“Still okay?” He asked again

“Very okay.” She responded immediately and was delighted when his face broke out in a genuine smile. “Good, because I’m going to take my time with you.” His handsome face turned hungry. He kissed down her chest and over her stomach, pushing her legs wider so he could settle between them.

The first brush of his tongue on her clit had her back arching and air rushing into her lungs. He gripped her hips and devoured her. It was transcendent bliss, the sure strokes sending sparks throughout her. He groaned against her and inserted a finger.

“Is this for me, love?” His voice was gravelly, “So wet, so perfect.” She could only moan in response. “That’s it.” He lowered his mouth over her clit and sucked lightly, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. That, and his now two fingers pumping her and stroking the spot inside of her that made her toes curl, had her teetering close to the edge. She clutched the sheets and his fine, soft hair. He let out a growl and quickened the pace of his ministrations. 

Stars burst behind her eyes as she clamped down on his fingers. He stroked her through it and then pulled away. Her eyes popped open to the most erotic sight of him licking his fingers clean, looking smug. She reached for him, and he obliged with enthusiasm. His considerable girth bumped her still sensitive core, and she gasped.

“I’m on the potion.” She said quickly, and he groaned, but didn’t waste time. It was the only confirmation he seemed to need that she wanted this. He pushed his hips forward and stretched her slowly. Inch by inch, their eyes were locked, both with parted lips, until he was fully sheathed, and he dropped his head to kiss her.

“So fucking perfect,” He said, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t either, but she didn’t care as his hips started to roll against hers. There was no awkwardness; it wasn’t like a first time with anyone. They matched each other's movements in perfect synchronicity. The drag of his thick length was delectable. Their kisses turned messy, and they picked up the pace. It seemed impossible to her that she was already feeling the tight coil of pleasure again. How was he so good at this? She didn’t question it, though, too lost in the feeling of him. She moaned in surprise as he bit down on her shoulder, hips still moving deliciously. “Hermione, you feel so good, I’m not going to last much longer.”
“Me either,” she rasped out. He snaked a hand between them to rub circles on her as he kept rolling his hips. She felt him start to swell and her start to unravel. They came apart together, moaning each other’s names against lips. 

He peppered kisses over her flushed and sweaty face, then gathered her up in his arms to lie next to him as they caught their breath.

–

Draco had died. He was sure of it. This was heaven. Hermione's hair had regained some of its wildness and was tickling his skin as her head rested on his shoulder. He smoothed his hand up and down her back, unable to stop touching her. She tilted her head and looked at him. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were glassy with pleasure. Pleasure he’d given her. He smiled at her. He rarely smiled, but this was the best day of his sorry life. She smiled back, causing a minor explosion in his chest. He took his hand and cupped her cheek. Her eyes fluttered before focusing on him again.

“I should have taken you on a date first.” He blurted out, apparently disarmed by their coupling.

“You still can, if you’d like.” She said through a pretty smile. He was elated.

“Please stay? We can talk about it over breakfast.” He was even more overjoyed as she snuggled into him more and sighed.

“Alright, Draco.”

He pulled his duvet up over them and held her close as he silently swore to all the gods that had abandoned him up until this moment that he was going to keep this witch.

Eplilogue

Five years later

Draco had, in fact, managed to keep his witch. Dating Hermione had been as easy as breathing. It came so naturally that it surprised them both. They had spent many an hour debating complicated topics of potionwork and spellcraft, wizarding laws and all manner of ways to change their world and make it better for the future. And they rarely, if ever, spent a night apart after that first one. 

A year into dating, he had proposed, ringless and stupidly, after a particularly mindblowing session of sex that had stolen his critical thinking ability. She had just laughed musically and told him she’d thought he’d never ask.

That was that.

He’d even allowed Theo and Harry to be his groomsmen. They had stood the test of time as well, living together at Harry’s house. Theo had thoroughly embarrassed him (of course) in his best man speech, but Draco hadn’t given a damn, as he couldn’t take his eyes off Hermione in her white dress the entire time. They had wed in the gardens of Malfoy Manor, but he refused to let her go into the house, sweeping her away to their Cornwall house as soon as it was done. When they first saw that house together, they instantly knew it was for them. It was set by the ocean amongst a beautiful landscape. It had a big library and sprawling garden where they would lounge together in blissful ease.

He couldn’t believe how correct he’d been that they were perfectly suited to each other. Their intellects, their desires, their dreams, all aligned cosmically. 

Two years ago, she had given him his greatest gift. His son. They had argued about names endlessly. He had wanted Scorpius, but she had emphatically disagreed. He knew better than to fight her when she had made up her mind.

Currently, he was in the sunny garden, and Hermione was at work as something had come up in the Minister for Magic's office. The Minister for Magic, being his wife, had to attend. He watched as Leo tottered around in the grass, his pale curls glinting in the sunlight. Draco was entranced with his little face, hands, and laughter. Leo was joy wrapped up in the tiniest, perfect package. He watched as Leo's little face transformed into a big smile. 

“Mummy!” yelled Leo as he shot off across the lawn towards the house. Draco took a breath and turned to see his wife. She was by the back door watching them, the sunlight putting golden streaks into her hair. She lowered down to catch the running toddler in her arms and kiss his head. 

Draco approached in a much more dignified manner, but no less eager. Hermione rose with Leo balanced on her hip.

“How are my boys doing?” Her honey voice was like balm to Draco’s soul.

“We’re well,” he replied, “You’re back sooner than expected.”

“Crisis averted. They just needed to be reminded I’m intractable on the issue.” Wasn’t she always? His beautiful, strong, brilliant wife. He swooped in to kiss her, Leo making a cute noise of protest. “Shall we have lunch? Maybe a picnic?”

It sounded good to Draco. Anything with his perfect little family sounded good to him. He’d make sure his son grew up with love and choices, and he’d dote on his wife until his dying breath.