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Still Married?

Summary:

George decides to test a newlywed-esque game for his shop to the group. Hermione and Draco, being the only two single players get partnered up each month that the group plays.

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Chapter Text

“Alright, gather round!” George bellowed over the crowded room. “Ron, I’ve got that seat over there set up for you,” he added as Ron walked passed him.

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked Ginny.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders and turned to Harry beside her when he started to speak.

“George wants us to try this new game concept he’s created for the shop,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

“And he thought the best time to play this was at Ron’s anniversary party?” Hermione questioned.

They were all gathered in Ron’s living room on the night of his first anniversary. The previous year, he had married a lovely witch named Sarah Lockington in his parent’s garden in over the top fashion that only Molly Weasley was capable of. Sarah was the perfect match for Ron, level headed, patient, and an incredible cook. The full blown celebration had ended a few hours before and a handful of them had hung back to have some drinks and socialize.

Harry shrugged. “I guess it’s a couples game. And how often are we all together?”

Ginny took a sip of her drink and lifted her shoulders at Hermione. “Maybe it could be fun! Get in the spirit, Hermione.”

“Harry, Ginny, take a seat right there. Perfect,” George said directing couples to the proper seats. “Okay, Hermione, if you could sit right here.”

Hermione furrowed her brows. “Er, George, in case you forgot, I’m not part of a couple.”

“Right,” he said glancing around the room. “Malfoy.” He pointed dramatically to the blond across the room. “You can fill in as Hermione’s someone.”

Hermione sputtered into her drink. “Escus- Malfoy?!”

Malfoy made his way across the room and stopped a few feet from the sofa she was sitting on. “Got a problem with that, Granger?”

Hermione hesitated. There wasn’t anything necessarily wrong with Malfoy per se, he was just an incredibly obnoxious arrogant git. He had definitely grown up in the years since Hogwarts. He didn’t dwell on anyone’s purity or look down on anyone for having less than him, but he still could get under her skin in a way that only he could. Malfoy had started working with Harry and Ron about three years ago, and after a year or so of them starting over new, the three got along almost as well as she got on with the two boys herself. Since their friendship, the four of them spent time together here and there, and while it wasn’t entirely dreadful, there were still moments that Hermione wanted to wring his neck. He just had a way of pushing every button she’d ever had.

“Ugh, nothing. Let’s just get this over with,” she grumbled. Malfoy grinned mockingly and sat beside her on the couch. She wiggled a little further from him so she was pressed against the arm of the sofa.

“Alright, now that we have our teams, I thought I should preface this game by saying it is still in development so there are bound to be some kinks, so bear with me.” Everyone nodded in understanding. “Brilliant,” George said as he clapped his hands together. “Now that we have our married couples seated on the sofas-”

Hermione gaped at the redhead. “Married?” She whipped her head to face Malfoy. “This is a married couples game?” Malfoy just lifted his shoulders in response, and directed his attention back to the center of the room.

“Hermione, I can see that look on your face. For the premise of the game, you and Malfoy will play a married couple. And you can’t say no,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest, “or the game will fail and my business will crumble.” Hermione snapped her mouth shut with defiance. “Now, where were we?”

Malfoy leaned closer to speak so quietly that only she could hear him. “Hey, Granger, I really hope we win.” Hermione scoffed and pushed him away from her.

“-all the spell does is make you glow a specific color to show whether or not your partner got the question right. It won’t hurt and will fade on its own after a few hours,” George was continuing to the group.

After he waved his wand over everyone’s heads, he started shuffling a stack of cards that he had pulled from his robes. He placed the stack on the table in front of him and drew a card from the top of the pile. “First question: what is your spouse’s favorite meal? Sarah?”

Sarah perked right up, clearly knowing the answer to the question. “Oh! Ron’s favorite meal is steak and kidney pie with mashed potatoes and corn bread!”

Everyone turned toward Ron to see if Sarah had indeed got the question right and what would happen if she was correct. Suddenly a halo of green behind Ron’s head began to glow. It brightened until it was shooting rays across the room and everyone had to divert their eyes. Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“Maybe need to lower the brightness of that then,” George mumbled to himself as he made a quick note on a scrap of parchment. “Okay, Ginny, same question.”

Ginny didn’t hesitate and monotonically stated Harry’s favorite meal. “Fish and chips. Doesn’t want anything too fancy this one.”

Harry chuckled, but turned his eyes upward to the green that began to glow around his head.

“Excellent! Hermione?”

Annoyingly Hermione knew Malfoy’s favorite meal, they ate enough together over the past few years. Of course he would want something elaborate for his favorite meal, he was Malfoy after all. “Beef Wellington with green beans, mashed potatoes and Firewhisky. Followed up by Pumpkin Pasties,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Everyone in the room directed their eyes toward her, shocked that she would know something so intimate and specific about Malfoy. Suddenly Malfoy’s hair began to glow green and everyone’s eyes grew larger.

“Interesting to know, Granger,” Malfoy mumbled beside her.

She rolled her eyes and addressed George, “Can we move on? Next question.”

George gained his composure and moved on. The rest of the game went on with very few hiccups. Ginny had gotten the question of Harry’s most recent dream wrong: she said he had dreamt of getting chased by Hippogriffs, when he had actually had a dream about falling off his broom during a game of Quidditch. Ron had gotten two questions wrong about Sarah: what her favorite flower was and what color she hated the most. Hermione surprisingly, had gotten almost all questions about Malfoy right. When Ginny questioned out loud how that was possible, Hermione spat out that Malfoy talks so much about himself, it was hard to not hear it all. Malfoy in turn, had gotten only three questions about Hermione wrong. When he answered the first question correct, he had boasted and told her that she was easily readable, so when he had got the next question wrong, Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at the look of defeat on his face.

“What do you mean your favorite color is purple? You’re always wearing blue!” He exclaimed.

“Only because it looks better on me. I can like purple in other things,” she explained.

He just shook his head and crossed his arms. “It’s blue,” he mumbled under his breath.

At the end of the night, not surprising, Ginny and Harry had won with only one question missed a piece. They cheered and embraced and passed drinks around the room in celebration.

“Hey, Granger. Are we still married?” She heard behind her when she was on her way out of the room.

“Wha-?” Hermione turned to gape at Malfoy.

“Good,” he grinned. “Mind filling my glass again on your way to the kitchen?” He held his empty glass out to her.

She frowned, but snatched the glass from his hand anyway and grumbled the whole way to the kitchen.

When she returned, everyone was donning their cloaks and heading for the door.

“See you the same time next month!” George shouted over his shoulder right before he exited the house and disappeared with a CRACK.

“Next month?” She questioned no one in particular, two full glasses poised in her hand.

“He wants to try it again after he’s worked out all the flaws,” Malfoy replied, grabbing his glass from her hand and downing it in one go. “Don’t want Weasley’s hair catching on fire again.”

“It didn’t catch fire!” Ron said. “It just smoked a touch,” he whispered under his breath.

“Could’ve fooled me. I best be off. See you next time, wife,” he said to Hermione. He whipped his cloak around his shoulders and disappeared into the night.

…....

One Month Later:

The same group as before were all crammed in George’s tiny living room; he had asked them all last minute to meet him in his flat above the joke shop, so if there were any mishaps, he could fix them much quicker than if they were at someone else’s house.

Ginny and Harry had taken the sofa, Sarah and Ron took the loveseat, leaving the single armchair for Hermione and Malfoy. She had opted for sitting on the arm, with Malfoy in the seat, until he had pulled her into his lap. She fought and squirmed and kicked and he just roped his arms around her waist and held tight.

“If we’re married, Granger, then you need to sit with your husband for the game,” he snickered into her ear. She huffed and pulled her elbow back into his ribs, forcing him to let go and allowing her to take the space on the floor by his feet. He nudge her with his foot, which she smacked away from her.

“Right,” George started as he sorted through a pile of cards. “I fixed a few of the mishaps we had last time, so hopefully it will go a lot smoother this time.” He waved his wand over everyone’s heads and began the game.

The game was going well enough, each team was tied with four points each and the competitiveness was really starting to kick in. Ginny had whooped and paraded around the room when Harry correctly guessed her guilty pleasure: eating Chocolate Frogs in bed. Ron had lifted Sarah up and spun her around when she answered his biggest fear: spiders. Malfoy had even challenged the spell-work when his head turned red at his answer of Hermione’s favorite book: Hogwarts: A History.

“I know it’s her favorite book!” He shouted, jumping up from his seat in a fit of anger. “I’ve seen her read it about a million times! Ask her! If I’m wrong I’ll give you my entire inheritance!”

All eyes moved to Hermione who nodded, confirming his answer. “It is my favorite book.”

“I told you!” Malfoy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. He turned toward Hermione, his chest heaving at his tirade. Their eyes met briefly. He winked at her and she felt a small flutter in the pit of her stomach. She averted her eyes before she could decide what that was about.

George just nodded and twirled his wand above her head. “It seems as though you’re right, Malfoy. I’ll change the score accordingly.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy huffed, plopping back down in his chair.

After another hour of the game, the Potters had taken the lead by three points.

“Last question,” George announced. “Where is your spouse’s comfort space?”

“Easy,” Malfoy said, leaning back in the chair. “The library.”

Everyone nodded in agreement until the ring around his head glowed red.

“Is this some kind of glitch again?” He grumbled.

Hermione shook her head, a small smile appearing on her lips. “Nope, that’s not right.”

Malfoy leaned forward in the chair and turned his head to her. “What?”

She lifted hers to look up at him. “That’s not right, Malfoy. It’s somewhere else.”

Ginny snickered at the look of defeat on Malfoy’s face from across the room. He directed his glowering look to her. “Not everyone can be as perfect as you and Potter, Ginny.”

She shrugged and twisted a strand of hair between her fingers, a smirk appearing on her lips. “No, but they do try don’t they?”

After Ginny and Harry were announced the winners, drinks were distributed around the room. Hermione grabbed a pillow for behind her back, but stayed planted on her spot on the floor. Malfoy had stayed in his chair as well, leaning over slightly to converse with Ron about a project at work.

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the chair, listening to the pleasant conversation between her friends. After a few moments of peace she felt a slight nudge on her knee. She opened her eyes to find Malfoy towering over her from his spot on the armchair.

“So what is your comfort spot, Granger?”

She smiled and leaned her head back again. “Give it a good think, Malfoy.”

He mumbled something under his breath, but stayed in his spot, determined to find the answer.

“The archives in the Ministry?” He asked.

“No.”

“The library at your flat?”

“No.”

“The rooftop garden on the Mairie du Centre-ville in Paris?”

Hermione lifted her head slightly and opened her eyes looking at him incredulously. “The what? No.”

His forehead wrinkled and his brow furrowed. Hermione sat forward and chuckled. “Malfoy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I should know my fake wife’s favorite place, shouldn’t I, Granger?” He snapped.

Hermione sighed and twisted her body to face him. “There’s a park by my parents house, where I grew up. In the back of the park is a duck pond with a gazebo covered in wisteria. It’s beautiful and peaceful. While I do like to bring books there, I prefer it there than the library.”

His mouth dropped open dramatically as she spoke. When she was finished he said, “Now how would I have known that?”

Hermione lifted her shoulders and threw a smirk at him. “Not sure. I have a picture of it in my flat. Just wanted to know how observant you are.”

Malfoy shook his head, exasperated. “You’re impossible.” He leaned closer toward her subtly. “Now, Granger,” he looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Ginny and Potter have this game rigged. I think we should meet on the side so we can beat them next time.”

“Next time? I hardly think there’ll be a need for us to all meet again,” she sputtered out a bit stunned.

He turned his gaze to meet her eye to eye. “Oh come off it, Granger. Of course there’ll be another time. Those two need to be humbled don’t you think?”

George seemed to have gotten all the information he needed to release the game in the next few months to the public. There was no reason for them all the meet again to play, but Hermione had forgotten the company she was in. Of course they would all want to meet again to play. They had gotten incredibly competitive that evening, even so much as to shout insults at each other across the flat. They meant business and they meant to win.

“Fine,” she drawled out in a sigh. “If we must. But that’s all this is,” she added, pointing to his chest. “Nothing more.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Of course. I would never imagine it to be anything more.”

“Good,” she said as she stood from her spot.

“Where are you going?”

“The kitchen, I’m starved.”

“Granger,” he pronounced her name slowly in that annoying way that told her he wanted something from her. “If we’re still married, would you mind grabbing something for me as well?” He grinned at her, like she was one of the typical girls he spent time with that would do whatever he asked.

“Fine. But if we’re still married, you’re giving up that chair when I get back.”

He chuckled and leaned back in the seat. “We’ll see.”

…...

Two Weeks Later:

Hermione sat in the dark corner of the empty pub sipping on her Butterbeer. She and Malfoy had agreed to meet here over a half hour ago and he was entirely too late for her liking. She was just about to get up and walk out when he came bursting through the door, a bundle of parchment clutched to his chest.

“Right,” he said in greeting as he dumped the papers to the table. “Here are the most likely questions that George will ask us.”

“Most likely? How could you possibly know that?” Hermione asked as she picked up a couple of the parchments that had landed in front of her.

“Just a little bit of espionage, Granger,” Malfoy replied, a playful glint in his eye.

“Malfoy, I’m not cheating!”

“Relax, Granger. I found some old articles in Witch Weekly that had questions to ask your partner. I figured that must be where he got his questions from.” He slid into the booth across from her and signaled to the bartender that he’d take what she was drinking.

“And where did you find old articles of Witch Weekly?” She chortled at him.

“My mother likes to keep them around… shove off!”

She laughed again and reached for a sheet at random. “Okay, well let’s start with an easy one then,” She skimmed the page with her finger before landing on a safe enough question. “Did you have any childhood pets? Well I guess the real question is did you have any pets other than Aries?”

Malfoy turned from the bartender who had just delivered his drink. “What?”

“Aries. Your eagle owl. That was his name right?” She continued to skim through the paper and when he didn’t answer she glanced up at him. “What’s wrong?”

Malfoy just shook his head in disbelief. “I just didn’t know you knew his name.”

Hermione chuckled and went back to her paper. “Of course I knew it. It whacked me on the back of the head with it’s wing just about every morning.”

Malfoy took a gulp of his Butterbeer and almost spat it across the table. “I forgot about that. I told him to do that. I couldn’t believe the first day when he did it.”

Hermione looked up and sniggered at his reaction. “You were quite the prat, Draco Malfoy.”

“That I was,” he said toasting her with his glass.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her sheet. The comment didn’t upset her like it would have in the past. After he had gained Harry and Ron’s friendship, Malfoy had apologized to her for his actions in the past. She had been surprised, but glad that he had moved past the bullying phase of his life. Now his comments were mostly teasing, lacking all the malice they carried when they were in school.

“Well you did have that furball in school,” he continued with her question, “but I’m not sure if you had anything before then.”

“My parents got me a hamster one year for my birthday. I had a hard time caring for it so they gifted it to my cousin the next year. She killed it in a month,” she said nonchalantly.

He laughed as he grabbed a parchment of his own. “Oh here’s one, ‘who is the better cook?’ You obviously.”

Hermione lowered her paper and glowered at him. “What do you mean ‘me obviously’?”

Malfoy looked up and met her gaze. “I’ve always had elves to cook for me and you’re… you know…” He trailed off but his intent was clearly there.

“Because I’m a woman?” He put up his hands as if to say well yeah. How dare he make such a sexist comment! “I can’t believe you’d say that! I’ll have you know, I am a terrible cook!” She exclaimed.

“Well out of the two of us, I’d say you’re probably the best, Granger.” He gestured between the two of them.

“We’ll just have to see about that,” Hermione retorted. “I’ve burnt almost everything I’ve made. I’ve had to change my palate to include char.”

Malfoy threw his head back and laughed. “Point well made. We’ll just have to test that theory one day and see.”

The rest of the evening flew by much quicker than either of them anticipated. They had gone through most of the papers Malfoy had brought, only knowing a handful of information about the other based on the questions they asked. Hermione was beginning to see the questions really were from Witch Weekly based on how explicit the questions turned. At one point Hermione had read a question expecting to laugh over it with Malfoy when he responded with a sincere answer.

“Who’s the better kisser?” Hermione laughed. “Who comes up with these questions?”

“Well that would obviously be me,” Malfoy answered casually, not looking up from his paper.

“What? Why you?”

Malfoy’s brows knitted together. “Because I’ve had the most practice,” he said matter-of-factly.

Hermione scoffed. “Who said I haven’t had practice?”

Malfoy gave her a level look. “Granger, I’m sure you’re a decent kisser. But you haven’t been around as much as I have.”

Hermione could feel her face get hot. She turned her eyes back to the parchment in her hand as to avoid his look. She tried to brush off his comment with something sarcastic.
“Oh so being a harlot is something to flaunt?”

Malfoy snorted. “Hardly, but it’s just a fact.”

After about two hours of back and forth, Hermione stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “I think that’s enough for tonight,” she said as she collected the parchment from the table.

Malfoy nodded and helped her stack the questions. “Good idea. Meet back here next week?”

Hermione’s head jerked up to meet his. Next week? Was he really that serious about beating Harry and Ginny that he wanted to meet with her twice before the next game night? Something in his eyes told her to say yes, which she did without further thought.

“Great. See you,” he said brightly. He grabbed the stack of papers and whisked out the door, his robes billowing behind him.

...….

Two Weeks Later:

Hermione plopped into the armchair, pleased that she had beaten Malfoy to George’s flat, allowing her to claim the chair before him. They had met the week before in the same dark corner of the pub, Malfoy equipped with even more questions. Hermione had quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t question his dedication to the game. If he wanted to beat their friends that badly, then so be it. Who was Hermione to judge? They had spent another two hours drilling each other for answers, most of which the other already knew. It was amazing what you could learn in three years of acquaintanceship.

Malfoy barged into the room, confidence pouring off of him. Hermione couldn’t help but smile at his self-assuredness as he approached her. He raised a brow at her.

She answered his unspoken question. “If we’re married, wife gets the chair. You have to learn to take turns, dear Draco.”

His lips twitched at her response. He bowed at the hips mockingly before taking her seat the previous week on the floor.

Once everyone was seated and George started to delve out the questions, Hermione became hyper aware of how close Malfoy was to her legs. She could feel the heat of his body seeping into her jeans. For some reason, this caused her cheeks to flare with heat. She wiggled in her seat trying to move away from him, but the pressure on her legs returned again shortly after. Why was he sitting so close to her? Surely she didn’t sit this close to him when she sat on the floor last month. Did he like sitting close to her? Did she like him sitting close to her? No, that would just be ridiculous.

“Hermione?” George interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh wha-? Yes?”

The room snickered at her.

“I asked you what Malfoy’s favorite ice cream flavor was.”

“Right.” She wracked her brain for the answer. She could vaguely remember him telling her the answer to this question while they were in the pub the previous week. The slight pressure on her leg from his arm was making it hard to think. “Uh..” She picked up her legs and crossed them under her. Then the answer came to her. “Sticky Toffee.”

Malfoy’s hand reached up to pat her knee, her heart pounded fast in response. “Good job, Granger.”

She looked down and gave him an unenthusiastic smile. What was the matter with her? They were playing a friendly game together and all he did was congratulate her on getting the answer correct. There was no need for this type of reaction.

Hermione cleared her throat and adjusted her legs again, this time further away from Malfoy’s reach, and directed her focus to George as he asked Sarah the next question.

The evening had drug on much slower than Hermione had anticipated. Not only was everyone completely tied up, but her focus was taken from the game with every little movement Malfoy made; when he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, when another team got an answer wrong and he moved his arm in a celebratory manner. He had to get up once to go to the loo and she couldn’t keep her eyes off his retreating figure. At one point she had laughed at something Ron said and unconsciously reached down to place her hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. When he turned to look at her hand, she pulled it away as quickly as possible. Her answering questions correctly didn’t help matters much either, he would pat her knee, or squeeze her foot, and one startling moment had stood up and pulled her into a celebratory hug. She had sat down very quickly after that with heat rising to her cheeks again.

No one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary though as they were all determined to win the game. Ron had stood up, gotten in Harry’s face and yelled, “In your face, Potter! Eat it!” When he and Sarah were named the winners. Ginny had thrown her wand to the ground and pounced on Ron. George had to pry her off of their brother and begged that the next month not to be as intense.

Because of her outlandish thoughts, Hermione had drunken more than her fair share of Firewhisky and she was feeling it. She had her head laid back in the armchair, her fingers making wand movements in the air. After Harry had dragged a raging Ginny through the fireplace, Malfoy had turned around and faced her.

“Good job tonight, Granger. We almost got them. Next time for sure.”

She miraculously made some sort of agreeable noise.

He chuckled and touched her leg. “Had a little too much to drink there?” He looked over and eyed the glass of half drunken Firewhisky in her hand.

“Malfoy, are we still married?”

He smirked and leaned closer to hear her better. “Yes, why’s that, Granger?”

“I seem to be inebriated. Mind taking me home?” She grumbled softly.

He laughed again and pulled her into a standing position. “With pleasure, dear Granger.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and to both of their surprises, she wrapped her arm around his waist. Malfoy nodded to the two Weasley brothers on their way out and Disapperated with a CRACK.

Hermione awoke the next morning with a terrible headache and a roaring in her ears. She groaned as she rolled onto her side to grab her wand from the nightstand. Underneath her wand she found a slip of parchment. She pulled it closer to her face so she could read the loopy writing.

I left a Hangover Potion for you in the bathroom, lightweight.

See you next month.

DM

Hermione crumbled up the parchment and tossed it across the room. She could almost hear him mocking her through the paper. He couldn’t just drop her off and leave her be, he had to keep up his teasing attitude. She sat up and tried to hold back her sudden urge to vomit. Next month. So he didn’t expect to meet up again in two weeks to practice for the next night- fine by her. The last thing she needed was to get smashed again and become even more of an embarrassment.

The one positive thing about not seeing him for another month, she thought while she brushed her teeth, was that she had enough time to get her feelings under control, lest she make a fool of herself again.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Next month:

Hermione stood in front of the mirror and waved her wand over her hair for the third time. You would think by adulthood her hair would’ve gotten the memo and tamed itself over the years, but it seemed to have gotten even more wild. She sighed angrily and tossed her wand in the sink, picking up a jar of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. She didn’t even know why she was bothering with her hair in the first place. It’s not like the other months meeting up and playing George’s dating game were any different. She glanced at the jar in her hand, made the decision and placed it back on the counter. Her hair looked fine. A little more outrageous than normal, but fine.

Based on everyone’s attitudes the previous months, she was sure she would get an owl from Malfoy asking to meet with her again in two weeks, but apparently their two other meetings had been satisfactory because she hadn’t heard a thing from him. Not that she had even wanted to hear anything from him. She had had a stressful month at work and wouldn’t have had time to meet with him about a silly game anyway.

She took one last look in the mirror, adjusted her jumper, reprimanded herself for adjusting her jumper and made her way to the fireplace.

George’s living room was practically empty, save for Ron and George having a whispered conversation in the corner. Once she stepped through the hearth, they barely glanced at her and waved her into the kitchen. Ginny and Sarah were preparing snacks for everyone, having a whispered conversation of their own, Harry sitting quietly at the table.

Hermione took the seat next to Harry and poured a drink for herself from the bottle of Firewhisky on the table.

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry mumbled into his glass.

“Hi, Harry. What’s everyone whispering about?”

Harry took a quick look around and leaned toward her, “Ron came into my office today to tell me he’s thinking of leaving the DMLE.”

The glass paused halfway to Hermione’s mouth and she turned to gape at Harry. “What? Why would he do that?”

Harry shrugged and took another sip. “He didn’t give me much reason, but said we would all find out tonight.”

The sound of fire roared from the other room, followed shortly by George’s booming voice, “Oi, you lot come out from the kitchen. We’re all here now.”

Hermione had barely made it into the room before her path was blocked by a towering force. She had just made out the blond hair before hands were gripping her face and Malfoy lowered his face into her view.

“Granger, tonight is our night, I can feel it. We can do this,” he spoke quiet enthusiasm with enough confidence that it radiated from him.

Hermione blinked at his sudden closeness. Callused hands lightly brushed her cheeks, causing heat to rush to them. She didn’t know where to look, so she cycled between both his eyes. His eyes quickly dropped to her lips, so quickly she almost didn’t catch it. Then as if realizing how close he was to her, he pulled away and stalked to their chair.

Dazed from what just happened, Hermione gave herself a few moments to collect herself before shaking her head and taking her place on the floor by Malfoy’s feet. The tip of his shoe lightly touched her knee before it moved away.

Once everyone was seated, including George, Sarah and Ron stood to face the group.

“We have an announcement we’d like to make, everyone,” Sarah said, twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands.

Ron slid his hand behind her waist and pulled her closer. Sarah looked up to smile at her husband, her face lighting up when he returned the smile. They could be so sweet together. Hermione only wished she could find love like that one day.

Sarah cleared her throat and turned to the group again. “I’m pregnant!” She announced abruptly.

Everyone stared in shock before leaping to their feet and crowding around the couple.

“Oh my goodness I’m so happy for you!” Hermione said, pulling Sarah into a tight hug.

“Way to go,” Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder. “Ready to tell me why you quit then? I assume they’re related.”

“You quit?” Ginny frowned.

Malfoy, who stood a few feet back from everyone, shrugged and responded. “Makes sense.”

Hermione turned toward him and quirked a brow. Like he could understand Ron’s reasoning for leaving his job when his wife just became pregnant. But of course he would, he doesn’t necessarily have to work for money. He could quit his job today if he wanted and never have to worry about being fed.

“Yes they are,” Ron answered Harry’s question. His voice made Hermione turn back from Malfoy. “Being an Auror can be quite dangerous, so I’m going to take a much easier job that doesn’t threaten my life every day.”

George stepped forward and placed his hand on Ron’s shoulder, pulling him closer to his side. “Little Ronikins is going to come work for me at the shop. Can you believe it?” He looked down at his little brother, a look of pride taking over his features. He had been working alone since Fred’s death and the success of the shop was finally getting too much for him to handle, but he would’ve never asked for help, so it had to have been Ron’s idea. George seemed pleased as punch about the idea though.

“That’s wonderful,” Hermione gushed, embracing Ron. Ron smiled when she pulled away, red splotching his cheeks.

“Thanks, ‘Mione.”

“Alright enough with the gushy stuff. Can we play already?” Malfoy interrupted. He really did know how to kill the mood. Hermione turned and frowned at him. He simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

Used to his antics, the group agreed and with one last congratulations, took their seats to begin the game.

“Now,” George said with a clap of his hands. “In celebration we have a special edition of the game we’ve been playing.”

A few people groaned, including Ginny who leaned forward in her seat, clearly disappointed in the turn of events. “What? We’re not playing the regular game? We were doing so well!”

George gave her a cheeky smile in response. “Well you might do even better than everyone else in this version, because it is an adult version.” Sarah and Ron exchanged a humored look, while Hermione tried to hide her horror. “And based on some of the questions, you’ve been a couple the longest, Gin, so there’s hope for you.”

Satisfied, Ginny clapped her hands and leaned back on the sofa.

The tip of the shoe was back against Hermione’s knee, this time tapping to gain her attention. When she didn’t respond to the tapping, she felt Malfoy shift in the chair, his leg pushed hard against her shoulder and his fingers brushed her shoulder.

“Damn. I wasn’t prepared for this,” he whispered close to her ear, his breath tickling her cheek.

She made an agreeable noise and nodded her head. She could practically hear him snickering when he leaned back in the chair, his leg still pressed hard against her. Normally she would move her arm, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead she sat quietly and tried to ignore the warmth radiating from his leg.

“Right, this time we’ll start with some of the easier stuff, but next month it’ll be a little more risqué.” George flipped through a few piles of parchment on the table in front of him. Once he found the page he was looking for, he set about casting the charms over everyone’s heads.

Hermione’s heart rate had doubled in the last few moments. What kind of questions was George planning on asking? Did she want to know some of these things about Malfoy? The answer to that was easy; no. Absolutely not. She couldn’t help her eyes flickering over to him every few seconds. Once she realized what she was doing, she closed them and took a deep breath. Get a hold of yourself, Granger she thought to herself.

“Okay, Sarah. First question. Which side of the bed does Ron sleep on?”

Sarah answered correctly and Ron’s hair glowed green. This didn’t seem to be too intense of a question— nothing too personal. Ginny answered the left and Harry’s hair glowed green. Once the question was posed to Hermione, she sat thinking. She had a 50/50, but whether she got the question right or wrong she’d still know what side of the bed Malfoy slept on, and she didn’t know if she even wanted to know that.

Just then a thought occurred to her that would solve her problem and perhaps be a more logical answer. “Well, seeing as how he isn’t actually married, I’m going to say he sleeps in the center of the bed. Since he doesn’t have to share.”

Her eyes flicked up to Malfoy’s head to see his hair glow red.

Ginny snorted out a laugh. “Now that’s surprising! Malfoy actually sharing something. Hilarious.”

“Piss off, Ginny,” Malfoy snapped back.

George had moved onto the next question when breath tickled her cheek again. “For the record, I sleep on the left side.” Malfoy whispered in her ear. Hermione cringed and jerked her head away. Of course he had to make sure she knew.

The rest of the questions George had chosen weren’t too intrusive after all, but most of them were related to living with the other person, which obviously Malfoy and Hermione were not doing. As predicted, Ginny and Harry were winning, but somehow Hermione and Malfoy found themselves in second place.

“Who was your spouse’s first kiss?” George asked while he wiggled his eyebrows.

Malfoy leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his fingers on his chin. “Hm. That’s a tough one. Granger wasn’t really drawing in gentlemen company at Hogwarts so I have to assume it was after.” He leaned forward even more to catch her gaze. All she could do was raise her brows and await his response. He smirked back at her and without turning his gaze from hers he answered, “I’m going to say it was Weasley. You two were sickly sweet to each other back in the day.”

Looking past his shoulder, Hermione caught the slow small smiles on Ginny, Harry and Ron’s faces. She directed her vision back to Malfoy just as she spotted the red reflection in his eyes.

Suddenly Malfoy’s face was gone and he was on his feet, his hands thrown in the air in disbelief. “Not Weasley? Who the fuck else would it have been?”

Ginny snorted and he whipped his head toward her. “Does the name Viktor Krum mean anything to you?”

Malfoy turned back to Hermione, mouth comically agape, eyes wide in surprise. “Krum? Viktor fucking Krum? Famous quidditch player? Catcher of the snitch in the 1994 World Cup? That Viktor Krum?” Hermione smiled in response and gave a small nod. “How the fuck did you manage that, Granger?”

Hermione shrugged with a touch of modesty. “He was fond of me.”

Malfoy plopped into the chair and ran his fingers through his hair and gave a soft chuckle under his breath. “He was fond of you. How incredibly humble of you.”

“It was quite cute really,” Ginny piped up from her seat on the sofa. “He would follow her around the school like a little pigmy puff and would just watch her read for hours. It was very interesting to see.”

Malfoy leaned back in his seat and shook his head against the chair cushion. “I don’t even know what to say. Well done, Granger, I guess?” Without looking at her, he pressed his leg back into her arm. She sniggered and directed her attention to George, his leg still firmly pressed against her arm.

George cackled into his cards for a moment before collecting himself and glancing back at his notes in his hand.

Several questions later, Malfoy finally composed himself enough to lean forward and whisper into Hermione’s ear. “I am quite impressed with your ability to bag Krum. However, these questions are becoming more and more difficult, I think we may need to meet again this coming week.”

Hermione nodded and tried to ignore the pressure she felt from his hand pressing between her shoulder blades. She turned her head slightly toward him, his lips accidentally touching the shell of her ear from her motion. She really tried to ignore the slight spike in his hot breath in her ear at the contact. “Sounds good,” she said with about as much confidence as she could muster.

Although she had turned to face the loveseat as Ron answered where Sarah kept her wand at night, she could feel Malfoy lingering for a moment too long before leaning back into the seat again.

As soon as George announced Harry and Ginny the winners and the time for their next meeting was decided, Hermione raced to the fireplace with a lame excuse about an early appointment.

She had barely poured a large glass of wine when an owl pecked politely at her window. She opened the window and took the slip of parchment from the owl’s leg.

Are we still married, Granger? Because I request the presence of my wife on Tuesday evening. Be ready by 7. I will come fetch you.

The letter wasn’t signed but there was only one person who could have sent it. Apparently he assumed she would be ready and willing to join him, because the owl didn’t wait for a response and flew away as soon as the scroll left it’s leg.

Hermione sighed, letting the parchment fall to her counter and swallowing half of her glass. It was very cryptic of him to not tell her where they were headed so that she could prepare or at least have an escape route.

It was for the game. He was very competitive. Only for the game. She repeated the words like a mantra as she got ready for bed. Nothing suspicious behind his invitation. He wanted to win and trained for excellence and expected her to as well.

She pulled her quilt over her head and snuggled into her pillows, sleep far from attainment. She let out another deep sigh, dragging it out to try and control her breathing.

It was for the game. Nothing suspicious. It was for the game. Nothing suspicious.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

…..

Tuesday evening

Hermione analyzed her hair in the mirror. It was behaving surprisingly well today— curls tumbled down her back, brown ringlets perfectly coiled, not a hair out of place. She grinned to her reflection and pinched her cheeks lightly, hoping to bring some life into her sleep deprived face.

Malfoy hadn’t given her much direction as to their destination so she had settled on a nice pair of tight black jeans and a lovely purple blouse. She looked relaxed enough for a casual place, but dressy enough that she wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb at a nice establishment. Not that she assumed Malfoy would take her to a fancy restaurant, because he never had before, but he had also never picked her up before. He was changing their usual status quo and she just wanted to be prepared.

The roar of a fire echoed from the other room, signaling his arrival. With one last approving glance in the mirror, she stepped into the living room to greet him.

He was dressed in casual enough clothes as well— if black slacks and a white button up was considered casual to anyone but Malfoy. He was sans jacket though and his sleeves were rolled up, a clear sign to Hermione that they weren’t heading anywhere fancy.

He was looking down and brushing soot from his shirt as he mumbled under his breath about soot repelling spells. Once his eyes lifted at her emergence, his monologue caught in his throat, his hands pausing in midair.

“Granger, you look- ” he sputtered.

“Well I wasn’t sure where you were planning on taking me,” she sputtered out fairly quickly at the same time he finished his sentence.

“- wonderful.”

“Oh.”

“I’m starting to rethink my previous plans and take you somewhere much nicer looking like you do.”

Hermione cheeks suddenly felt very hot. “Oh. Well that’s okay, Malfoy. I’m sure what you planned before is just fine.”

He nodded absently as he began to walk slowly toward her. He stopped a few feet in front of her and held out his hand. Curious, Hermione furrowed her brow, but took his offered hand anyway. Without another word to each other, she felt the familiar tug in her stomach and watched her living room spiral away.

With a soft pop, the two of them landed steadily on their feet. The first thing that hit her was the smell of fresh bread wafting in from the next room. After a deep inhale of the marvelously gluten scent, she looked around to take in the room around her.

It was a small sitting room, with only one dark sofa and armchair in the way of furniture. The rest of the room was covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves packed to the brim. And where there was space on the floor, there were books piled there as well. The fireplace took up the majority of the wall across the furnishings, a solid stone design with a hefty beam as the mantle, which held a single picture; a young blond boy with his mother.

Hermione turned to Malfoy, their hands still intwined. “Do you live here?”

Malfoy’s lips lifted on one side. “Not exclusively, but I do visit quite a lot. We’re on the East side of Sussex on the coast.”

“Some fancy Malfoy estate?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. A small cottage I purchased last summer. I’ve grown quite fond of smaller properties as of late.”

Hermione lifted a brow. “Really?”

“Yes. Come see the kitchen,” he said animatedly, pulling on her hand for her to follow.

The kitchen was just as quaint as the last room. It was large enough to accommodate four people at the small wood table in the center of the room, but that was it. The cabinets wrapped around the perimeter, all a light sage, rich wood counters complimenting them. The table was set for two, a small pot in the center, steam pouring from the lid.

“Malfoy, it’s-“ she struggled for the right word. If she could afford to hire a designer and have anything she wanted, this was exactly how she would want her home. Cozy and warm, but still stylish and minimalistic. “Great,” she finally settled on. Her voice didn’t sound all that convincing.

Malfoy nodded toward the table. “I hope you don’t mind beef stew. It’s about the only thing I know how to make.”

Hermione turned from the kitchen to the man at her side. “You cooked?” She was sure she looked completely unattractive with her mouth hanging open.

Malfoy shuffled his feet and looked at her sheepishly from the corner of his eye. “Like I said it’s the only thing I know how to make, so it was just the one thing.”

“What about the bread?” She was certain it was bread she was smelling from the oven.

“Ah shit,” he raced to the oven and with a flick of his wand, directed the pan to float to the table. “I almost forgot about the rolls. Thank fuck I didn’t burn them.”

“You made rolls?!”

“Close your mouth, Granger. It’s highly unattractive. As is your obvious shock and amazement. I can do normal things.”

Hermione snorted and took a spot at the table. “Sure.”

Suddenly hot breath tickled her ear sending a shiver down her spine.

“It’s not nice to underestimate your husband, Hermione,” he whispered in her ear.

Just as quickly he was up and around the table, taking his spot across from her. She took a deep breath, held it for 5, and released it, trying to regain some of her composure. Malfoy on the other hand was filling his bowl, oblivious to her inner struggle.

Once Hermione sorted herself out, the two of them had a very compatible meal together, leaning more to the chummy side of things. They spoke about anything and everything save for the questions for George’s game. Malfoy stated very clearly that they were to ‘deal with that rubbish after he had something to eat’ and Hermione full heartedly agreed, knowing full well the questions they were about to ask each other.

After the meal they sat on short sofa— so short that if Hermione were to unwind her foot from under herself, her leg would most definitely touch him even though they sat on opposite ends of the couch. They had a pile of compiled questions between them, each choosing a question at random and tossing the parchment on the floor when they were finished.

Malfoy also seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the depth of the questions as he started with questions that were easy for her to digest. The last few had been much more telling, however and neither of them recovered in time before the next question was asked. There was an unspoken agreement to get through the questions as quickly as possible, with hardly any follow up questions, so they could just be done with it.

“What’s in your nightstand drawer?” Malfoy asked quickly, cringing slightly to himself as he braced for the answer.

“Three books I haven’t gotten around to reading yet and a red sleep mask.”

Malfoy’s eyes moved from the parchment to her face painfully slow. “Granger,” he drawled out. “That has to be the most dull answer I have ever heard.”

Hermione snatched a question from the pile, swatting at his in the process. “You wanted to know the answer and there it is. Sorry for not having a titillating enough answer for you.”

Malfoy snorted and let his asked question drift to the floor beside the sofa. “Get on with it then.”

“What-,” she cut herself short as she fully read the question to herself. Heat immediately rushed to her cheeks and she quickly started to grab another question from the pile. A warm hand grabbed her wrist.

“Oh no you don’t. With a response like that I have to hear this question now.”

Hermione glanced up to find Malfoy’s face glowing with amusement. He raised his brows and gave a small nod of encouragement. Somehow her already hot cheeks got even hotter. She lowered her eyes back to the paper- there was no way she was looking him in the face when she asked the question.

“What’s your favorite position?” The question came out in a rush.

When he didn’t respond, she risked a quick look to his face. He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed by the question, he just looked up at the ceiling in thought, while she sat sweating from awkwardness.

Finally he chuckled lightly under his breath. “Probably with the woman right in my lap.”

Hermione blinked and cleared her throat. “Right. Well alright, next question.”

Malfoy leaned forward and slowly dragged the new parchment she had grabbed from her fingers. “Tsk tsk, dear Granger. That’s not how this works.” Somewhere between this question and the last, he happened to gain much more confidence than she thought possible. Was it the question itself? She painfully hoped that weren’t true. 

Her face got even more hot- surely she had to be resembling a lobster more than a human now. She mumbled so quickly under her breath, she was surprised he heard her make a noise at all.

“Come again?”

“From-behind-most-times-can-we-move-on-now-please?” She said all in one breath.

Laughter exploded from the other side of the couch. “You’d think you had never had sex before.” He was still laughing out loud at her response. “But yes, we can move on.”

“Thank Merlin.”

For the most part, that was the most salacious question they had to ask each other. Unfortunately, the other questions gave her more knowledge about Malfoy’s private life. She know knew that he wore boxer briefs and that on hot summer nights he likes to sleep in the nude with only a sheet. He also told her that he enjoys showers as hot as they will go and horribly that he will fantasize under the water every so often.

Even more unfortunately she had to give up some information on her own. He knew now that she slept in a silk sleep set with skinny straps and shorts and that she enjoyed nighttime baths with the windows open. She even had to let loose that she enjoys to cuddle at length after sex.

Malfoy flew through every question with an efficiency that she envied, completely unaffected. She, on the other hand, was getting far too uncomfortable sitting so close to him. She knew far too much intimate information about him—information that she didn’t think she ever wanted to know, but now found herself wanting to know more.

In the last few months of playing this game with him, Hermione had learned that Malfoy was not as much of a pain in the arse as she had originally thought. Once she got passed his insistent teasing, he could be quite kind and witty.

What she had a problem with though, was that she was beginning to see him in a whole other light. A light she never thought she’d see Draco Malfoy in and possibly never wanted to see him in. She began to notice the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and how his fingers twirled around the skinny parchment pieces while he thought. How his fingers tapped lightly on his knee while he waited for her answer. How the muscles in his arm tensed when he was embarrassed or hesitated to ask a question. How his eyes glittered with mirth when she said something humorous. How his lips parted when she laid out another fact about her “personal” life.

She needed to get a hold of herself or she would ruin everything.

She wiggled in her seat again, unable to get comfortable with the constant reminder of the way his answers were effecting her residing between her legs. It was just a game, she reminded herself. There was no reason to get so worked up.

While arguing with herself, she didn’t noticed the pale hand reach forward and grab her knee. The hand continued to untangle her legs and pulled them across his lap. “Granger, if your knees are bothering you that much, you could’ve just stretched out your legs. I don’t mind.” He hadn’t looked up from his pile of questions, but placed his free hand on her shins.

She couldn’t remember what his question was. How could she when his fingers danced lightly across her jean cladded legs. She forced out an automatic answer, eyes glued to his hand.

“Granger,” he said, fingers pausing on her leg, gripping her knee. “If you’re too tired to continue, we can stop.”

Before she could stop herself, she sputtered, “No, don’t stop.” She cringed at her outburst and cleared her thoughts. “I… I mean we don’t have to stop. I’m fine. Go ahead.”

He lifted a brow at her, but thought better of it as he shook his head and glanced at a new question. “Oh here we go. Where is the most memorable place you had sex?”

His hand had started it’s movements again so she took a moment to register the question. Once it repeated through her head, she almost choked on her saliva. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Most memorable place you-“

“I heard the question, Malfoy,” she snapped. “Just trying to process it.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Well I’ll go first then while you process.” His hand drifted from her ankle to her shin, fingers lightly pressing into the denim. “I once did it,” —fingers now reaching the knee— “, on a bridge at the Manor.” His fingers were know past her knee and drifting further up her thigh. She sucked in a breath, holding it, waiting. Once the tip of his index finger reached just below her hip, it pivoted and drifted back down her leg.

She released her breath and drifted her eyes to his face. He was watching her very carefully, eyes searching her face for a reaction. Finally she cleared her throat and responded, “I did it once in a library.”

Malfoy threw his head back and howled with laughter, his head bouncing off the back of the sofa. “Of course you did, Granger. That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

Her cheeks heated up and she gave him a small smile. “Yes, well it was a private library so I’m not sure how steamy that really is.”

His fingers now began to flit up her leg again, much quicker now, reaching the spot below her hip again in record time. “I think it’s plenty steamy, Granger,” he replied, his voice low.

Hermione shifted in her seat, unsure of how to respond to that. After a few silent moments, she made a show of yawning and clambering to her feet. “Well I best be getting home soon. I have a meeting in the morning and it’s- blimey it’s late.” After glancing at her watch, she practically jumped from the sofa, not having realized she had been there for almost five hours and she really did have an early meeting.

“Right. Well it’s been… enlightening, as always, Granger. Let’s say we meet here again next week? Same time?”

Hermione nodded in agreement, already grabbing a fistful of Floo powder from the mantle and climbing inside. “Yep, well see you later, Malfoy.”

As the room around her swirled away, she saw a look of… disappointment on his face? Couldn’t be. He barely tolerated her presence and simply wanted her around to win against her friends.

Once she had stumbled back into her living room, despite having that early meeting tomorrow, she stalked into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of wine. It was going to be a long night.

…..

Next week:

Hermione steadied her feet as she stepped out of the fireplace. After a quick look around, she realized that she had beaten Malfoy to the cottage. Not sure how long she had to wait, she started to peruse through the bookshelves in the sitting room. The books ranged from potion books, old historical tomes, to even muggle classics. Hermione grabbed a book at random and took a seat on the sofa while she waited.

Fifteen minutes later there was a soft pop from the other room, followed by some irritated grumbling. Malfoy appeared in the doorway, hair falling onto his forehead, eyes looking frantic. Once he noticed her on the couch, his shoulders visibly relaxed and he narrowed his eyes.

“Granger,” he grunted, “I was supposed to pick you up.”

Hermione closed her book and placed it beside her. “You just said we were to meet here again. You didn’t say anything about you picking me up.”

“It was implied!” He snapped. He sighed and leaned heavily against the doorway. “You make my life very stressful.”

Hermione snorted and went back to her book. “You brought the stress on yourself, I’m not sure why I’m the cause.”

Malfoy ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes with a sigh. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded remotely close to her not understanding and turned into the kitchen.

Pots and pans clanged from the other room. Water ran on and off and several curse words flowed from the room. Only after a massive bang sounded, causing Hermione to jump in her seat, did she question what he was doing.

Trying to find something for dinner, but it doesn’t seem to be working. I’m ordering something, I’ll be back.” Without another word he Disapparated, silence falling over the cottage. He was in such an odd mood tonight.

Hermione was setting the table when he appeared again, this time with two paper bags. The smell of fried food drifted from the bag making her mouth water.

“I hope you don’t mind pub food. It was really all I could find on such short notice,” he said, setting the bags on the table and pulling boxes from within.

“Fine by me. I’ve been craving some lately actually.” She filled her plate with chips and fried chicken. She turned to smile at him. “Great minds think alike I guess.”

His response was an agreeable grunt.

After what felt like hours of eating in silence, Hermione finally gave in. “Did something happen today, Malfoy?”

He continued to eat, but moved his eyes up to her face. Since his mouth was full all he could do was raise a questioning brow.

“You just seem a little... off today is all,” she said with a shrug.

Swallowing his food, he took a quick sip of water and lowered his fork to the table. “I’m just a little distracted is all. It’s been a long day.”

Hermione nodded as she stood and carried her empty plate to the sink. Without house elves to clean for him, she had to wonder if Malfoy washed his own dishes. It was an absurd thought— Malfoy had to have enough knowledge to at least wash his own dishes. She turned back to face him and saw now the dark circles under his eyes and the way he was twirling his fork around his plate, simply pushing around the food before him. Clearly he was in no mood to practice for the next game night— they would have to just reschedule.

She cleared her throat and made her way to the door, walking behind his chair as she did so. “Well, I think it might be best if I go home then. You’re obviously tired and in no mood to go over questions. We can resc-“

Without turning around, Malfoy had shot his hand behind himself to grab ahold of her wrist. Still staring at his plate he muttered quietly, “No, please stay. I need some company after my partially shitty day.”

Hermione placed her hand over the one attached to her wrist. She patted it twice and then squeezed tightly. “Okay, I’ll stay. Can we go to the living room though? These chairs are hurting my bum.”

Malfoy huffed out a laugh and stood from his chair, towering over her suddenly. “Sure thing, wife.” He looked down at her, the smile fading from his lips, his eyes suddenly intensely serious, the grey in them darkening until they were almost black.

She looked down at her feet, realizing how close they really were— the tips of their shoes pressed together. She glanced back up, eyes suddenly locked back to his, unable to look away. He lifted the hand not still attached to her wrist and pushed a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers sliding down the back of her ear and lingering on the lobe. She drew in a shaky breath and just watched, her body frozen. His fingertips left her ear and drifted across her jaw with a barely there touch. When he got to her chin, he paused, his thumb coming up and touching her bottom lip lightly— stroking back and forth, just feeling the skin there. Her breathing was coming out much quicker now and there was no doubt that he didn’t feel that as she was practically panting onto his thumb.

She blinked twice and her head cleared, the fog lifting— not by much, but enough for her to gain some of her composure and form words. “Do-,” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again, “Do you have anything to drink?” If this was the way their evening intended to go then she most definitely needed some alcohol in her system.

“Yes,” he whispered in response. His fingers didn’t stop though and he didn’t step away. He continued to rub his thumb across her lips, now moving to her top lip.

“I think I’d like some,” she breathed against his thumb.

“Okay,” he said, still not pausing. His eyes were glued to her lips, just as hers were glued to his face, both anticipating what the other might do. Finally he tapped his thumb twice to her lips and stepped back. His eyes moved up to hers and without breaking contact, grabbed his wand from his back pocket and twirled it in the air.

Behind him, two glasses flew from the cabinet, a bottle from above the refrigerator. They met in the center of the room, the bottle filled both glasses and returned to it’s home above the fridge. The glasses moved quick, wine sloshing up the sides, barely staying in the glasses. Once their hands were occupied with their drinks did they finally move to the other room.

Instead of the spots they took on the couch last week, Malfoy opted for the chair while Hermione stretched her legs across the sofa, her back pressed against the arm, facing Malfoy.

“Right, let’s get started,” she said with mock enthusiasm. She grabbed a parchment from the pile on the table and began to read. “What is your favorite thing your spouse wears? Oh that’s tough.”

Malfoy snorted, his attention directed to the fire. “Easy.”

She moved her head up to glance at him, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “It is?”

He moved his eyes to her face quickly before moving them back to the fire. “Yes. Your black dress with the V in the front and back.”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “How could you possibly remember that? I haven’t worn that in two years.”

Malfoy took a sip of his wine and rested the glass on the arm of the chair. “Because it was the best thing you’ve worn. You should wear it more. Your turn.” Typical Malfoy— just spewing out facts that caused her to reel and then demand she move on.

“Uh,” she thought out loud. It was a hard question to answer. He wore a lot of black slacks and button-ups, along with his Auror uniform. While he did look good in those, she wouldn’t necessarily call it her favorite.

He turned toward her, a smirk on his lips. “Having a hard time coming up with something, Granger?”

She waved her hands at him, staring at the corner of the mantle. “Shh, I’m thinking.” She went through all the moments they had seen each other throughout the years. They had been to balls,— dress robes were nice but not her favorite—, dinners— still the typical slacks and button-up, but accompanied with a jacket—, even the beach— while he did look great in his swim trunks, again still not her favorite. When the answer suddenly came to her, her cheeks flared with heat and she averted her eyes to the floor.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Malfoy sit up in his chair and lean forward. “Oh you have an answer. This ought to be good.” She shook her head quickly. “Oh come on, Granger. If you want to win, you have to be honest.”

You are a Gryffindor, she said quickly to herself.

“Your pajamas,” the words rushed out at once.

“My… my pajamas?” He asked with a chuckle. “Why my pajamas?”

“Not your fancy silk ones that I’m sure you wear regularly,” she said, her face getting even hotter. “But the flannel ones with just a white t-shirt. You wore it last year when we all went to Greece.”

When he didn’t reply, she looked up to find his chin in his hand looking at her intently. “I remember. Why those though? Out of all the fancy robes I’ve worn.”

She shifted her eyes to the fire, still unable to meet his gaze while she spoke. “You just looked so… normal. And when you came down to the kitchen in the morning, your hair was all tousled and you had sleep patterns on your face. It was very…,” -she moved her hand around trying to think of the right word-, “endearing.” She shrugged her shoulders quickly.

“That’s quite the assessment, Granger.”

She grabbed another paper and launched it toward him. “Can we move on please?”

He chuckled and opened the parchment. “Fine. What is something your partner does that turns you on?”

Hermione whipped her head to stare at him. “There is no way George is going to ask that!”

Malfoy lifted his shoulders. “He might. He said the questions were going to be more risqué next time.”

Hermione turned her mouth down and crossed her arms across her chest. “I am not answering that.”

Malfoy looked up and frowned back at her. “Don’t be a sour puss. Okay let’s see here.” He tapped his finger to his lips and looked up at the ceiling like he had to think hard on his answer.

“Don’t think too hard, don’t want you bursting a blood vessel,” she spat.

“Oh har har,” he mocked. “Let’s see. Oh yes. You do this thing when you’re thinking. You bite your lip and twirl one of your curls around your finger. You’re so focused on what you’re doing, you don’t even notice you’re doing it half the time. There!” He pointed at her from across the room. “You’re doing it right now.”

She stopped moving her finger and whipped it from her hair as she removed her lip from between her teeth and scowled at him. “Was not.”

He nodded his head quickly. “Was to. Okay you’re turn!” He wiggled in his seat, giddy for her answer.

She rolled her eyes and tucked her hand back into her arms, to keep it from twirling into her hair. “Fine, if you really must know, you have a really great smile and laugh when you think something is really funny and it catches you off guard, so there,” she said the whole thing in one breath in straight monotone.

Malfoy threw his head back and laughed, smiling that smile that she just told him about. “You’d think someone had a wand to your head. It’s okay to be honest, Granger. Especially with your husband.” He wiggled his brows as if he really were her husband.

She grabbed a few papers from the pile and tossed them at his head. “Oh whatever, you git.”

Malfoy’s day seemed to have turned around and he was in a much lighter mood than he had been when he first arrived. After another hour of questions— personal, but not too intense— Hermione was fighting to keep her eyes open and she could tell that Malfoy was on the verge of sleep too.

“Malfoy?”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s time to call it a night, before either one of us falls asleep here,” she said with an air of authority, but not bothering to move from her incredibly comfortable position on the couch.

“My sofa not good enough for you?” He grumbled, his head leaned back and eyes closed.

“It’s fine, just not as comfortable as my bed.”

He grunted in response.

“I’m leaving now.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“No one’s stopping you.”

Hermione snorted. “The sofa seems to be. Okay here I go.” She still laid in her spot on the couch.

“Up you go, Granger,” he said, his eyes still closed.

“Okay this is ridiculous,” she huffed. With her last ounce of energy, she hoisted herself off the cushions and made her way to the fireplace, grabbing her bag from the hook by the kitchen on her way. “Okay, I am truly leaving now.”

He raised his arm and flapped his hand flippantly. “Be gone with you, Granger.” He looked like he had no intention of leaving himself, the only thing that moved on his person was his arm, which he had now lowered back to the chair.

Hermione laughed and passed his chair on her way to the fireplace. “I’m going, I’m going.”

Before she fully passed his chair, he had reached out and grabbed her wrist for the second time that evening. Confused, she looked down to see his grey eyes staring up at her.

“Thank you for staying,” he said quietly.

“Sure thing,” she croaked.

They stared at each other for a few more moments before he squeezed her wrist and released it. “Best be off then, Granger.”

She nodded and creeped her way to the fireplace. Definitely not giving him time to change her mind— or for her to change her own mind. She stepped over the hearth and before she threw the powder down around her feet, she spoke to the blond in the chair, “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

She didn’t see much before the room spun around her, but she could swear she heard him say, “Goodnight, Hermione.”

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Two weeks later:

Hermione spun into George’s living room, landing lightly on her feet. She was surprised to see that Malfoy had beat her there, as she was fifteen minutes early. He and Harry were in a heated discussion in the corner by the kitchen door. When they heard her arrive, they both turned and looked at her quickly before turning back to their conversation.

Hermione lowered the hand she had waved to them, her greeting going unnoticed. Something was up with the two of them and they obviously didn’t want to be disturbed. She decided to leave them to it and made her way to the kitchen.

“And who the fuck are you to tell me what to do, Potter?” Malfoy spatted angrily as she walked passed them.

“You know very well, Malfoy. If I catch you doing that again-“

The door closed softly behind her as she stepped into the kitchen. Ginny and George sat quietly at the table, neither one speaking. Ginny was staring at the door, eyes narrowed in concentration while George stared at the wall, eyes closed.

“What’s going on with them?” Hermione asked, jerking her thumb in the direction of the door.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” George said, eyes still shut.

“Malfoy did something on a mission that jeopardized the whole unit I guess,” Ginny said, her gaze still on the door as Hermione took the seat across from her. “He’s been in a piss-poor mood lately apparently. Harry’s come home just about every day with a new complaint about him.” She shifted her eyes from the door to Hermione’s face. “Any idea what’s got his knickers in a twist?”

“Me? How should I know?”

Ginny scoffed. “You see him more than the rest of us. Seeing as you’re fake married and all.”

Hermione laughed. “Why does that matter? We’re fake married for the sake of this game. That’s all.”

Ginny leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Then why have you been seeing each other once a week?”

“It’s once every two weeks,” —Ginny rolled her eyes— “besides we get together to prepare for game night. That’s all.”

“Yeah okay,” Ginny said sarcastically.

George’s eyes suddenly opened and glanced at the girls at the table. “They’ve finished. Let’s hope it doesn’t effect the game tonight.”

Unfortunately it did effect the game. Not only were Malfoy and Harry staring daggers at each other all night, but their playful banter started to turn personal. It made for a very stressful evening.

Hermione had taken the chair this week, so she was much more aware of Malfoy’s tense body language from behind him. When Harry answered a question correctly, Malfoy would scoff and cross his arms, unintentionally knocking into Hermione’s legs in the process. She could only take so much of the tense atmosphere before she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Malfoy, is everything alright?”

He turned his head slightly toward her and harshly whispered back, “Just peachy, Granger.” He turned his attention back toward George and ignored her.

Their score wasn’t much better. He was giving half-assed answers that she knew he knew the correct responses to. When she answered a question correctly, he didn’t congratulate her like he usually did, he just continued to stare straight ahead. She was surprised with how much she missed the casual contact between them during the previous meetings.

Harry couldn’t seem to take his eyes off him and stared angrily at the blond all evening. The others shared confused looks, but could only give each other shrugged responses. Whatever was going on between them was something only they knew.

Once Ginny and Harry were declared the winners, Malfoy stood up, mumbled “who would have fucking guessed,” and stalked out the front door. Everyone sat in a silence that followed the slam of the door and the crack of his Disapparation.

Ginny immediately turned and smacked her husband on the arm. “What’s the matter with you two?”

“It’s just work stuff,” Harry mumbled, rubbing the spot where she hit him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If it was just work stuff you wouldn’t have ruined our evening over it.” She smacked him again. “What happened?”

Harry glared at her. “I can’t talk about it, Ginny. It’s confidential.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “But next time you have a work thing, you will not ruin all of our evenings over it. Got it?”

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Fine. Can we go home now?”

Everyone made their way home, except for Hermione. She sat on the armchair contemplating her next move. Rationally she should go home. She should go home and let this blow over and meet with everyone next month with a fresh start. But the annoying voice in the back of her head was telling her to go elsewhere. She shouldn’t and it was a long shot he’d even be there, but the voice just wouldn’t shut up.

Ignoring the rational part of her brain, she threw powder into the fireplace and was whisked away to the coast of Eastern Sussex.

She tumbled into a room in ruin. Cushions were thrown from the sofa, books were strewn across the room. The coffee table had been flipped over, and a lamp had been thrown against the wall, the pieces littering the floor. The only thing not out of place was the man seated in the chair, a glass of whisky in his hand and a scowl across his features.

He stared at her, not hint of surprise at seeing her on his face. He took a deep gulp of his drink, eyes never leaving hers.

“Malfoy, what in Merlin’s name is going on?”

“Potter didn’t tell you all then?” He questioned, taking another sip.

Before she answered him, Hermione waved her wand, items flying back to their rightful place. Once the couch was back in working order, she took a seat on the cushion closest to him, scooting to the very edge of it.

“What happened?”

He continued to glower into his glass, eyes now completely ignoring her.

“Draco,” she said softly. His eyes whipped to hers. “What happened?”

He ground his teeth and looked around the room. After spending so much time with him lately, she could tell he was trying to contain his anger. A few moments of silence passed before he sighed and answered her.

“Potter got the promotion.”

“Did he? He didn’t mention anything.” She was surprised her best friend wouldn’t share something as important as a job promotion he had been working toward.

“Of course he did. Saint Potter always getting what he wants.”

Hermione nodded slowly, trying not to judge his anger. She understood now.

“You were up for the promotion too.” It wasn’t a question.

He jerked his head and huffed fiercely. “I’ve worked longer hours, went on more missions, made more of an effort but it wasn’t enough.”

She reached forward and placed her hand on his arm, her thumb brushing lightly. “Oh, Draco, I’m so sorry.”

He closed his eyes. “Apparently my history prevents me from climbing higher in the program.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open. She had thought the Ministry was better than that. “They can’t hold that against you! You were a boy and you had no choice.”

“Well not everyone sees it that way. They said I’d never aspire to much and should be grateful they let me into the program at all.”

“Those bastards. I’m going to-“ Before she realized she was up out of her seat, Malfoy grabbed her wrist and tugged her back down to her cushion.

“While I appreciate the gesture, Granger, please don’t.”

She stewed quietly for a moment. The Ministry they were working so hard to change, to become more accepting of all types of people, was just as prejudiced as before. Only this time it wasn’t the purebloods keeping out the muggle-borns, it was the people who had won the war—those who had fought to make the world a better place— that were acting unfair.

She thought back to the evening at George’s flat. While Malfoy’s attitude made sense, the argument between him and Harry didn’t.

“Why was Harry mad at you then if he got the promotion?” She asked finally.

Malfoy placed his glass on the arm of his chair and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “We were on a mission today. I was pissed that he had gotten the promotion over me so I refused to follow his orders. I placed the whole team in danger and almost got us all killed. It was petty of me, but I just couldn’t get the anger out of my system.”

Hermione sighed and reached for his arm again. “I understand why you would be upset, Malfoy. What the department did was shitty and you deserve to be pissed. But defying a superiors orders like that, especially while on a mission is completely irresponsible.”

He snatched his arm from her gasp and turned his head toward her. “You think I don’t know that?” He snapped. Suddenly he was on his feet, towering over her. “I’m angry, Hermione. Not just upset, but blood boiling angry. I worked hard to get where I am. I’ve worked hard to restore the Malfoy name and gain people’s trust again. To be told that none of that matters and it never will hurts. It’s destroying me and no one understands.”

Hermione was on her feet too, stalking up to him. “You think I don’t understand? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be told I’m not enough? That no matter how good my grades are, no matter how hard I work, I will never be seen as a functioning member of society. Not even that— that I’m less than dirt. You think I don’t understand?”

“Yes, please tell me how Golden Girl Hermione Granger doesn’t understand. Tell me how the person who could just walk into any department, any business, and ask for a job doesn’t understand. They’d hand it to you on a silver platter. You could bloody well ask for Minister of Magic and they’d fucking hand it to you!”

“And you know why? Because I fought to make this a better world. For people like me, I fought to get where I am!”

Malfoy scoffed and stepped closer to her, head bent down to level with her. “And what have I been doing? Just sitting in a corner shooting Jelly-Legs jinxes at people walking by? Just sitting at my desk watching everyone else go out and do their jobs? I’ve worked my bloody arse off!”

“Then work harder!” Hermione yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. She took a steadying breath and looked up at him. “Just don’t give up. I had to keep working hard for years before I was seen as anything remotely ‘Golden’. Just keep at it.”

Malfoy took a final look at her and sank back into his chair. He stared at her shoes. “I’d just like to be appreciated for all the work I’ve done.” He looked back up at her. “You know?”

Hermione sat in front of him on the edge of the coffee table. “I appreciate what you do. And I know Harry does too. When you’re not screaming at each other,” she added.

He chuckled and without looking up, grabbed her hand. “You’re a good wife.”

A smirk spread on her lips. “I know. How about some food?”

Malfoy grunted and let her pull him into the kitchen. The two of them spent an embarrassingly long time cooking eggs and toast, the simplest meal they could think of. After eating quickly, they made their way back into the living room. They settled onto the sofa and instead of their usual questions, they played an intense game of Exploding Snap. It was surprisingly the perfect stress reliever they needed.

Malfoy had won his fifth game in a row and was gloating excessively. Hermione chuckled as he danced around the room, fighting the urge to yawn. He saw her struggle and pulled her up from the cushions.

“Alright we don’t want to be falling asleep on the furniture again. You best be off, Granger.”

Unable to fight the yawn anymore, she nodded through it. “You’re right.” She picked up her bag from the floor and made her way to the fireplace.

Malfoy followed her the short route. “Want to meet again next week?”

She turned to face him, unable to stop the smile from forming. “Sure. Same time as before?”

He nodded and pointed a finger at her. “But wait at your place so I can pick you up and not think you’d forgotten.”

Her smile grew. “Deal. Goodnight, Malfoy.”

A hand gripped her upper arm and spun her back around. She moved questioning eyes to his face. His jovial attitude had shifted and he was standing much closer to her than she realized. Her eyes flitted to his lips swiftly. She caught herself and moved them back to his own. Her arm burned with the contact of his hand.

“Thanks for coming, Granger.”

“Sure thing,” she grinned softly. “That’s what fake wives are for.”

His other hand whipped out and gripped her other arm. “I mean it. Thank you.”

She looked into his eyes and nodded. “Of course,” she said quietly.

Malfoy leaned closer to her, eyes still searching hers. Her heart picked up it’s pace as he leaned closer and closer to her. Her feet shifted, unsure if this was what she wanted, or if this was how she wanted it to happen. Just before she thought his lips were about to meet hers, he changed course and pressed his lips firmly to her cheek, lingering for a moment.

She closed her eyes and basked in the feeling of his soft lips pressing into her cheek. She didn’t have much more time to think before the pressure was gone and there was hot breath hitting her face. Her eyes fluttered open to see Malfoy directing his dark eyes into hers. She took a deep breath to prepare herself, but just as she was beginning to accept the idea of kissing him, his hands removed themselves from her arms and he had taken a step back.

He reached past her, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire. Hermione still didn’t move as the flames heated her back.

“Goodnight, Hermione,” he said, dismissing her as he turned toward the back hallway.

“Goodnight, Draco,” she responded, taking a large step backward into the flames.

Once she was in the safety of her own living room, she made her way to the front door, whipping it open and stepping out into the cool night air. Looking up into a cloudless sky, she finally breathed fresh calming air.

One thing was made sure that night, Draco Malfoy would be the death of her.

.....

Next Month:

Hermione landed on the cobblestone street and glanced at the building in front of her. Disguised as a broken down factory, The Phoenix House— a new wizarding bar in central London— was shaking with the beat of the music within.

After the stress and hostility of the previous meeting, George had demanded they all take a month off and meet for drinks instead. The group was all for a change of scenery, especially if it meant an evening of alcohol and dancing.

She stepped carefully forward, cautious as to not get her heel caught in the cracks on the road. She smoothed down her black skirt and lifted a hand to tame her hair a touch. She wasn’t sure why she was feeling so nervous— she was just meeting her friends. The same friends she had been meeting every month for the past few months. And her most recently acquainted friend (is that what they were?) she had met with every week for the past month.

She had waited every Tuesday in her flat for Malfoy to pick her up at exactly 7 o’clock. What had started as a simple meeting to review questions for George’s game had quickly turned to multiple evenings spent over dinner, wine and various strategy games. She learned that Malfoy’s favorite was Wizards Chess, but after introducing him to the muggle game Risk, she could see his inclination wavering.

A couple of small pops echoed around her as Ginny and Harry appeared.

“Alright, Hermione?”

“Hi, Harry. Ginny.” She smiled and embraced her friends. Even though it had only been a few weeks since she had last seen them, she still missed them just the same.

“This ought to be fun tonight!” Ginny was practically bouncing on her toes as they approached the bar.

“Hopefully,” Hermione mumbled. “You know how I am about crowds.”

Harry threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, causing her to stumble slightly. “Come on it’ll be fun! Try to put up with it all for at least an hour.”

She turned giving Harry a small nod. “One hour.”

“Let’s get this party started!” Ginny yelled, rushing through the door.

Harry and Hermione chuckled, following closely behind.

Once they found the rest of the group and sorted out a table, a few of the men offered to grab everyone drinks. Hermione was about to get up to join them when hot breath tickled her ear, sending sparks down her back.

“Would my wife like a drink?” The voice whispered. All she could do was nod in response. “And what would my wife like to drink?” More breath hit her neck, which she was sure was sprouting red splotches.

“Um… I’ll uh—,” her voice cracked. She thought about ordering a Butter Beer to keep her wits about her, but the thought of being sober while in a bar around Malfoy was a dangerous game— one that she was sure to lose. Before she could change her mind she cleared her throat and tried again. “Glass of scotch please.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

Warmth spread up her neck to her cheeks.

Once he was headed to the bar, Hermione finally looked up to find Ginny and Sarah grinning at her.

“What?”

“Oh nothing,” Ginny smirked. “Just watching you get all hot and bothered over Malfoy.”

Hermione sputtered out a nonsensical response. “I am not getting all hot and bothered over him.”

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” Ginny leaned across the table to give her a level look, “but it’s glaringly obvious.”

“It is not!”

“So you are getting all hot and bothered over him!” Ginny pointed at her.

“Of course not! I need the loo.” Before either girl could respond, Hermione was up, out of her seat and across the room in record time. Hoping no one followed her, she shut the door and leaned against it.

Was she really that obvious in her sudden attraction to Malfoy? Sure they were getting along and meeting more often, but it obviously didn’t mean anything. Right?

She banged her head against the door behind her.

Who was she kidding, of course it was obvious. Her face warmed like it was on fire when he was near and lately she couldn’t seem to keep her bloody hands to herself— always touching his arm when he made her laugh or grabbing his knee when she had something exciting to share with him. Hell, last week she had even squeezed his hand when she left his cottage. She was absolutely smitten by the git. And worse, everyone seemed to know about it.

After a few calming breaths and the straightening of her clothes, she rejoined the group in the dark corner. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw her drink at her seat and Malfoy absent from his. With her drink just about empty and her breathing normal, she had just started a conversation with Sarah about baby names when another voice butted in.

“I’ve always been partial to the name Scorpius.”

Hermione choked on her drink, just catching it in a napkin before she spit it down the front of her blouse. “Scorpius? Merlin, Malfoy, that’s a terrible name.”

He glared at her. “Is not.”

“It’s horrendous.”

“It’s celestial.”

“It’s awful.”

He scoffed and threw back his drink. “I have to keep up tradition somehow.”

Hermione chuckled. “There’s so many other star related names you could use. If you name your future child Scorpius, he’ll think you hate him.”

Ron guffawed across the table.

“Fuck off, Weasley. Fine what would you suggest to keep the theme, wife?” Malfoy put his empty glass down and leaned toward her.

“Well there’s the obvious ones like Leo or maybe even Hercules.” Malfoy snorted. She shot him a look, but continued on. “I always thought Lyra would be nice or maybe even Cassiopeia.”

Now Ginny laughed. “Gods, that’s about as bad as Scorpius. You’d be setting that poor child up for failure.”

“You could call her Cassie!” Hermione argued back.

“Still not the best,” Ginny countered.

Malfoy shrugged and stood from his seat. “I like it,” he said simply and walked toward the bar.

Ginny was giggling again. “Oh well if your fake husband likes it then I guess it all works out.”

Hermione turned from watching Malfoy’s retreating form to face her friend. “Piss off, Gin.”

“Already there,” the redhead replied, causing Harry to shoot his drink out his nose.

Although she had promised to stay for an hour, Hermione was missing her bed. And her books. And her cat. She wanted to go home, soak in a bath and read until she passed out. Perhaps it was the alcohol making her feel this way. She felt more relaxed than she had in a long time. Her job had been increasingly more stressful and her anxious thoughts about Malfoy weren’t helping much either.

While she figured she’d have to force herself to stay rooted in her seat, she found she was enjoying herself much more than she thought she would. Maybe a night out wasn’t the worst idea George had ever had.

Yet.

She had just finished her fourth drink when a pale hand came into her line of sight.

“Fancy a dance, Granger?”

The amber liquid coursing through her veins gave her the courage to accept his hand without hesitation. He pulled her to the dance floor, and while it was an upbeat song, he put his arms around her like they were about perform the waltz from fourth year.

Her heart rate spiked when his hand came around her waist and stopped to rest on her lower back. He brought his other hand into hers and held it to the side. She gave him a questioning look about their position before he started to move.

This was much different than a waltz.

He moved smoothly across the floor, guiding her effortlessly. Their feet moved swiftly, somehow not stepping on each other in their drunken state. He drifted them around in time with the quick music, never missing a beat. When he suddenly spun her away from his body and pulled her back, she couldn’t help but throw her head back and laugh. Her eyes met his grey ones, glittering with glee.

They spun together around the space, hardly breaking eye contact, laughing at the joy of it all. At the rise of the song, Malfoy grabbed her by the hips and lifted her in the air, akin to the silly dance Professor McGonagall taught them all those years ago. She looked down from her place above him and grinned— she had never felt more free in her life.

Once she was lowered back to her feet, an absurd thought crossed her mind. She tried to hide her smile, but could tell her muscles weren’t working correctly due to the alcohol and was doing the opposite of what she had wanted.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, drawing her back from another twirl from his arms.

“I was just thinking…”

He rolled his eyes. “Boy what a surprise that is.”

She gasped dramatically and lightly smacked his arm. “Rude. As I was saying. We should leave.”

The hand on her waist drifted up her back. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh really?”

“Yes.”

“And just where would we go?” He breathed, leaning slightly closer to her. The hand now touching between her shoulder blades, fingers touching the base of her neck— which she was sure was hot and splotchy.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Alright, Granger.” The hand now tangled into her curls, ghosting up the back of her head. “Surprise me.”

She glanced up into his eyes, now darkening much quicker than she had seen before. He had stopped moving, the two of them now standing still in the middle of the dance floor. The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. Neither one of them glanced away, afraid to break the spell.

“Do you trust me?” She whispered.

He spoke without hesitation. “Immensely.”

Finally plucking up enough nerve to break the spell first, she pulled herself from his arms, but kept a hold on his hand. She tugged him behind her until they had reached their table of friends. She grabbed her bag and addressed the group.

“We’re leaving and will see you all next month.” Without waiting for the obvious responses they were bound to have, she dragged Malfoy behind her until they were breathing in the fresh night air.

She took a deep breath, finally drawing in a cleansing breath. She turned to the blond beside her, his eyes still dark and trained on her. Without speaking a word, she Apparated them from the front of the bar.

They landed on hard ground. Hermione turned to the entrance, while Malfoy started pulling her closer. He paused in his movements and glanced at their surroundings.

“Granger,” he drawled. “Where are we?”

“Pizza!” She exclaimed and pulled him into the shop.

……

The next morning, Hermione awoke to a pounding in her head and the churning of her stomach. She closed her eyes to the bright sunlight pouring through the windows and groaned. She had a few too many drinks at the bar and if she was remembering correctly, she had a few too many when she arrived home as well.

She was just about to get up to grab something to quench her dying thirst when another groan came from beside her, followed quickly by the sound of running feet and a door slamming.

She cracked open an eye in confusion and peeked at her surroundings. She was on her side, facing the back of a couch. A couch that did not belong to her. She rolled on her other side and sighed at the realization. She was in Malfoy’s living room. What in Merlin’s name happened last night?

With a quick glance to the floor, she saw a pile of pillows and a small throw blanket. Maybe nothing happened. Maybe they had simply passed out. In the same house. In the same room.

She had just slowly sat up when a loo flushed and the sound of bare feet returned. Malfoy entered the living room from the back hallway hair disheveled, shirt untucked and askew, skin ashen and sweaty.

“That bloody pizza doesn’t taste too good the second time around,” he croaked.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the thought, and struggled to keep her meal from last night at bay herself.

“What exactly happened?” She tentatively asked.

Malfoy had plopped into the armchair and leaned his head back, slowly stroking his forehead with his fingertips. “You fed us mountains of pizza and then demanded we come back here and finish all my wine.”

“Not my greatest idea,” she deadpanned.

Malfoy just snorted in reply.

“Where’s the Hangover Potion? Don’t you have any?” Surely he did after he left her a vial of it when he delivered her back to her flat after their second meeting for the game.

“I’ve just owled Ginny. I gifted some to her for her birthday and I gifted a lot. She has to have some left.”

The two sat in relative silence while they waited for Ginny’s owl to arrive. The Potters must’ve had a good lie in after a late night out. After about an hour of sitting and sipping slowly on glasses of water, Malfoy jumped from the chair and stalked into the hallway again. He emerged moments later changed into a pair of joggers and a jumper. He tossed a pile of clothes onto the sofa.

“Here. Not sure how long Ginny is planning on keeping us waiting, so we might as well get comfortable.” Without looking at her, he swept back to his chair and pulled out a book.

Hermione thanked him and made a mad dash for the bathroom. She quickly peeled off her bar clothes, happy to be rid of the alcohol soaked fabric. She took a moment to look in the mirror and grimaced at her reflection. Her hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in various directions. And even though her nausea had dissipated, her skin was pale and sickly looking. The glass shower in the corner was calling her name.

Straightening her back, she made the decision to take a quick shower, Malfoy’s opinion be damned. She stepped into the hot spray and sighed. It was the most relaxing shower she had ever taken— the water pressure was glorious. It was amazing the things that money could buy.

Although she wanted to stay under the water for hours, she knew that Malfoy would get suspicious if she took too long. It was with great disappointment that she turned off the shower and stepped into the steamy bathroom. After toweling off, she pulled on the clothes Malfoy had provided for her— black sweatpants and an oversized Quidditch jumper that fell passed her thighs. She glanced around and grumbled under her breath. She had left her wand in the living room and had no quick way to dry her hair. Now she had no way of hiding the fact that she showered.

She entered the living room to find Malfoy seated on the sofa, a pile of toast in front of him on the coffee table and two glasses of water.

“I figured we might as well eat something while we wait—,” he glanced up at her and paused. “Did you shower?”

Undeterred by his tone, she rolled up the sleeves of the enormous jumper and made her way to him. “I did. I smelled of booze and cheap pizza.”

“I should’ve showered,” he mumbled under his breath.

Shrugging, she grabbed a slice of toast and took a small bite. “Well hindsight is 20/20. You could shower at any time, Malfoy.”

He hummed into his drink.

As it turned out, Ginny was having an extremely late lie in and didn’t return their owl for another three hours. Hermione didn’t mind though and it seemed like Malfoy didn’t either. The two of them sat quietly and read side by side on the sofa, the throw blanket draped across both of their laps. At one point Hermione had complained of a headache and Malfoy insisted she lay down with her head in his lap. He traced his fingers across her forehead, tickling her scalp along the way. Not too long later, she had fallen asleep.

She awoke to a slight tapping on the window. She waited patiently for Malfoy to let in the owl before she remembered she was laying on his lap— he probably didn’t want to move her. She lifted her head to see that he had fallen asleep as well, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open, blond locks falling across his face.

She smirked at the sight of him napping with his mouth open and pushed the hair from his forehead. The owl pecked impatiently at the window, pulling her from her revere.

She took the vials from the owl, fed him a corner of toast and after he bit her finger, she shoved him out the window.

Not wasting any time, she gulped down one of the vials and waited for the potion to take effect. She tiptoed back into the living room, finding Malfoy still asleep on the couch. It really was endearing watching him peacefully sleeping. Not wanting to disturb him, she set the vial on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the armchair.

What was she doing? She had only waited until Ginny sent the potions and now she was what, waiting for him to wake up? This was pathetic, even for her. She was following him around and hanging on his every word like a love struck teenager.

Although he wouldn’t have kept inviting her over if he didn’t enjoy her company. Maybe he just wanted to be friends. Obviously this went beyond the married couple game, because the last few times they hung out they hadn’t even discussed questions from the game. But that’s all they did— talk.

This was ridiculous. She needed to get home and prepare for work the next day. And feed her cat. And,

And

And

And

Be anywhere but here. She couldn’t be here anymore.

She could feel herself starting to spiral. Before she started to panic too much, she jumped up, grabbed her wand and Apparated home.

Once she was in the safety of her home, she sank to the floor and placed her head between her knees. Taking long deep breaths, her heart rate began to slow, her mind clearing and breathing returning to normal.

After the war, she had been prone to panic attacks, but she hadn’t had one in months.

Great. So now she had that to look forward to as well.

Brilliant.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Text

The next month, George had sent everyone an owl stating that he didn’t need them any longer to test the game. Ginny had been disgruntled that they weren’t able to have anymore “friendly competition”, which Ron responded with a snort and implied that she had only wanted to continue winning.

Ginny threw a dinner roll at his head.

When Harry suggested they still meet up to play other games or even a wholesome meal between them all, Ginny accused him of being a pansy that didn’t want to win. Harry, at a loss for words, returned to his meatloaf silently. Everyone knew how competitive Ginny was, but George’s game had brought out the worst in her. Once she found something she excelled at, she didn’t want to let it go. Her and Ron had argued throughout dinner, the evening ending with the spouses dragging them through Hermione’s front door.

“Such a lovely meal, Hermione. Thanks so much for having us,” Harry said brightly with a rambling Ginny draped over his shoulder.

Hermione picked up Ginny’s shoe that had fallen on the floor and placed it back on her dangling foot. “I’m happy you were all able to make it,” Hermione replied. She didn’t respond to his comment about the meal. Let him believe she had cooked something edible when she had simply purchased it from the grocery store.

“Let’s just hope these two can keep it civil next time.”

Sarah chuckled from the doorway. “Doubtful. But I love the optimism.”

Hermione laughed and bid everyone farewell, the door clicking shut behind them.

The evening had started out well enough, the two couples coming over for dinner in celebration of Harry’s promotion. Everyone had been chatting about new events in their lives when the owl showed up. Looking back it had been a good thing Hermione hadn’t invited George or she was sure Ginny would’ve throttled him through the wall. Ginny had enjoyed the game much more than anyone had anticipated. Ron, his big mouth and his own red headed fury didn’t help much either. He taunted that the Potters were only in it to win.

Which was half true— Ginny was mainly in it to bring home a win.

Hermione flicked her wand to the table, directing her dishes to wash themselves. Normally she preferred to wash the dishes by hand, but the meal had worn her out— so magic cleaning it was. The constant bickering between the two siblings caused a small headache to build behind her forehead. How Molly made it through their entire lives listening to that dribble was a mystery.

She had just sank into her sofa cushions when her fireplace flared to life and a familiar blond head emerged from the flames.

Even with the warning from the flames, Hermione still jumped in her seat.

“Oh good, you’re up,” The head stated.

“Of course I’m up. It’s only eight,” she replied, glancing at the clock above the mantel to confirm the time.

“I’ve had a particularly rotten day, mind if I pop by?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if this is a reoccurring thing, I think you might need to find a better job. I can’t always improve your moods for you.”

There was a slight pause. “Note taken. I’ll be over in a moment.” The head disappeared and the fire puttered out.

Just as Hermione was readjusting herself to make room for her guest, the fire burst to life again, this time a full figure stepped from the flames.

Once he stepped into the dim lamp light, Hermione got a full look at Malfoy and what she saw made her gasp. His clothes were torn and filthy, the hem of his robes looked to be burned and the hole on his chest was caked in blood. Not to mention the blood and dirt across his face.

“Howdy, Granger,” He grunted, tumbling into the wall beside him.

Hermione leaped from the couch to grab his arm before he slid to the floor. “Malfoy! What on Earth happened to you?!”

“Just a bit of a scuffle.” He winced as her hand grazed his elbow. “Looks worse than it is.”

“Like hell it does. Let’s get you seated shall we?” With no help from the bulky wizard, she practically tossed him onto the nearby chair.

“Granger, I swear I’m fine. I came to just mellow out a touch.” He grunted when his back touched the cushion.

“Malfoy, you look like someone threw you off the roof and then ran you over with a lawn mower.” He furrowed his brows in confusion, but she cut him off before he could ask what a lawn mower was. “Shut up and let me fix you.” Without waiting for a reply, she ran to the kitchen to get a cup of water. She thrust the glass into his hand with a gruff, “drink”, before she took off to the bathroom.

Now with arms loaded up with supplies, she sat on the coffee table to assess the damage.

Thankfully Malfoy had listened and finished the drink just as she sat down. She took the cup from his hands and placed it behind her. Then she began the tedious work of removing his robes from his wounds.

She used a gentle Diffindo to slice the fabric from his skin. As it was peeled away, the previously clotted wounds began to seep again. Working slowly, twenty minutes passed before she was finally able to remove the outer robes from his shoulders. And another thirty minutes before his shirt was tossed to the pile. What she saw underneath made her eyes burn suddenly with grief for the blond.

It looked as though someone had mutilated him. The skin on his chest was in ribbons, his arms burned down the length of them. And his neck had what looked like… scratch marks?

Unconsciously her hand reached out to touch the wounds, but she caught herself before making contact, her hand stopping short of his skin.

“Malfoy, wha…? What… what happened to you?” Her eyes roved across his body. The tears she fought so hard to hold back began to fall unwittingly.

“Granger,” Malfoy tried to interrupt her rambling tears, but his attempts went unnoticed. “Granger,” he tried again a bit louder. Still nothing. He tried again, much louder. “Hermione.” He gripped her chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing her to meet his eyes. The intensity in his eyes forced her to stop her blubbering and pay attention.

“Hermione, I will be okay. But first things first I need a blood replenisher before you can patch me up. Otherwise you’ll be forced to roll around my unconscious body if I pass out from blood loss.”

The authority in his voice calmed her slightly. Right. She could do this. All she had to do was push her feelings to the wayside enough for her to treat him.

She could do this.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Strong fingers gripped hers tightly and squeezed.
“It’ll be alright,” Malfoy whispered.

Hermione opened her eyes and met his, noting that his face was paling significantly. She had to buck up and be strong enough for the both of them before he passed out.

“Right.” She grabbed the potion from her bag and thrust it to his lips. Malfoy swallowed without question and leaned his head back on the chair, the color already returning to his cheeks.

“Alright, Malfoy, let’s take a look at those wounds.”

Malfoy hissed through his teeth as she touched his already bruising shoulder. Judging by the gap under his skin, his shoulder seemed to be dislocated. She groaned slightly under her breath, quiet enough that he wouldn’t hear her frustration. Healing severe wounds was not particularly in her wheel house. She had learned the typical healing spells while she, Harry, and Ron were on the run years ago, but not anything to deal with broken bones, or like she needed now, to heal a dislocated shoulder. She told Malfoy so and he just grunted in response.

“You’re not going to like this, but I do know how to fix it the Muggle way,” she muttered in warning.

“Okay then just do it, Granger.”

“It’s going to hurt. A lot.”

“Can’t hurt worse than it already does.” He grabbed his tattered shirt from the floor and shoved it in his mouth. “Ha uh ger ten,” his barely indiscernible words came through the fabric.

Hermione took that to mean he was ready. As quickly as she could, so as to not delay the moment any longer, she put pressure on his shoulder and yanked his injured arm forward. His muffled yell made her wish she hadn’t been the one to do that. His breath came out in quick spurts while he recovered from the swift onslaught of pain. She took the opportunity of his distraction to hastily heal the wounds she could reach on his front side.

Once his breathing evened out and the ratted shirt was once again disposed of did she direct him to turn around. She recoiled at the sight of his back. Criss-crossed claw marks tore at his skin, some of the grooves revealing bone under the skin.

Hermione brought her hand up to her mouth in shock. “Malfoy…”

“Granger, just— just heal it and then you can ask all the questions you want.” His demand left no room to argue.

She pulled a vial from her bag and placed two drops of Dittany in every mark. Malfoy flinched in discomfort as the potion worked it’s magic, emitting tiny puffs of smoke as it worked. Then she waved her wand muttering the healing spells under her breath, watching the skin slowly knit itself back together. The deepest injuries didn’t heal properly, leaving raised scars in their wake. He could drape a cloth dipped in a scar reducing potion later if he wanted. Knowing him, he would probably claim that witches loved scars and he was bound to keep them.

She patted his shoulder blade to indicate she was finished with her work. He turned back into the chair and laid his head back. Hermione mumbled she would fetch him some pain potion and he nodded without argument, closing his eyes and sinking further into the cushions.

Forcing a pain potion and another glass of water down his throat put Malfoy at ease. He started nodding off moments later, only to be awoken by Hermione’s bombardment of questions.

“It was a pack of werewolves up in the mountains,” he slurred.

“Why in the fuck were you out in the mountains around werewolves on a full moon?” Hermione was already drafting the strongly worded letter she would be sending to the Ministry the following morning.

“Didn’t know it was a full moon— got the calendar mixed up— just went to talk to them.“ Malfoy was answering her questions but they were coming out in mumbled spurts as he fought to stay awake.

“Why—?”

“Reports of attacks from a nearby village. We found location— bloody newbie mixed up the calendar— I made out the worst.”

Forget the strongly worded letter, Hermione was going to make a personal visit to the Auror department herself and let them all hear it.

“You’re really cute when you’re angry,” he whispered so quietly she might have imagined it. But glancing up at him she could pin point a tiny dimple on the corner of his grinning mouth.

“You’re really high,” she replied smartly.

He pursed his lips and squinted at her. “So grouchy.” Always the jester this one. “Gonna beat up the Ministry for me?”

Hermione frowned at him. “Someone should.”

“How lucky am I to have my own personal knight in shining armor to go to battle for me? You really are my hero, Herm.”

“Absolutely do not call me that.”

“Whatever you say, petit lion.”

She turned her head to scrutinize her bookshelf. Goofy, high Malfoy was a new experience for her and she wasn’t totally sure how to handle it.

Small snores began emanating from the armchair. Good. Asleep Malfoy she could deal with. She took this time to observe the pale wizard before her. The color was still slowly coming back to his features, the wounds on his body now healed, but red from the damage done. His arm curled to his chest to take the pressure off his now healing shoulder and his face still covered in blood. She casted a silent Scourgify before nudging him awake.

“Come on, Malfoy. Let’s get you to a bed so you can sleep this all off.” She tried heaving him up out of the chair with absolutely zero help from the bulky man. After her third try of trying to get him to stand, she took pity on him and simply levitated him to her bed. Leaving a glass of water on the nightstand, along with additional pain potion if need be, she covered him with her quilt and quietly made her way to the door.

A whispered word stopped her. “Stay.” She turned to find his eyes squinted open to her. “Please stay, Granger.”

She contemplated the request for a moment. He was sore, healing, alone, and high on pain medication. How could she deny his quiet plea? Not giving it any more thought, she slipped into bed beside him.

When he sighed in relief and put his arm around her waist, she thought she could sleep the rest of her life like this. Unperturbed by her thoughts, she drifted into a peaceful slumber.

….

Sunshine streamed through the open window as butterflies danced across her skin. Hermione breathed in a cleansing breath as a breeze drifted in and ruffled her hair, tickling her nose. She slowly opened her eyes with a smile on her lips. She had never slept so well in her life.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a gravely voice whispered in her ear.

With frozen limbs, she shifted her eyes to see who had spoken. Malfoy was leaning up on his elbow, fingers making small circles on her arm. He was gazing down at her with a tiny quirk of his lips.

Malfoy. Of course. Memories of the previous evening flooded back to her brain. She had completely forgotten about their previous encounter. She healed him up, put him in her bed and he insisted she stay with him. At the time she thought he just needed comfort in his time of need— now she couldn’t be too sure.

“Ho— how are you feeling?” She tried to blame the fact that she had just woken up on the crack in her voice, not the handsome man in her bed tickling her skin.

“Better than I have in months.” He kept up his torturous minute circles, his eyes downcast as he continued. “I had a beautiful mediwitch care for me and keep me company all night.”

“Malfoy…”

“Thanks for fixing me up, Granger.”

“Of course. I couldn’t leave you bleeding on my rug.” Malfoy chuckled at her blunt comment.

“I just really appreciate it.”

Hermione closed her eyes to gather her courage and allowed herself to ask the question that had been bothering her since he stumbled out of her Floo. “Why did you come to me? Why didn’t you see an actual Healer?”

He furrowed his brow. “I actually didn’t even think to,” he answered. “I was in pain and I only wanted to see you.”

The breath caught in her throat. She glanced up to see his eyes now staring directly into hers. Did he…? Did he have feelings for her? Absolutely not. That’s just absurd. Despite her inner denial, she couldn’t look away from the hope gleaming in his grey eyes.

“M— me?” She choked out.

“Yes, you. You’re all I ever want to see.”

Hermione blinked at him. Apparently an evening being mauled by werewolves made him brave.

The two stared at each other for a few silent moments before Malfoy dared to break it. “Do you— do you ever think about it? Us?” He asked hesitantly.

Without thinking twice she breathed her answer. “Yes.”

He slid his hand through her tangled hair, stopping to rest on the back of her neck. His thumb grazed the skin under her ear. “I’ve thought about you for months.”

Feeling brave herself, Hermione reached her hand up and began tracing his lips with her fingertip. His lips parted, his warm breath tickling her hand.

He thought about her for months. Months! He had been just as affected as she during their time of getting to know each other. From being paired up in George’s marriage game, to meeting up to practice questions, to hanging out platonically, and now laying side by side, ready to take this leap. Together.

After weeks of waiting for this moment, there was only one answer she could give.

“Me too.”

His lips crashed to hers. She wasted no time pressing her lips back, moulding them to his. The hand on the back of her neck tightened as his other arm came around her waist, pressing her to him firmly. Her arms came around his neck on their own accord, a moan slipping from her lips automatically.

When his tongue touched her lip, she didn’t hesitate to grant it access. Fingers drifted across skin, breathy sighs mixing between the pair. Malfoy shifted his weight and moved his body to cover hers. She took the moment to drift her hand down his back and paused. The tips of her fingers grazed the scars from the werewolves claws. Her eyes began to burn and her breath stuttered.

Malfoy realized she was no longer responding to his kisses and leaned back to peer at her face. “Granger, what’s wrong? If this is too fast for you we can stop.”

“It— it’s not th—that,” she hiccuped like a child trying to fight back tears. “I— I was so worried about you last night.” A tear made its way down her cheek, Malfoy’s thumb coming up to wipe it away.

“Oh, darling it’s alright. I’m alive and I’m fine.”

“But what if you weren’t?” She croaked.

Malfoy let out a sigh and leaned his forehead against hers. “Granger, my job isn’t really the safest job out there. There will be times that I come back injured, or even end up in St. Mungo’s.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, but tears still streamed down her cheeks. “I get that, but it still doesn’t feel great.”

“It won’t. But if you want this—us— you need to know that it will happen. And unfortunately until I get promoted to a higher position, it will happen frequently.”

“I know. I want this, I do, but you can’t expect me to hold it together every time you get hurt.”

Malfoy chuckled and placed a chaste kiss between her brows. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“I might even go to battle for you a few times as well.”

“Of course you will, love.”

Wiping her face to rid any evidence of her fit, Hermione pressed her lips against his softly and turned on her side. Taking the hint, Malfoy moved behind her and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her back tight against his front.

“Could you just hold me for a bit?”

She felt his lips press into her hair before he whispered into her ear, “Always.”

Chapter 5: Epilogue

Chapter Text

Hermione stared at her reflection, the chorus of chaos echoing up the stairs from the kitchen. People had been scrambling around all day, exuding much more stress than she was capable of. One would think the bride of the wedding would be leading the chaotic parade rather than her entourage. But here she was, calm as a cucumber, excited for the day to begin.

Sarah grunted in frustration behind her. “This one curl will not stay put.” Hermione winced as Sarah pulled said curl a bit too tightly.

“Careful you don’t rip the hair from her head,” Ginny voiced from her spot on the bed.

Sarah finally noticed her actions and lessened her grip. “Sorry, Hermione. Your hair is just much too unruly. I wish you would let us put something through it to keep it’s shape.”

Hermione shook her head for what had to be the hundredth time in the past hour. “I told you I want to feel like me on my wedding day.” She had never been the type to overly change her appearance for events, even if it was supposed to be the most important day of her life. So to the extreme disappointment to her bridesmaids, she was wearing her hair as natural as possible, a dress she nabbed from a consignment shop down the street from her home, and a a swipe of mascara and lipstick as far as makeup was concerned.

Ginny, having known Hermione for years was less concerned about her simplicity than Sarah, who was still fighting to tuck the veil into a neat knot at the back of Hermione’s head. “Honestly I think it’s honorable that you want to stay true to yourself. It’s not like you’ve invited loads of guests anyways.”

“We just wanted those closest to us present,” Hermione replied. It’s not like the location was large enough to fit the entire wizarding side of Britain anyway.

Sarah shoved a handful of pins into Hermione’s clump of curls and stepped back to assess her work. “I think that’s as good as I can get it. If it feels loose at all, give me a sign and I’ll be right there to fix it.”

Hermione moved her head slowly from side to side to feel the strength of the knot. “It feels sturdy enough, Sarah. Thank you so much.”

Ginny hopped up from the bed, now ready for the next task. “Are you ready for your dress now?”

Hermione nodded and stood from the vanity. The dress she chose might have been simple by her friends standards, but it spoke to her the first time she saw it in the window of the shop. Slipping it on for the first time felt like a sign when it fit her like a glove. She needed no altering and immediately put it away for safe keeping after purchasing it. After seeing the bagged garment in the back of her closet for weeks, she was beyond eager to see it again.

When Ginny pulled the zipper down to reveal the dress, butterflies erupted in Hermione’s stomach. The ivory gown with a small neckline had billowy sleeves that cinched at her wrists. The fabric fit around her chest with a soft lace, then fell gracefully to the ground at her feet. The design was plain, but in a way that made Hermione feel like herself yet beautiful and ethereal at the same time.

The girls gasped when Hermione pulled her arms through the sleeves.

“Hermione, I’m sorry I ever doubted your choice. You look absolutely stunning,” Sarah gushed.

Ginny nodded, somehow at a loss of words.

Hermione blushed and faced herself in the mirror. She looked like herself, but a much more sophisticated and fairy-like version of herself. She was radiating happiness from her glowing smile, to her restless feet. She gave herself a small smile and took a deep breath. This was it.

Ginny grabbed the bouquet of flowers behind her and held them tight. “Ready to go?”

Hermione and Sarah nodded before following Ginny down the stairs where Hermione’s parents were waiting. The three burst into tears the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“I can’t believe my little girl is getting married!” Her mum blubbered.

“You look positively gorgeous, poppet,” her dad mumbled, not usually one for emotional words.

Hermione couldn’t do much else but wipe her eyes and embrace her parents. Sending her mother and friends through the door first, Hermione gripped her dad’s arm and prepared to follow.

“Ready for this?” He asked her quietly.

“I think so,” she replied.

“You know it’s not too late to back out now. We could hop in the car and just drive away.”

Hermione swatted his arm, knowing he was full well joking. “Even if I wanted to, dad, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to suggest that the moment I’m to walk down the aisle.”

“Just wanted to make sure you knew it was an option.”

“Noted.”

Then they turned the corner and Hermione’s heart stood still. The park had been decorated beautifully for the day. Chairs were set up to create a small aisle leading to the wisteria covered gazebo at the end. Matching wisteria covered the back of each chair and small lanterns lined her way. What she was drawn to most though was the blond man at the end of the purple trail. Her eyes locked with Draco’s, never leaving as she heard the crowd gather to their feet.

His face was full of happiness and love like she had never known. In all the past year they had been together, he had never looked at her quite this way. It made her smile grow even larger, and the butterflies in her stomach flutter even harder.

After making her way down the aisle to a violin version of her favorite song, Hermione waited for her dad to transfer her hand to Draco’s.

“I’d say if you ever hurt her I’d kill you, but I’m pretty sure you could fight back just as well. So I will say, don’t hurt her or I will ruin every future romantic endeavor you would ever have,” Her dad narrowed his eyes as he said this, and Draco’s bewildered face proved that he believed him.

“I have no plan to ever hurt Hermione, sir. Even in the most trivial way. But I will keep that in mind.”

“See that you do.” And at that small threat, Hermione’s dad kissed her cheek, and made his way to his seat.

“Your dad is terrifying,” Draco whispered to which she could only respond with a chuckle.

The ceremony went so quickly that Hermione barely had a chance to take it all in. But as the Ministry official pronounced them married, Hermione paused to soak in every possible detail to remember this for the rest of her life. The way Draco grinned a full tooth smile at her, the way his fingers tickled the back of her neck and sent a thrill down her spine. The smoothness of his freshly shaved cheek as it brushed hers and the firmness of his lips and he claimed her as his wife.

Tears pushed their way out before she had a chance to draw them back. When they pulled back from their kiss, she saw that Draco’s eyes were glistening with matching tears. As the crowd stood and cheered, they pressed their foreheads together and took a small moment for themselves.

“I love you so much, Herm.”

Hermione laughed quietly against his lips. “I love you, Dray.”

Draco’s brows knit together, but his smile didn’t falter. “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call me Herm.”

“Deal.” He placed a chaste kiss to her lips before turning to the crowd and lifting their joined hands in the air.

The night went by much quicker than either of them anticipated. Before they knew it, they were seated at a table with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Sarah, and George and his girlfriend Alicia.

Hermione sipped from her glass of elf wine and leaned back into Draco’s chest. He tightened his grip around her waist and adjusted his knee to balance her better on his lap. The group was commemorating about how Draco and Hermione got together in the first place.

“You hated him so much,” George laughed out.

“I did not!” Hermione refuted.

“Well you didn’t particularly care for me, darling,” Draco mused behind her.

“I will have you know, I liked you perfectly fine.” Hermione huffed. “I just didn’t have that strong of an opinion of you.”

George guffawed across the table. “Or in Hermione speak, you hated him.”

Hermione frowned and took another sip, not bothering to answer George’s accusations.

“It’s alright, I know you like me plenty now,” Draco whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her lobe.

“Maybe just a touch,” she replied.

Draco’s laugh tickled her ear as he placed a small kiss behind her jaw.

“So George, what game do you have for us this evening?” Ron asked, always curious as to what his brother was cooking up in his shop.

After the success of the couple game he had come up with, George was flushed with new ideas of how to keep groups of people entertained for hours. He had now invented five other games, the most recent one being a hit among young Hogwarts students.

“I was thinking about remembering why we are all gathered here today,” he said smoothly.

Harry groaned, but Ginny lit up from her spot on his lap. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“If you think after what happened last time that we are bringing this game back…” Harry warned.

“What happened last time was your wife’s fault,” Ron shot out.

“What happened last time was that you were a pathetic loser that doesn’t know how to lose graciously,” Ginny shot back just as hotly.

“Who says I don’t know how to lose graciously? Sarah and I have been practicing at home the last few weeks and we are ready to kick all of your arses!” Ron declared with enough pride, one would think he knew what he was getting himself into.

“Oh it’s on! Get out the cards, George!” Ginny hopped off her husband’s lap and grabbed a new bottle to pour herself a glass, which was really a bad combination with this game.

As George dug through his pockets to collect the needed cards, Draco whispered in Hermione’s ear again, “Want to be my partner, wife?”

Hermione couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her lips. “Well the game does require partners to be married to play. So are we still married, husband?”

Draco pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “Always. Let’s kick some arse.”

The group dispersed an hour later with a raging Ginny, a purple-faced Ron, and a victorious Hermione and Draco.

 

The End.