Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy laughed.
What a fucking cliche. He strode towards the fiction section of Variabilis Books, as he always did, when he sees her. Hermione Granger is sitting on the floor, between the stacks, reading fucking Bukowski. So, no, this could not get any more fucking cliche.
Creases already lined the spine. She had cracked the spine? While still inside the bookstore? Draco couldn’t stop staring at the way Hermione was engrossed in Notes of a Dirty Old Man by Charles Bukowski. Her amber eyes never once lifted from the text. Pages flipped and eyes scanned back and forth without concern for the world turning around her. She looked beautiful, Draco thought. Everything about her was so typical Granger—black converse creased and smudged with white laces turned grey. Worn out denim, beginning to rip, covered her knees while the seams of her jeans frayed. Upon first glance, you’d think the grey of her shirt and the cracks in the screenprinting of the iconic The Misfits Box Set album cover skull was manufactured that way. In reality, the grey was once stark black a decade ago and the missing pieces of the trees came from hundreds of trips through the washer and dryer. Hermione Granger was sitting in a bookstore, engrossed in Bukowski, and she looked effortlessly beautiful.
Before breaking the spell of his gaze, Draco consumed everything he could about her. Right as Draco was about to look away, Hermione tore her eyes off the page for the first time. Bukowski could have written about the heat between them as their eyes burned into one another. The endless moment, a thousand words exchanged through their eyes, was the only muse Bukowski needed. Just as Draco had thought the moment he saw her, gods this is fucking cliche.
Hermione broke their wordless gaze first, “Malfoy?”
“Granger,” Draco gave her a slight nod, acknowledging her presence.
“What are you doing here?”
“Patronizing a bookshop, the same as you.”
“No. I meant what are you doing here? In a Muggle bookshop.”
“If you must know, it’s my favorite one.”
Hermione gawked at him, unable to process that Draco Malfoy’s favorite bookshop was Muggle. Draco awaited her response; when it seemed she was going to ignore him, he turned on his heel to walk away.
“Why is this one your favorite,” Hermione stammered, clearly flustered.
Variabilis Books was situated on the corner of a busy street in Muggle London’s West End. Cobblestone lined the exterior of the three story building; the exterior was run down and dirty looking. Only faint lettering above the door and small windows with a view of messily stacked books proved the building wasn’t vacant. Any passerby wouldn’t take a second glance at the bookshop, it was heavily under patronized which kept it quaint. A lovely older couple, Amanda and Irvin Asier, never minded the lack of customers. Windows facing the street lined two sides of the building, providing a lovely view of the area.
“I love that people rarely come here,” said Draco. “Whenever I buy a new book I go to the bay window on the second floor and read there for hours—it’s my favorite part of every Wednesday. You can see my favorite hotel in London from one of the bay windows..”
“Which hotel is your favorite?” Hermione asked, never having sat in a bay window on the second floor.
“The Savoy.”
~*~
Every Wednesday since, Draco Malfoy would see Hermione Granger at Variabilis. He’d find her exactly the way he did the first time, reading in between the fiction stacks, while on his way up the winding staircase to the second floor. They began to wave at each other as Draco passed her by each week; Hermione only looked up from her book for Draco.
Months passed as they both felt comfortable in their routine. Neither dared to disturb what felt like a firm constant in both of their lives. Not until one Wednesday Draco Malfoy didn’t see Hermione Granger engrossed in a new book between the fiction stacks. His heart sank but brushed it off as made his way up the staircase, newly purchased book in tow.
She was there. In his favorite bay window, looking out at his favorite hotel. Hermione Granger in his bay window. Sensing his presence, Hermione turned to smile at Draco. After a moment in shock, Draco began to absorb the scene in front of him. Why did Hermione have two books? Not a single crease adorned the book sitting next to her. Draco continued walking over to his favorite corner of the earth when Hermione spoke.
“Hi,” she smiled as she spoke.
They hadn’t spoken since Draco walked in on the biggest fucking cliche. Their carefully crafted routine didn’t involve anything more than a wave on her end with a smile and nod on Dracos. This was new territory, Draco didn’t know if he was ready to dive headfirst into new territory.
“Hi,” Draco responded awkwardly.
“I quite like the view from this window. No wonder it’s your favorite, it’s so peaceful up here.”
“Peaceful. Yeah, it’s peaceful.”
“I hope I’m not overstepping, but I’ve noticed you seem to be going through the classics. I thought you might like to read this one.”
Hermione reached to grab the paperback sitting next to her; as she held out the book for Draco to grab, their hands brushed against one another. Electricity shot through their bones, heat-filled their bodies. Another fucking cliche- great, Draco thought.
Draco read the title aloud, "The Great Gatsby,” before looking back up at Hermione to notice she was already watching him.
“It’s one of my favorites,” Hermione said shyly. “Daisy is one of the most hated females in literature,” she laughed.
“I’ll give it a go. Thanks, Granger.”
As Hermione gave up the prized window seat and descended the winding staircase she looked back at Draco one last time, he couldn’t help but notice she was wearing the Misfits shirt again. And so, a new routine began.
______________________________________________________________________________
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Draco returned to his flat that night- made himself a cup of tea, turned on the fireplace, and curled up in his armchair. In true Granger fashion, Draco cracked the spine and began reading. He spent hours enthralled by Nick Carraway, Daisy Buchanan, and Jay Gatsby. Draco hadn’t even noticed the passing of time until the clock struck twelve. Wonderful, yet another fucking cliche.
And so with the sunshined and the great busts of leaves
growing on the trees just as things grow in fast movies,
I had the familiar conviction that life was
beginning over again with the summer
Although it was only February, Draco felt the pages turning. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of him and Hermione orbiting each other from away. All he knew is that whatever it was, he didn’t want it to end.
Infamously a man of routine, Draco met Theo and Blaise for their weekly Tuesday night game of pontoon. Theo always managed to win, Draco and Blaise had yet to figure out how he managed to cheat every week. The Slytherins drank and played until Draco and Blaise gave up on attempting to beat Theo in the next round. Several galleons richer and four firewhiskeys less sober, Theo asked the question of the hour.
“So… you’re seeing, Granger?”
“I am not ‘seeing’ Granger. We simply patronize the same bookshop and run into each other there. We are most definitely not seeing each other.”
Theo and Blaise laughed in unison.
“If you’re not seeing each other, why did she give you that book? How do you explain that?” Blaise inquired with a smirk.
Theo chimed in, “It’s been what, six months? You cannot tell me that you don’t look forward to those measly seconds you get to look at her in that damn bookstore.”
Draco sighed, “We’ve been skating around each other for months and I don’t have a fucking clue what it’s meant to mean. We’ve spoken once since the first day I saw her there. So no you arseholes, we are not seeing each other and I have no idea what that book meant.”
“Just go talk to her mate, what’s the worst that could happen? At least allow yourself the opportunity to blush about an interaction that lasts longer than Blaise does,” Theo laughed.
“Oh, fuck you, mate,” Blaise retorted.
The trio burst out laughing, knowing very well that once upon a time at Hogwarts Blaise had often suffered from the inability to well—last. He claimed that the problem was long gone, but Theo and Draco were always wary of that proclamation.
As the laughter died down, Draco took a large gulp of his firewhiskey, “I don’t even know what I want from her. I don’t know if I even want things to change.”
Blaise looked at Draco like he didn’t believe a word of what he said, “Go read at that damn bay window on the second floor with her. If she falls, catch the Golden Girl.”
~*~
Without considering the consequences, Draco made his way to the fiction section. The elderly couple waved at him just before he found her. Typical. Hermione Granger might be more stuck in a routine than Draco. Once again, she was sitting on the floor in the fiction section with a cracked spine and dirty converse. Always those damn dirty converse. Just like every other Wednesday, she felt his presence and looked up at him smiling. Unlike the other Wednesdays, Draco didn’t nod and continue towards the staircase.
“Referring to someone as ‘Old Sport’ might just be the most pretentious shite I have ever heard,” Draco said with confidence in his voice that didn’t portray the rapid beating in his heart.
“You know, Old Sport, I’m going to have to agree with you on that one.”
“Granger agrees with a former Death Eater? Thank Merlin we’re in Muggle London and Rita Skeeter isn’t around to catch you and ruin the Golden Girl in an expose on Sunday’s front page.”
“You can’t be so sure she isn’t lurking in the shadows with a photographer.”
“Ah yes, a picture is worth a thousand words.”
“If you see a flash or a quick notes quill, run.”
“Granger afraid of a quick notes quill? Didn’t you know a thousand words isn’t worth a picture?”
“I think one can accomplish quite a lot in a thousand words.”
Draco joined Hermione on the floor for the first time on that Wednesday. Books forgotten, the two talked for the first time in nearly eight years. More than a thousand words circled the pair as Draco’s heartbeat quickened and Hermione’s cheeks blushed. Draco swore to himself that he would not think about the chemistry and internal pull he felt towards her. He did not need to become another cliche.
Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,
he told me, just remember that all the people in this
world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.
“You know, Granger, I think you might have had an ulterior motive in giving me that book.”
“Pray tell, Malfoy.”
“One of the major themes was class and how empty and shallow the upper class is.”
“Well, if that particular theme resonated with you Malfoy, that isn’t my fault.”
Draco laughed, “You really are something else, Hermione Granger.”
“Would you say I’m a rose?”
“An absolute rose.”
In the time the two spent learning each other all over again, on the floor of the bookshop, Draco learned that after the war Hermione wanted nothing to do with the Ministry. She grew tired of doing what everyone expected of her and had a deep-seated disdain for the Ministry after their handling of Voldemort’s return. Upon finishing her NEWTs, Hermione founded a private spell invention company. Emparecium allowed patrons to commission the creation of spells, unfortunately requiring Ministry approval for each spell. Draco learned the pun was a combination of her mother’s middle name, Erin, and elementary school best friend’s name, Marie. She enjoyed it. Her face lit up when describing the various forms of magic she had to intertwine to create a spell. Draco told her about his time traveling throughout the Muggle world after the war; in America, he learned that upon graduating school it was common to backpack across Europe. It was clear from the way he spoke that Draco was not a fan of that idea. He spoke of his discovery of Muggle sports and his collection of football, hockey, and baseball jerseys. While watching a hockey game on television, Draco found his calling. Upon his return to the U.K. Draco created a station on the WWW dedicated to the broadcasting of Quidditch games. Much like a Muggle sports broadcaster, Draco provided live coverage of all the Quidditch matches in Britain. Being a wizard had its perks, Draco was also able to attend Quidditch matches in Bulgaria, Ireland, and France to broadcast them to the Great Britain Quidditch fans. Both of them loved their jobs. They were happy.
~*~
And I like large parties. They’re so intimate.
At small parties there isn’t any privacy.
Saturday evening approached and Draco, Theo, and Blaise joined Narcissa for dinner at Malfoy Manor. Lucius never recovered after the fall of Voldemort; his time in Azkaban and subsequent stress over pleasing Voldemort deteriorated him. While awaiting trial, he became gaunt and so frail he was barely able to get out of bed in the morning. The night terrors and panic attacks never ceased until the day Narcissa sat on their bed, held Lucius’ hand, kissed his forehead, and told him that she loved it and that he could let go. Lucius Malfoy died on July 8, 1998. Narcissa was a mess for weeks, she lost the love of her life. Saturday evening dinners with her son and his best friends held her together until she was ready to move on. With the loss of Theo’s father and Lucius, they all came together to support one another through the reconstruction of their lives. Mrs. Zabini left England after the battle and fled to Italy in search of husband number eight; Blaise would visit once a year but he had never been close to his mother. Narcissa was a mother to all of the Slytherins.
Discussion of the annual Malfoy Summer Solstice Ball occupied their dinner. As Mippy brought out their Mediterranean cuisine for the evening, the four began to discuss the guest list and decor.
Narcissa looked at the trio and asked, “I know this is months away but have you boys considered who you will be bringing as dates yet?”
Theo and Blaise looked at each other and snickered. Blaise finally responded, “No, but I’m sure Draco knows exactly who he wants to invite.”
Draco glared at his friends, “I don’t plan on bringing a date, but thank you for your lovely comment, Blaise.”
Looking back and forth between the boys, trying to piece together what was occurring, Narcissa asked, “Theo do you mind explaining what on earth Blaise is speaking of that has Draco blushing, but wanting to immediately apparate out of the dining room?”
“Draco has been spending time with Hermione Granger.”
As his cheeks reddened and his pulse quickened Draco glared at Theo and motioned for him to shut up. Blaise made eye contact with Narcissa, silently telling her what Theo said was true.
Diverting the topic of conversation from Draco’s clear embarrassment Narcissa asks, “What do you boys think about having the ball outside this year? We could charm fireflies to fly and have lights strung up between the trees.”
Blaise nodded, “I think that’s a lovely idea, Narcissa.”
Having calmed down Draco added, “On my trip to America I saw bioluminescence at one of the beaches in California during the summertime. The water glowed bright blue. Perhaps we could get some of the algae blooms and add them to the pond by the pergola? We would need to charm the pond so it rippled because water movement causes the glow.”
Remembering the photos Draco brought back, Narcissa grabbed them to show Theo and Blaise before making the final decision. Fireflies and bioluminescence would provide beautiful light and color to the once bleak manor.
“Are we having the party on the actual Summer Solstice this year? Or are we doing it on the Saturday of that week?” Theo asked to ensure everyone was on the same page.
Narcissa checked in her calendar, “I think we should this year. If we are having such a lovely outdoor experience I think it makes the most sense to have it on the day of. Adds to the ambiance.”
Blaise leaned over to see the date circled on the calendar, “June 21st this year, not the 20th like last year.”
Everyone agreed that a true Summer Solstice party needed to occur on the actual Solstice. Summer and Winter Solstice parties helped Narcissa occupy many months of her year in party planning. The events helped her move forward following Lucius’ death so the boys never complained when they were asked to help. It mattered to her, and she didn’t ask for much.
Bringing out his own calendar to mark the date, Draco looked up at everyone, horror plaguing his face. He spoke slowly, “That’s Wednesday, June 21st.”
~*~
Instead of finding Hermione hidden in the fiction stacks, Draco found her sitting on his bay window seat again. Life moved in slow motion. Her golden curls spun as she turned to meet his eyes. The late afternoon light illuminated her warm-toned skin and her amber eyes were shined so bright Draco swore they looked like honey. When Hermione spoke to him, all he could hear was a symphony of waves crashing, old church bells, children laughing, the fire crackling, and the sound of the rainforest. Merlin help him, Draco Malfoy was going to die from being a cliche.
Her voice is
full of money.
Draco knew Gatsby was referring to wealth and privilege when telling Nick about Daisy. He knew that. But, he couldn’t help but think of those words. Her voice is full of money, men could drown in it and never have enough. Hermione Granger’s voice didn’t speak of wealth and privilege but it sounded like heaven.
“I got you a new book,” Hermione said excitedly.
Draco reached for the book and turned it around to read the title, “Lord of the Flies.”
The two shared the small bay window and read together in silence until the sun had long set behind the buildings in London and the only light came from the neon shop signs that lined the street. Knowing the elderly couple quite well, Draco and Hermione felt comfortable staying well past business hours. Nothing disturbed the serenity the new friends found in the window.
______________________________________________________________________________
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
Midnight approached as Draco and Hermione finished their books. Realizing how late it was, the two quickly headed down the spiral staircase and waved goodbye to the Asier’s, who were drinking tea together, and walked out the door onto a cold and deserted London street.
Mustering up some strength Draco asked, “It’s late. Would you like to walk to the apparition point with me?”
“I’d love that, Malfoy.”
Walking in silence was oddly comforting for Draco. Only the sound of the wind rustling the trees echoed against the tall stone buildings. Being an exceptionally cold February night, Draco did what any respectable pureblood gentlemen would do. Not because he had a crush on Hermione.
“You look a little cold,” Draco said as he began removing his outer coat, “Here—take my coat. We still have ways to the apparition point and I run hot anyway.”
Hermione blushed, taking the jacket, “Thank you.”
We did everything adults would do.
What went wrong?
Nearing the apparition point, Draco knew his time was almost up. “Hermione, do you ever wonder how we would have turned out if we weren’t children fighting a war?”
She stopped walking abruptly, “We wouldn’t be right here, right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll provide two hypotheticals. The first being, Voldemort never returned and we all had a peachy keen childhood. I would be working for the ministry instead of inventing spells and you would be doing whatever absurdly rich people do with a pureblood wife and pureblood ideals. The second hypothetical is that the adults fought the majority of the war; I would never have gone Horcrux hunting. We’d all be dead if we left it up to them. So, no, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
When Draco and Hermione reached the apparition point Draco turned and said, “I’d like to believe that if the past were different I would still end up right here right now.”
“Why?”
“Put that big spell inventing brain to good use, Granger. You can accomplish quite a lot in a thousand words, start there.”
~*~
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He didn’t know how to stop. It was driving him mad. Theo and Blaise were no help at all. Dumb and Dumber told him to simply stop thinking about her if he didn’t want to continue thinking about her. Shite advice. After three days of pining painfully, Draco owled Pansy inviting her out for lunch the following day. Promptly at one o’clock, Draco apparated to their favorite French restaurant, La Petite Grue en Papier.
Over the top, as always, Pansy arrived like she had just stepped off the runway at Paris Fashion Week. Draco knew he shouldn’t have expected any less from the one female friend he kept in close contact with. Seeing her arrive, Draco stood upfront the table he was seated out to hug her.
“Pansy, it’s been way too long. I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Missed you loads, Draco. Can we cut to the part where you ask me for advice on Granger so I don’t have to listen to you babble about Quidditch for an hour?”
“How did you-”
“Theo and Blaise. Honestly Draco, I’m offended you haven’t come to me sooner.”
“I don’t know what I want with her Pansy. That’s why I haven’t asked you.”
“If you can’t get this girl out of your head, granted I don’t know why considering her treacherous hair and ungodly personality, then ask her to spend time with you outside of that bookshop.”
The greatest ideas
are the simplest.
Pansy spent the rest of their lunch explaining to Draco how despicable that she was the last girl he dated and how badly he needed to date someone- even if that someone was Hermione Granger. Of course, Pansy insisted she meet Hermione if it ever got serious but never expected him to get that far.
“Draco—just ask her to spend time with you. It doesn’t have to be a date. Just get to know the girl for fucks sake.”
“What would I even ask her to do?”
“Dinner, Draco. Gods, are you really this daft?”
~*~
Although Draco had finished Lord of the Flies on Wednesday, he couldn’t help but pick it up again. He also couldn’t help himself from thumbing through the book of Bukowski poems he purchased after seeing Hermione reading some of his works. Draco, secretly, was a sucker for a good poem. Once Draco found a poem that resonated with him, he grabbed his quill and began to write it down. He flipped open to the title page in Lord of the Flies, deciding that book was the perfect place to express how he was feeling.
If I never see you again
I will always carry you
inside
outside
on my fingertips
and at brain edges
and in centers
centers
of what I am
of what remains.
- Charles Bukowski
What Draco was not going to do was think about what an utter cliche he continued to be. He didn’t think about being a cliche. He most definitely did not think about Hermione Granger. No, not at all. As he began to unwind for the evening, Draco walked up the staircase in his London flat. Clear glass railings on the stairs adjacent to a never-ending bookcase caused everyone to turn an eye, even if they didn’t give a shite about books at all. His flat was modern. It was masculine. Black marbles and dark woods contrasted the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. His view of the city was beautiful, the city lights always caused the sides of his lips to creep upward. A king-sized bed was placed so Draco could look at the cityscape from his sheets in the morning or night. The tone of the bedroom mirrored the modern masculine aesthetic of his downstairs. His flat was a loft and it was perfect for him, having an open floor plan that felt airy was the exact contrast he needed after being a prisoner at Malfoy Manor for so many years. After a long hot shower, Draco Malfoy curled beneath the sheets and most definitely did not think about Hermione Granger while he was drifting to sleep.
______________________________________________________________________________
Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko
Just like the last, Draco and Hermione’s new routine quickly fell into place. Each week Hermione waited for Draco at the bay window. Draco was convinced that Hermione had an ulterior motive for giving him the books—the themes connected to him or his past too much. He was sure that she was trying to reform a former Death Eater. Instead of purchasing a book, Draco immediately made his way up the stairs and sat next to Hermione to begin reading the newest book that she had purchased for him.
He lay in a shallow depression
And heaped piles of dry leaves
over himself until he felt warm again.
Pansy’s advice rang in the back of his head, beckoning him to take that leap. As much as Draco tried to shake it off, he couldn’t. Pansy’s high-pitched voice roared in his ears, it was unbearable. He knew the sentiment reminded him of something. It was a television show. What was it? It was a shrill he swore he would hear on his deathbed, punishment for all his sins. But, what was that damn show called?
A night without a beautiful sunset felt like a bad omen to Draco. He felt that he had no other choice. The only way Pansy’s god-awful voice would leave his head, he was sure it was the only way, was by asking Granger to dinner. On the count of four, Draco inhaled, held his breath, exhaled, and then held his breath again. Four count breathing was how Draco began to ground himself in his early teenage years—it was a habit he never got rid of. Where were Blaise’s charm and Theo’s wit when he needed it the most?
After his final exhale, Draco asked, “It’s getting late and I’m getting a bit hungry. Would you want to grab a bite to eat?”
The entire percussion section of the London Symphony Orchestra had replaced his heart. The steelpan player took over as his heartbeat to the tune of Everything’s Alright by Soca. A snare drum solo marched like an army general. Waiting for Hermione to answer, the marimba increased the tempo. Attraction by Emmanuel Séjourné took control of the sound and continued the climb of the marimba. Bossa Nova beats took over his heart, playing to the rhythm of Mas Que Nada by Sergio Mendes. Portuguese flew around him, he almost missed the first words that sambaed from her lips.
“I’m quite hungry myself, that sounds lovely. Do you have anywhere in mind?”
The percussions were quickly returned to the London Symphony Orchestra as Draco regained full control of his beating heart. Portuguese was tucked away again, waiting for a samba in Rio De Janeiro to return again.
“Fancy Italian?”
Hermione nodded and they made their way down the stairs to say goodbye to the Asier’s before meeting the brisk late February air. Even though her cheeks immediately blushed red from the nighttime air Hermione asked, “Do you mind if we walk? It’d be nice to enjoy more of London.” Secretly, Draco hoped it was because she wanted to spend more time with him.
What color of sky is inside this one?
She shook her head, “This isn’t for color,”
she said. “It’s for light. The light of the stars,
and the moon penetrating the night.”
Just a short walk across Tower Bridge, Draco and Hermione arrived at the waterfront Cantina Del Ponte. The restaurant was relatively quiet considering it was eight o’clock on a Wednesday night. Once the hostess sat them at their riverfront table, Draco and Hermione began to look over the rich menu.
Draco broke the silence, “Does anything look good to you?”
“Yeah, I think I’m going to have the linguine allo scoglio. Do you know what you’re having?”
“The merluzzo polenta burro e salvia is my favorite dish here. I get it everytime.”
“Oh, that sounds delicious. Baked cod is one of my favorites as well, but I’m always partial to pasta. I can’t say no to seafood pasta.”
“I’m not sure if you drink, do you want to order some wine? There’s great Pinot Grigio here.”
“A glass of wine sounds perfect.”
The waiter came to the table to explain the specials. Even though Draco and Hermione knew what they were having, they listened closely and nodded at all the correct moments.
The waiter asked, “Could I interest you two in a bottle of wine for the evening?”
Without missing a beat Draco replied, “We’d love a bottle of the 1998 Zind Humbrecht - Pinot Gris please.”
“Of course sir, I’ll be right back with that for you.”
As the waiter turned to retrieve the wine Draco had ordered, Hermione shouted in a whisper, “Malfoy that’s a 145 pound bottle of wine.”
“It’s a good wine.”
As the evening continued, the two talked about their workweeks and upcoming weekend plans. Once all their food had been eaten and the pinot had long been drank- they asked for the check.
“Whenever you’re ready.” The waiter left the bill on the table.
Draco reached for the bill and placed a credit card in the check presenter without even looking at it while Hermione tried to grab the check from him, clearing insisting she pay for herself.
“I’m not letting you pay for yourself, Granger.”
Slight blushing under the moonlight Hermione replied, “Thank you, Malfoy. I’ve had a lovely evening. I haven’t eaten at a place this nice in quite a while.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
“Why do you have a credit card?”
“I spend more time in Muggle London than you might think.”
As eleven o’clock rolled around, the two finally made their way to the front of the restaurant and bid their farewells to the maître d.
“Thank you, Alyssa, we had a lovely evening.”
Hermione whisper shouted again, “I’m pretty sure her name tag said Ale and not Alyssa.”
“Her name is definitely Alyssa. I know these sorts of things, Granger.”
Crossing the Tower Bridge once more, Hermione stopped to look out at the moonlight reflecting off the river. On cue, Moon River sung by Andy Williams began to play at a private party that had begun winding down at The Tower Hotel. Have I become a walking fucking cliche? Draco thought about it for only a second before saying sod it and embracing the cliche that his life had become.
Draco extended a hand to Hermione and asked, “Care for a dance?”
She put her hand on his and they began to dance in the twilight in the middle of Tower Bridge. They moved like lovers who had danced together for decades, never missing a step and always knowing where the other would move next before they did. As their budding relationship retrograded the waning moon that night, Draco and Hermione let the changing phases illuminate the light that was once held captive by the dark.
Sunrise!
We come at sunrise
to greet you.
We call you
at sunrise.
Father of the clouds
you are beautiful
at sunrise.
Sunrise!
“Would you like to walk around the city some more? I haven’t gotten to walk around London in years,” Hermione asked.
“Lead the way, Granger.”
Draco and Hermione wandered aimlessly around London, admiring the quiet city. Not quite the samba and most definitely not Portuguese, the conversation flowed mimicking River Thames.
“So, Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko? Which theme were you trying to use to heal my problems this time?” Draco asked while chuckling, knowing Hermione would blush.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Malfoy.”
“Tradition? Purity? Cultural Dominance? Hybridity?”
“If those themes are what resonated with you-”
“Granger, you’re not fooling anybody. I changed my mind about these things a long time ago, you don’t need to Death-Eater-rehab me through classic literature.”
Suddenly, the river stopped. It froze and so did they. Hermione spun to look at Draco, whipping him with her locks in the process.
“Is that seriously what you think, Malfoy?”
Not quite answering, Draco nodded his head slightly. Gesturing that is exactly what he thought she was doing.
"Lord of the Flies was the book I had been looking forward to reading in year 10 and I had to read it alone at Hogwarts instead of with people I had known since early childhood; that book signifies the moment I realized I had to pick a world because no one in my life understood the other. The Great Gatsby made 16-year-old Hermione realize that pretending to be someone I’m not is as good as dead. Ceremony was the first book I bought at Variabilis. They’re some of my favorites Malfoy and I gave them to you because I thought you would enjoy them.”
Stunned, Draco just stared at her as the pendulum on Big Ben swung back and forth. The pendulum swung right and Draco couldn’t stop thinking about how badly he wanted to grab her and kiss her; the pendulum swung left and Draco convinced himself that whatever weird friendship they had would be ruined if he did. The Nanny! Draco finally fucking remembered. The damn television show was called The Nanny. Drescher’s nasality snapped Draco out of his haze to see Hermione staring back at him.
“I’ve got an idea,” Draco announced.
“And what might that be?”
“It’s 6:30, it’s almost sunrise.”
“Yes, Malfoy. I’m aware.”
“Have you ever watched the sunrise from the London Eye?”
“It’s not even open, Malfoy.”
“Sometimes you forget that you’re a witch.”
With that, Draco dragged Hermione over to the base of the London Eye. They stopped at the ticket purchasing booth before casting an invisibility charm.
Hermione read the script of the ticket booth, “Dani’s Auction? Weird name don’t you think?”
“It’s been here forever; people stopped questioning when the era is going to end and an updated booth will replace it.”
Draco grabbed onto Hermione’s shoulder and apparated them to the carriage on the top of the London Eye. The view was incredible from 135 meters off the ground.
Sunrise,
accept this offering,
Sunrise.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Hermione exclaimed as the pitch-black night turned an array of shades of purple then hundreds of shades of orange.
The two friends sat in the carriage, a comfortable silence between them, and watched as the sky performed the only magic that Muggles could see. At exactly 6:58 am the colors were gone and the sky was bright, but the magic between them remained.
Already within an apparition zone, Draco and Hermione parted ways. Saying goodbye to the river where the sunset as they had all those years ago and rose again as they had mere months ago. There was no longer moonlight on the river, instead, rays of light illuminated River Thames.
“I- I had a wonderful time tonight, Malfoy.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
~*~
Overlooking the cityscape, Draco sat on his sofa with a cup of tea on the coffee table. Days had gone by and all Draco thought about was how badly he wanted to kiss her. He should have kissed her. No. He shouldn’t have. Should he have? All he knew is that he wanted to grab Hermione Granger and kiss her like in a Muggle movie. New routines were creeping into Draco’s life, he embraced this one, so he picked up his latest gift from Hermione and wrote a Bukowski poem on the cover page.
I want to be with you,
it is as simple, and as
complicated as that.
- Charles Bukowski
Morning had turned into afternoon and Draco got ready to meet Theo and his new boyfriend. He didn’t know much about the lad, but Theo seemed incredibly happy and that’s all he could hope for. The relationship was fairly new so instead of a public outing, Theo opted to have Draco over at Nott Manor for lunch. Promptly at quarter ‘till one, Draco stepped into the flew and called out for Nott Manor.
Look at this,
you half-breed!
When Draco arrived he saw Theo frantically trying to talk himself off a ledge. He put an arm on Theo’s shoulder to try to calm him down, which didn’t help much. He spun around and proceeded to stare at Draco as if he had seen the ghost of his father.
“Theo, what the fuck is the matter?”
“He’s- he’s-”
“Well, spit the damn thing out!”
“He’s Muggleborn.”
“Yes. And…?”
“I am unaware if you’re still a right arse or not.”
“I fell for Hermione fucking Granger. If I gave a shite about the Mudblood crap do you think I would have spent until sunrise with her on Thursday morning?”
“You what? We have to discuss this later. What the fuck mate. Did your owl go missing? I expect to know of such revelations—promptly.”
The childhood friends made their way into the dining room where Mopsy had prepared a lovely light lunch. Almost forgetting Draco was meant to meet the mysterious guy Theo met while shopping a few months ago, he walked into the dining room laughing at an off-handed remark Theo had just made. When the doors swung open, Draco saw a tall dark-haired man rise from the table and move to greet him.
“Bronson. Baldric Bronson.”
“Pleasure, mate. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”
In the two hours the three had had lunch, Draco learned that Bronson was in the process of opening his own restaurant in Diagon Alley.
“Do you have a name yet?” Draco inquired about the restaurant.
“The Blackbird,” Bronson responded.
“If you’re looking for staff, I know Theo needs something to do all day.”
“Fortunately for Theo I already have staff. Found an American chick, Steph, that puts on this horrendous British accent and expects people to believe she’s from London.”
Draco laughed and as the conversation continued he also learned that just last year Bronson lost his childhood best friend, Quigley, in an accident. Quigley had apparently been involved in the Muggle mafia and was caught leaking information to a rival gang. He was immediately killed for disloyalty and what Bronson referred to as, “being a snitch.”
“So just like that?” Draco questioned Bronson.
“Yeah, disloyalty is taken very seriously. None of them want a disloyal team member. Not even team members. Oddly enough, hiding from the government creates familial bonds. You don’t go behind the back of your family, especially not when it’s for selfish reasons.”
“Wow. He didn’t get any sort of mafia trial? They really just cut out his tongue and chained him to a cliff and let birds pick at his body? Like Prometheus?”
“The tongue was for snitching, but yeah, they really love their metaphors. Prometheus stole fire and gave it to humans; Quigley stole information on the whereabouts of mafia members in hiding and gave it to rival gang members. He claims he didn’t know they would get killed.”
“No disrespect. But that’s a load of shite.”
“Of course it is. Handing someone over to the side that wants to kill them is going to get them killed. He was an arse and a shithead for that one. Clearly did not think that through.”
Bidding the two farewell, Draco turned to wave before heading back into the floo to call out for his flat. It was obvious why Theo liked the guy. He was charming, funny, and overall smart. Blaise would love him as well, Draco was sure of it. But, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Hermione would love Bronson as well. He couldn’t stop thinking about that at all.
~*~
Vulgar as ever, Blaise divulged details of his most recent sexual escapades. Draco and Theo looked at each other with a knowing glance during the story knowing well the story itself lasted longer than he did. They let him revel in his fantasies. Blaise had yet to learn that things do not occur just because you think about them all day long.
Narcissa was just positively horrified.
Completely unaware of the room, Blaise continued his screenplay about the ménage à trois he allegedly had the previous evening. The story itself was promising—for a Muggle adult movie store. But for Blaise? He could always write a movie script, fund the movie, and then cast himself in it.
“Well, I’ll be goddamned!”
he said
“all in the same bed?"
“Yes, sir, this In’di’n
was grabbin’ white pussy
all night!"
"Shit, Chief.”
Narcissa was the one to finally snap Blaise out of his self-written erotic novel. Kindly suggesting that Blaise find a new career in the entertainment industry, she attempted to steer the conversation away from Blaise’s fantasy and her nightmare. Clearly unable to read the room that Saturday Blaise continued his ‘ story ’ as if he were listing out searchable tags on Muggle internet websites. Theo and Draco rolled their eyes as Blaise continued. As Mippy poured milk into their evening teacups, Blaise yammered on about this one girl was so tight he thought she was going to break his cock. Mippy yelped and dropped the milk causing it to spill everywhere.
“You made Mippy spill the fucking milk, mate,” Draco said angrily.
Theo chimed in, “It was Mickey’s Milk too. It’s my fucking favorite and now it’s all over the mahogany and not in my teacup.”
Without missing a beat, Blaise continued to his storytelling of his fairytale escapades. Mippy couldn’t stand it anymore so she ran back to the kitchens to wait out the remainder of his stories with her best friend—Herman. Ever since Dobby died, Herman always wore his socks and no one was really sure why, this earned her the nickname Sobby.
“Mate, if I have to hear about your cock for another minute while I am trying to eat my soup I will lose it,” Draco finally spoke up.
“Seriously mate, go have a wank in the bathroom or something. It’s been forty-five minutes.”
Sheepishly, Blaise removed himself from the dinner table and walked towards the Malfoy Manor first floor powder room.
Theo laughed, “Who’s mopping his jizz off the floor?”
______________________________________________________________________________
And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie
She wasn’t there. For the first time in over a year. She wasn’t there. Draco made his way to their bay window. Their? Yes. He could say it was their bay window. But, she wasn’t there. Reluctantly, Draco made his way back down the winding stairs and purchased a book to read before returning to the empty window. Barely an hour later, Draco rose and said goodbye to the Asier’s before returning to his flat.
Days of moping passed and Pansy had quite enough of it. Saturday evening rolled around and Pansy convinced Draco to go out to dinner to enjoy himself instead of meeting his mum and the boys like usual. For the end of February, the weather was nice and a simple warming charm would suffice for warmth. Pansy and Draco opted to eat outside on the patio at La Petite Grue en Papier. From the patio the friends had a great view of Diagon Alley; it was perfect for people watching. Pansy’s face immediately turned sour as they were sipping on their wine and discussing her latest business endeavor. Draco whipped his head around and that’s when he saw them.
Ten little Soldier boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were Nine.
Hermione was walking down the street. Her curls were bouncing as she stepped one foot in front of the other. Everything moved in slow motion.
Nine little Soldier boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were Eight.
She was smiling. Clearly the daughter of dentists, her smile was perfect. It lit up her enter face. Hermione could break hearts with that smile. She was already breaking his.
Eight little Soldier boys traveling in Devon;
One said he’d stay there and then there were Seven.
Her arm was looped in the crook of his. Not Draco’s. No. His. Ronald fucking Weasley. Hermione Granger was walking arm in arm with Ronald ogar looking, daft-headed, probably lasts even less than Blaise does, Weasley.
Seven little Soldier boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six.
Infectious laughter was all that Draco heard. Every other sound in Diagon Alley was drowned out by the sound of her laugh. It was a real laugh, not the kind of laugh one would use if whatever someone had said wasn’t all that funny. Ronald small dick, meathead, probably hasn’t read a damn book in his life, Weasley made Hermione laugh.
Six little Soldier boys playing with a hive;
A bumblebee stung one and then there were Five.
Draco couldn’t stand it anymore. He turned his head back to Pansy but it was already too late. His evening was shot. How could he have been so stupid? Of course, she was dating the Weasel.
Five little Soldier boys going in for law;
One got into Chancery and then there were Four.
Pansy grimaced again. Hermione, she could stand. Weasley? Absolutely not. Sensing that Draco was beginning to occlude, she grabbed his hand from across the table and gave it a big squeeze.
Four little Soldier boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three.
Holding onto Pansy’s hand helped. It kept Draco grounded. Pansy always knew exactly what to do when Draco found himself occluding. He knew that occluding would make everything worse later on but it was always a tempting option in the moment.
Three little Soldier boys walking in the zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were Two.
Hermione saw Draco. She dragged Ron over to the patio to say hello to Draco and by proxy, Pansy. Seeing the approaching couple, Pansy squeezed Draco’s hand tighter. A long night was ahead of Draco—a long night with copious amounts of firewhiskey.
Two little Soldier boys playing with a gun;
One shot the other and then there was One.
“It’s nice to see you, Malfoy,” Hermione spoke as if the words were being forced out of her.
“You as well, Granger. You remember Pansy?”
“Of course, nice to see you again.”
Draco nodded, “Weasley.”
“Malfoy,” Ron replied curtly.
“I’m gonna get us a table ‘Mione,” Ron said as he kissed her temple and went inside. Hermione smiled and nodded, acknowledging his statement.
One little Soldier boy left all alone;
He went out and hanged himself
Pansy sensed Draco’s growing anxiety and stepped in on his behalf, “Well, Granger, it was lovely seeing you again. I hope you have a great evening.”
Hermione nodded, looking down at Pansy’s hand clasping Draco’s, “Same for the two of you.”
Ron exited the restaurant telling Hermione they didn’t have any tables left and that they should try to go somewhere else for dinner. Pansy overheard, “Nonsense, we were just leaving anyway, have our table.”
“Are you sure?” Hermione looked skeptical.
“Positive,” Pansy replied and ushered for a waiter—she whispered in his ear to put their bill onto Draco’s tab and to seat Ron and Hermione at their table.
Draco and Pansy stood to exit and thanked the waiter for his help. Draco put his arm around her and whispered thanks to her for getting them out of the restaurant smoothly and quickly. When they reached the street, Draco did what he told himself he wouldn’t and shouldn’t do, he looked back. They were seated at his favorite patio table, she looked happy. Happy with him.
And then there were none.
~*~
He was an absolute fucking mess. Pansy removed his crystal scotch glass from his hands after his eighth glass of The Macallan Sherry Oak 12 Years scotch. She knew he would regret finishing a $2,000 bottle on losing to Ron Weasley. She knew she should’ve forced him to drink firewhiskey but he was adamant about opening Muggle scotch.
Screaming and punching walls didn’t help him. Draco wanted to feel anything but the pain in his chest. All the air had left his lungs—it loomed over his lungs, heart, and throat causing immense pressure. Immense pain. He couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt.
“Pans, I don’t know what to do.”
Pansy walked over to him and rubbed circles on his back, “Shh shhh Draco it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“I haven’t loved anyone since you.”
Without thinking, Draco grabbed the nape of Pansy’s neck and pulled her closer. He kissed her. It wasn’t a slow kiss or a passionate one—it was desperate. She kissed him back. All of his self-doubts and insecurities were poured into the kiss. Seemingly more desperate, Draco began unbuttoning his shirt and he lifted Pansy’s sweater over her head. They made their way to the couch as the scotch and kisses continued to heat the moment. Pansy paused.
“Draco. Draco, stop.”
Draco immediately paused and looked at Pansy, confusion in his eyes. Pansy could tell he was hurt, so she grabbed both sides of his face and looked him straight in the eyes.
“You don’t want this, Draco. You don’t want me. You don’t want this.”
Draco’s forehead fell against hers. They stayed like that for a few moments- resting their foreheads against one another.
“I don’t want to be alone,” Draco painfully admitted.
“Shh… Shh… Draco. You are not alone, Draco. I’m here. I’m always here.”
Without a second thought, Pansy grabbed Draco’s hand and led him up the stairs of his loft and to his bed. She undressed him and re-dressed him in pajamas. After tucking Draco under the covers, she found one of his t-shirts and slipped it over her head, and climbed into bed next to him. He immediately held her close. In order to calm him down, Pansy charmed the ceiling to look like the night sky.
“Draco, look up. It’s your favorite—Lyra.”
Draco looked to the ceiling and replied, “Thank you, Pans.”
“You’ll always have Lyra on Saturdays.”
“Lyra on my ceiling so I’ll never have to be alone on Saturdays?”
“I’m here, Draco. You are not alone. You never have to be alone. Not ever again. I’m here.”
That’s how the two friends fell asleep—with Pansy held as close to Draco as their bodies would allow. She meant it. He would never have to be alone again.
~*~
Wednesday came faster than Draco wanted it to. Refusing to break his routine, Draco walked up the stairs to his bay window. Was it his now? It didn’t feel like theirs anymore. As he approached, Draco noticed a package. Brown paper bag wrapping paper and a simple string tied off in a bow sat on the seat of the bay window. The closer he got, he realized it had to be a book. Malfoy was written in simple cursive in between the string. Immediately, the string and the wrapping paper were on the floor and Draco held a copy of And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie in his hands. Hermione. She dropped off a book for him.
Slipping into his pre-Hermione routine, Draco opened the book and read in the evening glow. Everything felt like pre and post-Hermione. Although a waxing moon signified intentions, Draco couldn’t seem to figure out Hermione’s. He saw more of her day side on Friday night. As the waxing moon illuminated him through the window, Draco couldn’t help but notice how wrong it felt to see the moon glow again when only a week ago they retrograded the shrinking illumination of this same moon.
Was what everyone said about retrograde true?
On his way out of Variabilis Books, he stopped to speak with Amanda and Irvin as he always did. They questioned him about Hermione’s whereabouts and he pretended his whole body didn’t sting. He felt like he was suffocating. Thomas J. Sennett rolled in his grave as Draco let Hermione control those bees. Thomas didn’t get stung for nothing, he was getting Vada’s mood ring. But, what was Draco getting stung for? Nothing heroic, that’s for sure.
~*~
Decisions had to be made. It was Monday and Draco didn’t know if he could handle her not showing. But, he also didn’t know if he could handle seeing her again. After work, Draco laid on the floor with his record player next to him and listened to The Misfits Box Set—channeling his inner Lilo. If anyone asked, Draco would blame Pansy for dragging him to the Muggle cinema to see Lilo and Stitch when she visited him during his travels. Secretly, he loved the movie.
From the floor, Draco looked out his window and stared at the moon just as he had every night before. Fuck the North Star, Draco hoped she was staring at the moon thinking of him too. He knew she wasn’t. Couldn’t. But, he hoped. The first quarter moon beckoned Draco to make a decision. Merlin, he needed Theo and Blaise to help get him off the sodding floor.
On cue with his thoughts, the floo roared, Theo and Blaise stepped into the living room of his flat. It took a few moments for Theo and Blaise to register what was occurring on the floor.
“Now this has reached a whole new level of pathetic,” Blaise roared when he looked at the floor to find Draco next to a record player.
“Get off the sodding floor, Draco. This is ridiculous,” Theo chimed in.
Reluctantly, Draco paused the music and lifted himself off the cold wood floor. As always, the men headed out to their favorite pub. Whenever one of them needed a pick me up, they headed to the pub—drinking, playing pool, and playing darts. After a few rounds of beers and pool, the Slytherins began to snack on peanuts before moving onto darts.
Finally asking the question of the hour, Theo inquired, “What’d Granger do that had you on the fucking floor mate?”
Draco glared at him, “She’s fucking dating Weasley.”
Both Theo and Blaise looked confused. “You’re sure of this?” Blaise inquired before taking another sip of his beer.
“I saw him kissing her fucking temple. They’re together,” Draco contorted.
Theo threw his dart and responded, “He’s way too big for his boots, mate.”
“Shite, I’m sorry,” Blaise responded before quickly grabbing the edge of the bar counter and grasping his chest.
“Fuck, Blaise. Is it your heart again?” Theo asked while clearly worried.
Blaise nodded before taking a seat in the barstool next to him. He stayed like this, one hand on his chest and the other grasping the counter, for a few minutes. Theo and Draco continued to exchange worried looks, knowing that Blaise had heart issues ever since they were kids. Sometimes Blaise’s arrhythmia landed him in St. Mungos for extended periods of time. Unfortunately, there were some things magic couldn’t fix.
Once Blaise got his heart rate under control the men decided to call it a night. After flooing back to Draco’s flat, they all bid one another their farewells. After Blaise floo’d back to Zabini Manor, Theo walked over to Draco who was conveniently pouring himself another drink.
“I’m really sorry about Granger, mate.”
“Thanks, Theo.”
“What’re you going to do now?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“You like her that fucking much? Already?”
“You haven’t seen the way she lights up a room.”
“Like the sun?”
“No you fucking arse. Like the moon. She’s the fucking moon. She’s the moonlight on a river.”
“I think that answers my question, you big fucking sap.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t write love poems to Bronson.”
Theo turned a bright shade of red, “Besides the point mate.”
“And the point is?”
“Go catch the moon.”
Theo let himself out and Draco sank into his bed and opened up his copy of And Then There Were None alongside his book of Bukowski poems. He flipped through the poems until finding the perfect one to copy onto the cover page of his murder mystery.
And The Moon and The Stars and The World
Long walks at night-
that’s what good for the soul
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
their beer-maddended husbands
- Charles Bukowksi
~*~
Instead of going home after work like he normally did on a Tuesday evening, Draco headed to Variabilis Books. The Asier’s were surprised to see Draco on a Tuesday but greeted him with a big smile without questioning his early arrival. Draco headed up to his bay window and deposited a piece of cardstock in the center of the cushions before promptly heading back downstairs and out the door to return to his flat.
__
Think I deserve Azkaban, Granger?
__
Seeing her again wasn’t an option. He couldn’t bear it. Draco’s inability to see the girl he had fallen for reading a book led him to deviate from his routine and read in the bay window during his lunch break on Wednesday. Instead of having a casual lunch with his mother like he normally did at lunch, Draco walked into Variabilis and waved to the Asier’s. Slightly confused at the smug looks on their faces, Draco headed for the stairs. Upon arriving at the bay window, book in tow, Draco noticed cardstock sitting on the cushions. He didn’t think anything of it. She hasn’t been here yet, he thought. As he was about to sit down, he noticed the handwriting on the cardstock wasn’t his own.
__
The murderer must always pay for their deed.
__
Cringing, but deeming this necessary, Draco ripped a piece of paper out of his brand new book and transfigured it into cardstock. He always carried a pen on him when he was out in Muggle London; they were much easier than ink and a quill. It took a few minutes for Draco to figure out how he intended to respond to her note.
__
Think I’ve got something in common with Wargrave? I didn’t actually kill Dumbledore; you know that right? Well- -guess Wargrave didn’t actually kill Seton either. The old bastard was as good as dead with or without me in that damn tower. But, you already knew that.
__
Pleased with his response, Draco opened his book and began to read for the next forty-five minutes. Work dragged on for the remainder of the day and Draco was itching to go back to his flat and definitely not think about Hermione for the rest of his evening. Still unable to bear the thought of having to face her, heartbroken and humiliated, he went back to his flat straight after work on a Wednesday for the first time in over a year. The sunset and the moon rose while Draco attempted to read. He couldn’t. Reading in the moonlight didn’t feel right. Not unless it was at Variabilis, especially on a Wednesday. For over an hour Draco contemplated going to the bookshop or not. Begrudgingly, he grabbed his coat and headed for his bay window.
When Draco arrived, it was close to closing but he knew the Asier’s always stayed well past closing and never minded him reading upstairs. They gave him another smug look on his way up the stairs; he couldn’t figure out why. Until he saw her. She was reading in the moonlight and she looked beautiful. Hermione was wearing her damn converse again with denims, no rips this time, and her Misfits t-shirt. He would’ve thought about how he had encountered another cliche but he couldn’t stop staring at the way the moon lit up her eyes in a way the sun wishes it could. Hermione’s eyes were still the amber Draco had always known but the moonlight caused the amber to darken- to reflect a deep orange so rich it looked like fire. Fires always burnt brightest when next to the moon, he thought. Her eyes were made from the sparks of a midnight fire.
“I’d say you’re more of a William Blore,” Hermione interrupted his train of thought.
“Now who did I plant fake evidence on, condemning them to their death?”
“Well, you can’t look at it so literally, Malfoy.”
“Pray tell, Granger.”
“Fake evidence could mean lots of things.”
“Again… pray tell, Granger.”
“Fake evidence. False signals. Incorrect messages. It’s the same thing once it’s all boiled down.”
“And who have I been sending what you call ‘false signals’ and ‘mixed messages’?”
“Me.”
Draco strode over to Hermione and rested one hand against the window frame, effectively towering over her. “And how have I been doing that?”
“Parkinson.”
“What about Pans?”
“I didn’t know you two were still together. Quite frankly, I’m impressed you’ve been with the same girl since 16.”
“Pardon me, but, what the fuck are you on about?”
“At La Petite Grue en Papier, we ran into each other.”
“Yes, while you were on your date with Weasley.”
Hermione laughed, “Gods no. Ron and I broke up years ago. We broke up around the same time Harry and Ginny did.”
“Do you regularly get kissed by your ex-boyfriends?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“He kissed you. On the temple.”
“I didn’t even notice, honestly.” Hermione collected her things and snuck underneath Dracos outstretched arm, “I better be going, but I hope you enjoyed your date with Parkinson. Tell her hello for me, would you?”
As Hermione walked away, Draco abruptly grabbed her arm. “Pans and I haven’t been together since we both left the country after the war.”
This confession made Hermione spin around, “Do you make it a habit to hold hands with all your ex-girlfriends?” Hermione smirked as the sarcasm dripped from her tongue.
Taking in a deep breath and preparing himself for his next statement, “Pansy grabs my hand and squeezes it every time she notices me trying to occlude.”
Hermione was dumbfounded. She stared at Draco with her jaw unhinged. Draco walked forward, causing Hermione to stumble backwards.
With every step, Draco spoke, “I. Haven’t. Dated. Pansy. Since. I. Was. A. Teenager.”
Colliding with the bookshelf behind her, Hermione gasped and looked up at Draco. Hermione was over a head shorter than him causing Draco to place one hand on the bookshelf and learn towards her. They stared into one another's eyes as their breathes hitched. Her eyes were definitely on fire. His eyes felt like they might be too.
Draco looked at the books surrounding them and noticed an interesting title, Constellations and Roses by Brita Swift. Romance novels, everywhere. He laughed. How fucking cliche. For the first time, Draco didn’t care about being a cliche. He embraced it.
“Sod it,” Draco exhaled before placing his other hand to rest on the side of Hermione’s face.
He leaned in and he kissed her. Fireworks erupted, he knew they would. Without missing a beat, Hermione matched his pace and threw her arms around his neck. Ember may have created her eyes, but, together they created a wildfire. They were self proclaimed pyromaniacs. Fixated purely on the euphoria between them, they deepened their kiss. Draco and Hermione burned through their pasts. The fire cleansed them, removing all impurities. It refined them, just as the moon did. A waxing gibbous. Draco wasn’t wrong, fire looked much better in the moonlight.
Santa Ana winds picked up and their fire blazed on. Draco moved his hand off the bookshelf and grabbed the nape of Hermione’s neck. Her head fell back against the books as she moaned into his mouth. This only encouraged Draco more. Seizing the opportunity, Draco entangled his tongue with hers. What they created wasn’t a smolder. It was a flare. Smoke didn’t surround them just, the pyromaniacs’ dream, the flames of inferno.
Notes:
A/N:
Mippy is borrowed, with permission, from the lovely Julie aka Lovesbitca8.
La Petite Grue en Papier = The little paper crane in French.
Variabilis = Changing phases in Latin
I hope everyone found all the Easter eggs hidden throughout.
Links to songs/albums referenced:
Moon River: https://open.spotify.com/track/0hUz4u3uxVm8Yz9WQHOgr1?si=98242e8eb8b54401
Everything’s Alright: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrrM6Qg2Dwg
Attraction: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ix-QW-BShPY
Mas Que Nada: https://open.spotify.com/track/0Vl9aGb0dmeiCQ2ATgNK2B?si=238f820a76694c92
The Misfits Box Set: https://open.spotify.com/album/6vZ6KNlP8hReYxJVuU7G42?si=MqocYp5zSZe7j16m_pcuzQ
Chapter 2: Perihelic Opposition
Notes:
Huge thanks to my incredible beta miss @tomridswhorcrux! She really was my hero today.I couldn't have done this without her.
TW // Very brief mention of suicidal thoughts. Nothing is described in detail or depicted graphically.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Draco came up for air first. He put his hand back against the books, panting, he placed his forehead on top of Hermione’s curls. It was intimate. Maybe too intimate? Portugese filled his ears, his lungs, and his heart. He was in Rio; the samba had returned. It was different this time, the beat started off slow as his breathing returned to normal. Percussion didn’t take over. The rhythm remained steady. Água de Beber by Quarteto Jobim-Morelenbaum moved through his body in B minor. Something was different. Almost off. It was subtle, but something was off. Instead of beating to Jobim’s 82 beats per minute in A minor, he sambaed with the increased tempo of 150bpm. Even with the increased tempo, he remained in control. Bossa Nova turned into a smooth Jazz as the tenor sax shined through its solo. This dance—Draco could move with Hermione to for the rest of his life. It was calming, that’s what was different, he was calm.
Hermione spoke first smiling, “And then there were Two.”
Draco grinned and leaned in to whisper, “And then there was One,” and he kissed her again.
A tenor sax solo guided their second kiss. Running his hands along her body, Draco played the saxophone pearls, his slender hands using firm pressure when he wanted the octave key to soar but light when he wanted to loosen the ligature and allow the reed to vibrate freely.
It had come about
exactly in the way
things happened in books.
Post kiss, the pair walked out of Variabilis towards the apparition point. Draco and Hermione walked closer than they ever had before while still remaining apart. Silence filled their steps, it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. No. It was a silence of questions left unasked and moments to remain unharmed by potential harsh truths.
Once they reached the apparition point, Hermione’s curls spun as she turned to say goodbye, “See you next Wednesday?”
“How about Tuesday? There’s a new restaurant opening in Diagon Alley.”
“What time?”
“Eight?”
“Eight works. What’s the place called?”
“The Blackbird?”
“I love that Beatles song.”
“I knew you would. Goodnight, Granger.”
~*~
Without missing a beat, Draco returned home and immediately floo’d to Nott Manor. The whole place was dark when Draco arrived; he immediately walked into Theo’s bedroom.
“Theo. Theo. Get the fuck up.”
Theo stirred and rolled over in bed—as well as another body. Theo sat up and rubbed his eyes, clearly confused.
“Draco, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’ll tell you once we are at Blaise’s. We have to hurry so get your shit and get the fuck up.”
Theo rose from the bed and went to throw on pants and a shirt. His pace was groggy and Draco rocked back and forth on his heels waiting.
“Oh, Bronson. I’m going to need a reservation for two for Tuesday. Think you can get me the nicest table?”
“At Blackbird?”
“That is why I’m asking you .”
In more time than Draco would have liked, Theo arrived at his side, clothed and ready to floo to Zabini Manor. Both the men bid Bronson a farewell and promptly entered the floo. Blaise was in the sitting room, not lasting when Draco and Theo arrived.
After Blaise situated himself and joined his friends in the foyer he asked, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I kissed Granger,” Draco nearly jumped with excitement.
At the same time, Theo and Blaise replied, “You did what?”
“I went to Variabilis tonight and while I was there Granger and I kissed and we’re going to dinner together at The Blackbird on Tuesday night.”
“I feel like Steph, but, tell us everything,” Blaise remarked after pouring the men some firewhiskey to celebrate.
Draco looked at Blaise with a confused expression, “Who the fuck is Steph?”
“From The Blackbird.”
It was Theo’s turn to be confused, “How do you know Bronson’s employee?”
“We’ve been fucking,” Blaise shrugged his shoulders.
“When the fuck did this happen and why haven’t you told either of us?” Draco inquired.
“I did. I told you two at the dinner where Mippy spilled the milk.”
Theo gasped, “That was real?”
“Yeah, the ménage à trois, it was fantastic. I’ve been seeing her casually since. Her fake British accent is honestly, hot?”
Draco looked at Theo who looked at Draco. A thousand words exchanged between glances. They were going to the source to confirm this one—Bronson.
“You still don’t believe me. Dicks.”
The three erupted in laughter and Draco filled them in on everything happening with Hermione. He made sure to leave the cliche moments out because Blaise was meant to be the laughing stock of the emerald trio and he intended to keep it that way.
~*~
Lunch with Narcissa always included tea. She absolutely loved tea. Couldn’t go a moment without it. When Draco floo’d into Malfoy Manor to see his mother for lunch, Mippy promptly greeted him and show him to the small dining room. Narcissa stood to greet her son, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek, before gesturing for him to join her at the table.
“How have you been, my dragon?”
“You were meant to stop calling me that ages ago mother.”
“You will always be my dragon.”
Sipping on his tea Draco replied, “I’ve been well.”
“Just well?” Narcissa lifted the teacup to her lips before smirking.
“I've been really well. Is that what you’d like to hear?”
After setting down her cup Narcissa inquired, “Shall I be expecting a date on your arm for the Summer Solstice Ball?”
Draco nearly choked on his tea. Setting down his cup and patting his lips with his napkin he replied, “I have no idea what you’re on about.”
“Blaise tells me more than you know. He comes around quite often.”
“Godric please tell me you aren’t spending time with Blaise.”
Narcissa let out a laugh, “Merlin, no. He’s in need of a mother right now. His heart is getting worse as you’re well aware. He’s been seeing some American girl. Steph? I think it was Steph.”
“So he’s really not lying about that one?”
“He’s not. I’ve invited them over for tea tomorrow. He really likes this one. I also met Bronson over the weekend. Theo is incredibly happy, it makes me happy.”
“Yeah, I really like Bronson. He’s good for Theo.”
As Mippy brought out their cottage pies Narcissa inquired further, “Are you going to tell me about her or am I going to have to find out everything from Thing 1 and Thing 2?”
Draco groaned as he poked at his pie, “How much do you know?”
“Enough to be disappointed you haven’t come to me sooner.”
Draco dropped his head into his hands and whispered, “You’d be disappointed either way.”
Narcissa reached across the table to grab Draco’s hands, causing him to look up at her, “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not disappointed. Draco—look at me. You need to be the one to say it. It’s okay. It’s okay, my dragon,”
“I fell for Hermione Granger.”
The chair slid against the wooden floors. Narcissa rose from her seat and walked to Draco and gestured for him to stand as well. Finally she spoke, “I hope she catches you.”
~*~
Pansy arrived at Draco’s flat on Sunday afternoon to choose his outfit for Tuesday. Draco insisted he could choose clothing on his own, Pansy vehemently disagreed. It took nearly two hours of sifting through Draco’s colorful wardrobe to land on the Draco classic—black slacks, a black button-up, and a black suit jacket.
“Draco, I’m absolutely famished,” Pansy drew the back of her hand to her forehead and sighed.
“Okay, Daisy Buchanan.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing, Pans.”
“Granger?”
“Granger.”
Instead of getting the usual French cuisine, Draco and Pansy opted to try a new restaurant instead. The Malford. It was a ‘hole in the wall’, much to Pansy’s dismay, but the food was delicious. Draco opted to order their Neo Margarita pizza, a twist on the classic margarita pizza, it featured san marzano ‘polpa’, fior di latte, basil crumb, parmigiano, and basil. In the spirit of venturing out, Pansy opted for the Fungi pizza, which was topped with seasonal mushrooms, fontina, and carmelized onions.
The childhood friends turned lovers turned friends again chatted as they walked along the sidewalk eating their strawberry ice creams. Strawberry was Draco’s favorite, and it was Pansy’s too, although Draco was convinced it was just because of the color.
Quite abruptly, a man bumped into Draco’s shoulder on the street causing him to look back. A display outside a bookshop he’d never patronized before caught his eye. Bright pink hair. Once he turned around to continue walking he couldn’t remember the name of the author. All he remembered was her hair. Something about a rock? A tree? He couldn’t be certain. Peculiar name but I’m also named Draco Malfoy so I can’t be one to judge, he thought.
Draco held his breath, stretching all his scars, and continued forward. No matter how many times he told himself last year to continue walking up those stairs, to not look back, he did anyways. This time, he’d finally have to stop looking back. She was right in front of him.
~*~
On March 14, 2006, the night sky was illuminated by the full moon. Draco stood outside The Blackbird waiting for Hermione. In the first quarter, he’d made his decision. Under the full moon, Draco set his intentions. As the clock struck eight, Merlin he was a fucking cliche, he saw her. Hermione wore a floor-length sleeveless dress with silver embellishments that laid perfectly embroidered on a sheer fabric. Her nude slip beneath the fabric followed the curves in her frame. Her back was exposed, not too low, but just enough so Draco could see the dip in her spine. The u-shaped neckline exposed her collarbones and a modest amount of cleavage.
__
She looks like the moon, was Draco’s first thought.
__
In an attempt not to stutter Draco cleared his throat, “You look beautiful, Granger.”
Hermione’s cheeks turned rosy. A rose. Yes, an absolute rose. She smiled, “Thanks, Malfoy. You look quite good in a suit.”
When the two walked into The Blackbird for their first real date, Steph greeted them. Quickly searching for Bronson, Draco looked around the room but was unsuccessful in locating him.
“Malfoy for two,” Draco told the maître d.
Steph laughed which confused Draco, “Steph. It’s nice to finally meet you, Draco.”
“Damn. So, it really is true?”
As Steph walked them to their table she commented, “When you see Narcissa again please give her my best.”
Just loud enough for the three of them to hear Draco whispered, “If you said ‘Ello governor I love tea and crumpets’ you might sound more British than you do right now.”
Hermione burst out laughing. Before containing herself, she snorted. As they reached the back of the restaurant, where they would be seated, Steph placed their menus on the table.
Just as she was about to leave, Hermione whispered in Steph’s ear, “Whoever you’re fucking, for your sake, I hope they like the bedroom to be avant garde.”
Bronson had clearly gone above and beyond for their reservation. Their private room mimicked a wine cellar, with hundreds of wine bottles placed within the wall. The one glass door was delicately frosted and complimented the decorum of the room.
“Wow, Malfoy, I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“You’ve never been in a private room before, old sport?”
Hermione giggled, “You’d make a good Gatsby.”
Draco pretended to be offended, “How dare you make such a rude comparison.”
Just as Hermione was asking Draco about what he recommended, Bronson entered their private room to check in on them and ensure they were enjoying the restaurant.
“Bronson, I’d love for you to meet Hermione Granger. Granger, this is my best friend's boyfriend, Bronson. He’s the owner and head chef.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Bronson.”
“Likewise, cupcake.”
Draco turned to Hermione and asked, “Do you have any dietary restrictions?”
“If it walks, I won’t eat it. Other than that, I’ll eat anything”
“Perfect,” Draco turned to Bronson, “We’ll take a bottle of the Goût de Diamants and give us four courses to pair with that please.”
Slightly baffled at the request Bronson replied, “Of course, Draco. Theo always says you never fail to surprise him. I’ll have to let him know that I agree.”
A server poured Draco and Hermione their champagne and promptly left the bottle on a side table in the corner of their room. Once the server was out of earshot, Hermione leaned in and asked, “Is that a Swarovski crystal embedded into the bottle?”
“It is.”
“Draco—what does Goût de Diamants mean in English?”
“Taste of Diamonds.”
Hermione nearly fell out of her seat. It took a moment before she could find the words, “This bottle is worth what? 1 million pounds? 1.2 million?”
“1.5 million. But, who's counting,” Draco said nonchalantly.
Hermione gasped, “I can’t afford this nor accept this.”
“Hermione, relax, it’s my treat. This won’t hurt my vaults I assure you.”
Before Hermione could retort, a server brought out their first course. They drank expensive champagne and ate glazed beet and burrata toast. The server explained to them that Bronson boiled the beets and then cooked them again in sherry vinegar and sugar. Their second course consisted of a chilled peach soup with fresh goat cheese. Bronson used peaches marinated with dried apricots, honey, vinegar, and olive oil before pureeing the mixture into the base of the soup.
Bronson curated a delicate lobster pasta served in a creamy red sauce for their third course. The sauce consisted of three whole garlic cloves, taken out before adding the noodles, cherry tomatoes, salt, pepper, basil, lobster, and his personal secret tomato sauce base.
Conversation flowed easily through their first three courses. Their souls were created from the fabric of the universe, tied together, potentially by the same star. Somehow, a star grew the atoms that lived in both of them. The natural pull they felt made sense; they were made up of the same stardust. The moon looked out for her children, giving them space to grow and pulling them together when they were ready for one another. She hid their scars within her lava fields—maria Latin for sea. Four billion years ago, the moon suffered a trauma much like the lovers sipping champagne, giant asteroids burrowed holes into her crust. The fragile molten rock bubbled to the surface so it could cool and harden, protecting herself, just as Draco and Hermione had to all those years ago. No one faulted the moon for doing what she needed to keep herself safe, her craters added to her beauty, the same way the moon understood Draco and Hermione kept themselves safe—the scars floating across their skin only added to their beauty.
Taking a sip of his last glass of champagne, Draco grabbed the chocolate covered strawberry in front of him and whispered, “Open up, Granger.”
Hermione giggled and obliged. The delicate and hardened dark chocolate landed on her tongue, crackling between the weight of her teeth, while the fresh strawberry filled her mouth with a refreshing sweetness.
“Draco, open your mouth.” Hermione placed the dessert on his tongue and watched as he bit down, still holding the strawberry stem between her fingers. She shuttered.
On their way out, Draco and Hermione made sure to thank Bronson for a lovely evening and wave a friendly goodbye to Steph. In true gentlemanly fashion, Draco guided Hermione down the streets of Diagon Alley with his hand barely gracing the skin on her back. They walked all the way back to her flat in the Wizarding part of London. Once again, Draco put his jacket around Hermione to keep her warm.
“Are you sure?”
“I can last without a suit jacket for awhile, you look like you’re freezing. Take it. It’s yours.”
Hermione hugged Draco’s suit jacket around herself until they reached the door for her flat. Hermione lived in a beautiful Victorian flat on the outskirts of Wizarding London. She preferred to be adjacent to ‘the action’ as she called it. Unravelling herself, Hermione handed Draco’s suit jacket back to him.
After putting on his suit jacket, Draco looked down to stare into Hermione’s eyes. Fire. Fire in the moonlight again. It was then that Draco realized he was standing at her doorstep, looking into her eyes, wanting to kiss her. A fucking cliche. What a fucking cliche.
“I had a wonderful time together Hermione,” before her parted lips could utter a syllable, Draco leaned in and kissed her.
Supernova. Kissing her felt like a supernova. Light and colors burst around them as they exploded. Draco and Hermione had one thing that a supernova didn’t—this was their beginning and not their end.
______________________________________________________________________________
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Work dragged on. Draco kept looking at the clock, counting down the minutes until he could leave work and make his way to Variabilis. Without bidding his co-workers farewell, Draco bolted out the door, and went to his flat to change out of his work clothes. Keeping it casual, he changed into dress trousers and a black button-up shirt. His Malfoy signet ring remained on his ring finger.
Hermione was waiting for him in their bay window when he ascended the stairsteps. A brown paper package tied off with twine was sitting next to her. Draco watched her look out the window, he hoped she was staring at the moon, she looked beautiful. For years, Draco wished someone would smile when they saw him. She didn’t just smile, all her features lit up and her eyes turned to flames. Sadly, Draco didn’t notice. He was too mesmerized by her to notice that he was the only person she smiled like this for.
Hermione extended her arm, “I think you’re really going to like this one.”
Like a wizard getting their first wand, Draco tore open the packaging, “The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger?”
They sat together, squished against the bay window, and read for hours. Occasionally, one would look up to check on the other. Neither noticed. It wasn’t until Hermione drifted her attention to the window that conversation struck.
Longingly, Hermione looked outside with her head rested against the window, “Do you ever look at the moon?”
A slight blush rose to his cheeks while his lips turned upward just slightly, “All the time, Granger.”
For the first time, Hermione turned her head and leaned in to kiss Draco. It was faint, but there was a sound, it wasn’t Portuguese. It was French. The music flowed at an 11A camelot; in all honesty, Draco stopped feeling the beat through his body. All he felt were the words.
Dans mon esprit tout divague In my mind everything goes wild
Je me perds dans tes yeux I lose myself in your eyes
Je me noie dans la vague I drown myself in the vagueness
de ton regard amoureux Of your loving gaze
I only want your soul
Going wild in my skin
For the first time, Draco fell in love with the sound. The magical being, that is time, stopped for them. He gave them what others sought more of for centuries. Time understood what he had taken from them years ago, and allowed them mere minutes of what they had missed.
Once time had revoked his small gift, Hermione came up for air in between kisses, “Take. Me. Home.”
Pulling away to look at her Draco responded, “Y—You want to come to my flat?”
Hermione nodded and stood, grabbing his hand to tug him along. Draco followed, one hand clutching hers and the other his book. Neither bothered to look for the Asier’s to say goodbye. Hermione made a left turn after exiting Variabilis. Before she could get too far, Draco grabbed the tips of her fingers, causing Hermione’s curls to spin while she turned her head to look back at him. Clearly puzzled, she waited for him to speak.
Draco cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed, “It’s a right. To get to my flat. It’s towards the right and not the left.”
“But the apparition point is that way,” Hermione pointed in the direction she was previously headed.
“I know,” Draco replied sheepishly.
The walk from Variabilis to Draco’s flat passed quickly. They arrived at the entrance of Draco’s building, The Blur, when Hermione stood flabbergasted.
“You live in Knightsbridge? Y—You live in Muggle London?”
Draco nodded, and Hermione withheld her inquiry. By the time Draco’s door opened, they had tangled their limbs. Orange walls and a zebra printed couch wouldn’t have caught Hermione’s eye. Nothing mattered. Nothing except them.
A fucking cliche. Of course, another fucking cliche. Draco allowed himself the thought for only a moment as shoes were kicked off and outer coats left on the stairs leading to his bed. Gracefully, Hermione fell on top of his king-sized bed. She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt at the foot of the bed before climbing towards her. Draco’s hands laid on either side of her head when he leaned down to kiss her again.
Slowly, Draco kissed either side of her jaw causing Hermione to tilt her head back, exposing her neck to him. Every kiss left on her neck, throat, and clavicle was unhurried. Although time didn’t grant them any extra moments, Draco didn’t want to rush. He wanted to remember this.
Hermione felt a cold rush as Draco placed his hand on the side of her neck. The Malfoy signet ring caused goosebumps to radiate throughout her body. Slightly gracing her sides, Draco slid his fingers just under the hem of her shirt. Hermione nodded, giving him permission to remove it. Slender fingers lightly floated over her while her shirt found its proper place on the floor. Leaning back to fully look at her, Draco cussed under his breath.
“Hermione, you are so fucking beautiful,” were the last words that flowed from his lips before they set out on a more important task.
Teasing her, Draco graced his fingers over her silk bra. Immediately, her nipples hardened as she moaned. Hermione arched her back, signaling Draco to remove her bra. He didn’t oblige. Instead, he kneaded her breasts while licking and sucking at the junction between her shoulder and neck. Hermione’s moans only encouraged him further. After adequately devouring her neck and shoulders, Draco moved towards her breasts and began sucking her nipples through the fabric of her bra. Giving in to her arch, Draco unclasped her bra with one hand and threw it across the room.
As Draco looked down at a bare-chested Hermione, he whispered to himself, “Putain, tu es céleste, toi.”
Not even caring what he said, Hermione moaned hearing the French pour from his lips. In response, she grabbed his face, pulling him closer for a kiss. Neither of their tongues danced, their hands were too busy exploring one another's body for them to waltz.
Ensuring pleasure, Draco slowly pulled off her skirt and knickers. He lowered himself down and whispered in her ear, “Je veux te goûter.”
Hermione shivered against the soft bamboo sheets. Draco sensually bit and tugged Hermione’s earlobe while his hot breath sent shivers down her spine. A trail of hot kisses covered her body. Instead of playing anymore with her breasts, Draco let his hot breath cause Hermione to vibrate in anticipation.
Before continuing, he looked up at her seeking final approval. Her eager nod gave Draco everything he needed. Letting up on the teasing, Draco immediately sucked on her clit causing Hermione to gasp. With one hand, he held her hips down, and the other stroked the inside of her thigh as he worked at her clit.
“La meilleure chose que j'ai jamais goûtée,” Draco moaned against her clit.
The combination of Draco’s words and expert tongue drove Hermione wild. Her hair was spread out all over the pillow, skin flushed from pleasure, and body on fire. Once he slid two fingers inside of her, curling them and gently stroking her g-spot, she reached her climax. The bucking of her hips and increased moans signaled to Draco she was close.
Without letting up on the speed of his fingers or pattern of his tongue, Draco moaned against her, sending shockwaves throughout her body, “Jouie pour moi.”
Draco let Hermione fuck herself against his fingers as he continued lapping his tongue while she rode out the tail end of her climax. Before Draco could speak, Hermione attacked his neck. She marked the spot just behind his ear, under his jawline, and against his shoulders. His trousers were still on and she could feel how hard he was against her thigh. Carefully, she slid her hands down his Michelangelo sculpted torso, and unbuckled his belt. Metal clanked against the floor while Hermione was palming Draco’s cock. He couldn’t help but roll his hips into her hand, he was aching .
Eye contact and a nod signaled Draco to remove his trousers and boxer briefs. A sudden gasp caused Draco to panic. He knew he was big; he had always known he was big. But, Hermione was smaller than any woman he’d ever been with before.
Meeting his eyes Hermione spoke, “You’re just—huge.”
Draco chuckled, there had been a few women who couldn’t handle eleven inches. He never faulted them but it always reminded him of the jingle Pansy would sing to him in 6th year to try to make him laugh.
“We can stop. We don’t have to continue.”
“No—no. I want this. I’ve never been with anyone as big as you before.”
“It’s an honor to be your first,” he smirked.
Easing back into their rhythm, they kissed sloppily. Nothing about their kiss was rushed, it was slow and messy—like they had a lifetime together to enjoy this kiss. To ensure Hermione could take him, Draco pumped his fingers in and out of her before lining himself up. As the tip of his cock entered Hermione, both of their moans echoed off one another. He paused a few times to allow her to adjust to his size. Once he finally reached the hilt, he felt pure bliss.
“Is this okay for you?” Draco asked.
Hermione nodded, “Yeah, you can move.”
The pace was slow and deliberate. Each stroke ended in a louder gasp from Hermione and a guttural moan erupted from the back of Draco’s throat. Their eyes stayed locked on one another's except for the occasional moan that caused their heads to tilt back. Quite quickly, Hermione’s eyes went wide and she shattered beneath him. Never letting up, Draco continued to fuck her through her orgasm.
Growing closer himself, Draco’s hand rested against Hermione’s cheek while his thumb moved back and forth over her bottom lip. With every stroke, the cool rush of the signet ring against her caused Hermione to shudder.
1,000 words would never capture how beautiful Hermione looked beneath him. No amount of words could do her justice. Flushed skin, wild and tangled hair, sweat lining her forehead, lips parted, and eyes wide—Draco didn’t think anyone could possibly become more perfect, more beautiful. Not even a picture could do her beauty justice.
Sliding his hand between them, Draco shifted his signet ring and pressed it against her clit. With one finger, Draco pressed his family crest against Hermione’s cunt, with another he applied pressure to the sensitive skin and nerves around where his cock slid in and out of her.
He whispered, “Allez, un de plus pour moi.”
No one could be sure if it was the ring or the romance language dripping from his tongue, but Hermione came for a third time that evening. Draco tried to last through her orgasm, to let her ride it out for as long as possible, but he couldn’t.
Hermione moaned, “Draco.”
One word. One word caused Draco to look into her ears and bear his soul to him—to let her see the pure ecstasy she gave him. “Fuck, Hermione,” Draco came with a shout while staring into the eyes where flames roared with no sign of cease fire.
Panting, Draco kissed her forehead and rolled off of Hermione. For a moment, both of them stared at the ceiling.
They allowed their bodies to disintegrate, to return to the atoms that formed them. Together, they were bodies of stardust, pressed together but not by force. Once fully intertwined, the hydrogen and helium compressing inside them created a beautiful array of colors. Everywhere. Cosmic rays blended all of their pasts, fusing together, they created interstellar gas. This was their beginning.
Without saying a word, Draco rolled over to grab his wand before changing charming the ceiling above them into the night sky. He added the moon and the stars, Draco and Lyra, before finally adding the constellation Delphinus.
Hermione inquired, “Delphinus?”
“Delphin was Poseidon's messenger.”
Accepting she’d have to inquire about yet another thing later, Hermione nodded and headed towards his restroom. “Mind if I have a shower?”
“Of course. The towels are in the—”
“Care to join me?”
Draco nodded before following Hermione into the shower. As he was putting on boxer briefs again, preparing to sleep, he assumed Hermione was going to get dressed and head to her flat. Nothing sounded better than her falling asleep in his arms. Realistic. He told himself. You have to be realistic. To his surprise, Hermione sheepishly asked to borrow a shirt. Ecstatic, Draco grabbed her one of his black t-shirts before sliding into bed.
Their bodies fit perfectly together, like the Earth and moon in orbit, never to be separated. He held her close, almost afraid that if he didn’t he would wake up from this dream. Every moment where Draco didn’t know what the future held was worth it, having Hermione fall asleep in his arms made every shite day in the war worth it.
As he woke on Thursday, Draco kissed Hermione’s forehead while she was still fast asleep. He smiled against her curls as she lightly twitched in her sleep. Although the waning gibbous moon wouldn’t take over for the sun, lighting the sky, for many hours, Draco couldn’t help but thank the cosmos. Gratitude. Draco Malfoy felt fucking grateful.
Slowly waking up and turning around to face him, Hermione smiled at Draco. Her freckles kissed her nose and cheeks while the flames never left her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile back. He was fucking grateful.
“Good morning, Draco.”
~*~
Saturday morning consisted of Draco wandering the streets of London in search of a record shop. The air was warm for late March so the streets were packed. Everyone was enjoying the rare sunny day. Stoke Newington wasn’t Draco's usual neighborhood of choice but he knew the shops would have the kinds of records he was looking for.
After an hour of wandering, Draco stumbled upon the exact type of store he was looking for. The shop window was lined with records so old they looked like they had been well-loved by someone’s dad in the 70s. Draco looked up at the sign before entering, Research Purposes, he laughed at the name. It was kind of perfect.
He thumbed through the hundreds of records inside the small shop until he found the records he was searching for. Draco chose to purchase four records, four seemed like a great number. The first album he picked up was the self-titled album The Beatles.
Inside the shop, a record played while customers browsed. Draco hadn’t heard any of the songs before. The alternative rock flooded his ears with drums, keyboards, and guitars. He couldn’t help but wander to the cashier to inquire about the music, “Excuse me, uhm, Jas,” Draco checked her nametag and then continued, “What’s the name of the album playing?”
Jas replied, “Oh, that’s Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus .”
Draco nodded and turned to find the record amongst the stacks. His next decision was harder than the first two. Draco wanted to branch out and he wouldn’t allow himself to buy two records from the same band. Finally, he settled on Queen’s Night At The Opera. It only had five songs on the album, but this choice was the easiest for Draco, he plucked Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd from the stacks and headed towards Jas to pay.
Returning to his roots, Draco pulled the record from its sleeve and placed the album on the platter before moving the tonearm to let the music play. Once the gothic rock melodies filled his flat, he laid on the floor and listened.
Hours passed as the spinning of the record was the only life within the room. All Draco could do was lay down and listen. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds produced a double record, one side was Abattoir Blues while the other was The Lyre of Orpheus. Lot’s of serious contemplation led Draco to decide he preferred The Lyre of Orpheus. Disc 2 was a cow in a flowery meadow. It was gentle, soft. The second disc was still alternative, but it had more of a melodic quality than its counterpart. Abattoir Blues was a rock record, you could feel a microphone stand being dragged across the stage. He loved it, but not as much as he loved the lyre. Babe, You Turn Me On remained on constant replay for the rest of the afternoon. Draco charmed the record to play the song on repeat.
~*~
Saturday night dinner with Narcissa and the Slytherins seemed more formal than it usually was. Mippy and Herman prepared a four-course meal and set the table in the formal dining room. When Blaise and Draco arrived they were more than confused. Theo paced back and forth in the foyer. He kept running his fingers through his hair and pacing. Non-stop fucking pacing.
Narcissa joined the boys at the table and attempted to make light conversation, sensing some sort of unease within Theo. Blaise and Draco tried to compensate for Theo’s lack of social skills but the entire interaction was forced and beyond uncomfortable. During the entree Theo finally spit it out, “I’m going to ask Bronson to marry me.”
I think that one of these days…you’re going
to have to find out where you want to go.
And then you’ve got to start going there.
But immediately.
You can’t afford to lose a minute.
Not you.
Everyone’s forks clanked against the fine china. All eyes were on Theo, waiting for him to continue, When he continued to sit glued to his chair and wide-eyed, Narcissa stepped in.
“I think that’s lovely, Theo.”
Narcissa made sure not to comment on the rush, she knew he didn’t need that. Although they had barely been dating a year, she knew how much Bronson meant to Theo. Narcissa could see the sparkle in Theo’s eyes that hadn’t ever shined before.
It was Draco’s turn next, “You sure, mate?”
Theo nervously chuckled, “I’m not getting any younger.”
“You’re twenty-six,” Blaise retorted.
“Look, I know we haven’t been dating for very long. I’m not going to get sappy but I love him. I truly love him. There’s no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Draco gasped dramatically, “Not even me ?”
“Fuck off,” Theo laughed in response.
Blaise spoke first, “I’m happy for you, Theo.”
Draco turned to Theo, “If I’m not your best man—”
“I haven’t even asked the bloke to marry me yet and you’re staking claim as best man already?”
Blaise laughed, “Jobs all yours, Draco. I don’t want any responsibilities at that wedding. If I’m running around doing shit how else am I meant to find women?”
This caused confusion amongst the group. Narcissa tried to tune out whatever Blaise was about to say, she tended to do that every Saturday night. She just wanted to eat her salad in peace.
“I thought you were dating Steph?” Theo and Draco inquired at the same time.
Blaise shook his head, “Bitch fucking broke up with me.”
“How’d you fuck that one up?” Theo couldn’t stop laughing.
“She found out about my heart—told me she didn’t want to date someone who was going to die.”
“That fucking bitch,” Narcissa threw down her napkin.
The Slytherins mouths dropped at the use of profanity. The normally overly calm pureblood witch looked like she was about to floo to Steph’s flat and avada her on the spot.
“Cissy, it’s fine. It’s really fine,” Blaise got up and went to console his mum.
Dinner continued less eventfully. Narcissa inquired about Theo’s plans on proposing and planned a trip with him to go look at rings at the Malfoy vault at Gringotts. She knew Theo didn’t want to use anything associated with his father and that he’d grown up feeling more Malfoy than Nott. It was only right that Theo got to use a Malfoy ring—they’d practically raised him.
~*~
As excited as ever, Draco left work early and headed to Variabilis. He immediately rushed to the second floor and found the romance section. Grazing his fingers over the spines, he found what he was looking for. Constellations and Roses by Brita Swift was neatly packaged, courtesy of Amanda, and was ready to give to Hermione. She might not know the meaning behind the gift, but he knew, he’d seen it right before he kissed her. The book could’ve been about a grain of sand and Draco would’ve read it and given it to Hermione.
When Hermione walked up the winding steps she was noticeably upset. Immediately, Draco rose and strode over to meet her. He tucked a curl behind her ear, letting their eyes meet. They stood like this for a few moments, silent but connected.
Draco broke the silence, “Is something wrong?”
“Ron is dead.”
The world just turned upside down. It took every last ounce of the stardust they shared for him not to smile. Sometimes, God really did answer prayers, even if they were a decade late.
“What happened?” Draco tried to remain sensitive and understanding, not knowing where her head was at or how she was feeling.
“Fucking dumbass. Did you know 450 people die rolling out of bed every year?”
Draco’s eyes widened, “Are you saying—”
“That Ron rolled off his bed this morning, hit his head, and died? Yes.”
Internally, Draco couldn’t help but laugh. What a pathetic way to die. Fitting, though. A pathetic way to die for a man whose existence was quite pathetic.
“I’m sorry Hermione, I know Weasley was your… friend.”
In an attempt to slightly cheer her up, Draco gave Hermione the book he purchased for her. They fell back into their routine of reading in their bay window The third quarter moon cast shadows against the pages of their books. They sat there until well after 10 o’clock, simply reading. Hermione nearly finished the book before she turned to speak to Draco.
“Why do you live in Muggle London?”
Draco laughed, “It’s quite a long story.”
“We have forever.”
“You remember that I left England after the war?”
Hermione nodded, beckoning for Draco to continue.
“After I got back… I didn’t know how people would perceive me.”
Hermione continued to nod along, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought.
“I didn’t want anyone to look at me like scum. I already felt bad enough.”
This time, Hermione squeezed his hand to show him her support.
“So, when I returned I just wanted a fresh start. I felt like a new person and I didn’t want to fall back into feeling like the shite about myself.”
She began to gently stroke the top of his hand. Moving her index finger back and forth.
“Muggle London felt like the only place where I could completely start over while remaining in England. I fell in love with the neighborhood and living at The Blur. I never left.”
Hermione kissed him. Something about this kiss was different than the rest. It wasn’t full of passion and it wasn’t slow filled with love. It was forgiveness.
~*~
Instead of searching for how he felt about Hermione in his book of Bukowski poems, Draco searched for how he felt about himself. It took a few hours to find the poem and decide that the words he was reading on the page were true. Once he did, he picked up The Catcher in the Rye and began to copy the poem onto the cover page.
Nobody can save you but yourself —
and you're worth saving.
It’s not a war easily won but if
anything is worth winning—
this is it.
- Charles Bukowski
Thursday was quite boring for Draco. After he finished copying the poem, he began to re-read his Salinger book. Nothing could change Draco’s mind—Hermione knew exactly what she was doing when she handed him a new book. She had to. No way did all of these books hit something deep inside of Draco without her intending them to.
Draco Malfoy laughed.
The thing is, it’s really hard to be
roommates with people if your
suitcases are much better than theirs.
He felt like such a fucking cliche. Again. Draco Malfoy felt like Holden Caulfield. His entire childhood he felt like a phony. He had to pretend to be all of these things when in reality all he felt was completely alone. His whole childhood, especially during the war, he felt so alienated from his peers. No one understood how he felt or what he was going through. Who else had a fucking psychopath with the creepiest slits for a nose living in their house? No one. There were more moments than he’d liked to admit where he thought about pitching himself the astronomy tower in year 6. Ending it all. Madness almost took over during Draco’s sixth and seventh year. The pressure was almost too much. So yeah, Draco felt like fucking Holden Caulfield.
Not in the mood to cook, Draco floo called Bronson and asked him to prepare something for him for dinner at The Blackbird and that he would come pick it up. Draco couldn’t help but smile knowing Bronson was meant to be a part of his life for a very long time. Had Pansy heard yet? He needed to check in with her soon. She’d be ecstatic for Theo and try to plan the entire event.
Twenty minutes later, Draco promptly arrived at The Blackbird to grab his mystery meal from Bronson. He noticed there was a new girl working at the hostess stand.
“Thanks, Bronson.”
“Anytime, Draco. How was your date the other night?”
“It was really great. Thank you for everything, mate. I really like Granger.”
“She seemed great. I’d love to get together with you two and Theo sometime for dinner.”
“Honestly, I think she’d like that as well. She seemed quite taken with you.”
“Looks like I might be stealing your girlfriend pretty soon.”
“I wouldn’t mind. I bet she’d look quite good on your arm.”
“As long as you don’t tell Theo. I wouldn’t want him getting too jealous.”
“He’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t walk in on the two of you shagging. Can’t image how horrible it’d feel to walk in on the bloke you’re in love with shagging a chick.”
“It’d almost be better if I was cheating on him with you,” Bronson laughed.
“At least he’d know you were still gay,” Draco couldn’t help but burst out in laughter.
“I can pick Theo’s reaction now. Completely baffled just at a loss for words, looking back and forth ‘Nah’ and then pointing at me ‘Nu’ and then staring at Hermione ‘Uh’, poor bloke would be at a loss for words.”
Draco looked confused, “Nah-Nu-Uh?”
Bronson chuckled until Draco realized.
“Shite, I’m daft sometimes.”
“Aren’t we all?”
Draco inquired, “Where’s Steph? Is she not working tonight?”
Bronson laughed, “I fired her. Asked her if she was taking the Mickey and that Blaise doesn’t deserve any of that bullshit.”
“Mate, didn’t you just break a bunch of labor laws?”
“Let the bitch sue me.”
Both Draco and Bronson laughed. Draco told him that he’d be in touch with Theo to set up dinner with the four of them and left to return to eat at home. The record player spun to the tunes of Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd as the uneventful evening turned into night.
After showering, Draco couldn’t help but continue to think about Hermione. Even as he laid in bed, he couldn’t get her off this mind. How beautiful she looked in her dress on Tuesday night. Glowing like the moon. His mind wandered to the sound of her moans and how she looked underneath him. The sound of her moans filled his ears just as Portuguese and French had before. His cock twitched as it remembered the feeling of Hermione’s cunt clenching around it moments before she came and screamed his name.
He tried not to. He really did. But, he couldn’t stop himself. Draco slid his hands over his boxer briefs and palmed his cock. Immediately, he groaned. He truly tried to stop there. To remain respectful. He couldn’t help himself. It felt so good. Quickly, he removed his briefs and lightly tugged at his balls. Pleasure shot through his entire body.
Finally giving in, Draco began to stroke his cock. His hand moved up and down, squeezing at the base while thinking about Hermione’s tits bouncing as he fucked her. He didn’t even try to block her out of his mind. He knew whatever he did, she would creep right back in. The darkness behind his eyes flooded with images of pure pleasure on her face as she came undone while staring directly into Draco’s eyes.
Draco’s stokes grew faster. His pleasure rapidly increased. He tasted her again. How fucking good she tasted. His tongue ached to lap against her clit again, to taste her again. This wasn’t the same. His cock wanted to fill her again. Fuck. She was so fucking tight. Nearing his climax, Draco’s mind wandered to Hermione on her knees in front of him. This caused him to increase his strokes. His wrist moved rapidly as it twisted around his cock at the same time. Hermione’s mouth filled with his cock. Her eyes opened wide. Merlin, he wanted to shove all of himself down her throat, let her take all eleven inches of him. Draco could hear her moaning against his cock. Why was she moaning? He looked down again and saw her hands in between her legs. Fuck. She was touching herself. She was touching herself while Draco’s cock hit the back of her throat. He couldn’t last any longer. Draco came with Hermione’s moans ricocheting through his ears. Panting, he came back to reality. He’d never come so hard on his own before. Fuck.
Comin thro' the rye, poor body,
Comin thro' the rye,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie
Comin thro' the rye.
Oh Jenny 's a' weet poor body
Jenny 's seldom dry,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie
Comin thro' the rye.
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body —
Need a body cry.
Oh Jenny 's a' weet, &c.
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the glen;
Gin a body kiss a body —
Need the warld ken!
Oh Jenny 's a' weet, &c.
Gin a body meet a body, comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body, need a body cry;
Ilka body has a body, ne'er a ane hae I;
But a' the lads they loe me, and what the waur am I.
Gin a body meet a body, comin frae the well,
Gin a body kiss a body, need a body tell;
Ilka body has a body, ne'er a ane hae I,
But a the lads they loe me, and what the waur am I.
Gin a body meet a body, comin frae the town,
Gin a body kiss a body, need a body gloom;
Ilka Jenny has her Jockey, ne'er a ane hae I,
But a' the lads they loe me, and what the waur am I.
- Robert Burns
Looking at the moon, Draco noticed it was well past moonlight. The crescent waned and gave him the courage to let go. Draco Malfoy didn’t want casual sex. Draco Malfoy wanted Hermione Granger. He wanted to date Hermione fucking Granger. Finally, he surrendered.
~*~
In lieu of Saturday night dinner, Narcissa and the Slytherins headed to the Malfoy vault at Gringotts. Theo was incredibly nervous. He was picking out his engagement ring. Narcissa couldn’t have been more excited for him. The first one of her sons was getting married.
“He hasn’t even said yes yet,” Theo reminded Narcissa.
“You’re daft if you think he’s going to say no to you.”
Draco chimed in to ease Theo’s nerves, “Trust me. Bronson is going to say yes.”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“I know everything you fucking cunt. Now, let's go pick out your fucking ring.”
Draco slung his arm around Theo’s shoulder as they walked into Gringotts. Blaise walked behind them, choosing to stick close to Narcissa. If Blaise is fucking my mum I swear I am going to bash his fucking head in, Draco thought. Mrs. Malfoy laughed at something Blaise said. Growing increasingly infuriated Draco thought, I don’t want anyone fucking my mother but if someone is going to at least let them last long enough for her to at least enjoy herself.
Once the four of them got into the Malfoy vault containing all of the jewelry, they all set out trying to find the perfect ring for Theo to propose with. Conveniently, Draco wandered away from the group and looked at some of the engagement rings his ancestors wore. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever get to slide one of the rings in front of him onto Hermione’s finger. They hadn’t been dating for very long. Were they even dating? He couldn’t help but hope. He would just have to wait and hope. An array of diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds rested in front of him. It dawned on him that he didn’t even know her favorite color. How could he think about marrying the girl whose favorite color he didn’t know? He began to panic. Relax. Relax. Relax. He knew more than that. Draco knew what made her smile, who her favorite authors were, what her hopes and dreams are, and he knew the type of person she wanted to be. He knew her. He told himself. Don’t panic, you know her. You love her. Wait. What?
Before Draco could even process his subconscious, Theo shouted, “I found it. I found the ring.”
It looked like everyone scattered throughout the vault. Narcissa, Blaise, and Draco ran to Theo’s side to see what ring caught his eye. It was gorgeous. Perfect. Honestly, it was perfect. The ring had three bands that all connected. The top and bottom were platinum bands with diamonds running the length of them. The middle was a platinum band as well but instead of diamonds, it was embedded with onyx. The black contrasted against the silver in the most beautiful way. Instead of being three parallel bands, they overlapped. The three bands looked like the wings of a bird. They overlapped at the top of the finger, sprawling the diamonds and onyx out over the other half of the band. The ring looked like the wings of a blackbird. It didn’t just look like that. They were the wings of a blackbird.
Make sure you marry someone
who laughs at the same things you do.
Blaise spoke first, “He’s going to love it.”
Narcissa had to whip tears from her eyes, “I’m so so happy for you Theo. I wish your mum was here with us right now.”
Theo gave Narcissa the biggest hug he could muster. She’d been his mum for as long as he could remember. Narcissa and Mrs. Nott were good friends before she passed and Theo knew that Cissy being here meant everything to her. Honestly, he’d never wanted or needed another mother. Narcissa had always been enough for him.
Draco asked quite curiously, “When are you going to propose?”
“Next month. I have no clue when or how. But I know that I’d love for all of you to be there. I wouldn’t want to celebrate with anyone else.”
Narcissa nodded excitedly, “How about hosting an engagement party at the manor? You two could join the party after the proposal?”
Blaise chimed in, “As long as there aren’t blackbirds flying around the place. Those birds are fucking ridiculusly scary. I’ll pull the arrhythmia card if I have to.”
All three of them looked confused, “The arrhythmia card?”
“Yes. The, I have an arrhythmia and if I see blackbirds flying around Malfoy Manor I will immediately go into cardiac arrest and nobody wants me to die card.”
Everyone couldn’t stop laughing at Blaise’s antics. It was good he was using some humor to cope. Unfortunately, his heart continued to get worse. No one knew what to do about it.
Attempting not to laugh in between words, Theo spoke, “Fine. No sodding blackbirds at the party. You win Blaise. You breathing is more important than a bird.”
~*~
It was Wednesday again. Finally. It was fucking Wednesday. Draco’s leg hadn’t stopped bouncing all day. Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra floated around Draco as he headed towards Variabilis.
Fly me to the moon
Let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like on
A-Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me
This was his musical solo. An entire band followed him as he walked. The trumpet players rocked back and forth as they played various tones by pressing on one of the three trumpet values. The flutists caused Draco to spin around the various lightposts on the sidewalk. His smile shined bright at the flute players blew the melody through the embouchure hole.
Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you
Draco continued his musical number as the trombone players bopped along with him, the slide guiding their steps, to the tune while the vibration of their lips into the mouthpiece floated out of the bell. Saxophones and drums continued the steady beat of the rhythm so Draco could reenact Gene Kelly’s famous number from Singin’ in the Rain.
Fill my heart with song
Let me sing forevermore
You are all I long for, all I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words
In other words
I love you
As Draco’s fantasy musical number came to a close, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had been so focused on the moon that he forgot about Jupiter and Mars. It’s not that he thought he needed to find someone else. He’d just been so focused on how she was the moon he forgot that she wasn’t just the moon. No. Hermione was Jupiter, Mars, Saturn, Uranus, Venus, Neptune, Mercury, and Pluto. She wasn’t just his moon. No. She also wasn’t just the solar system. She was so much more than that. She pulled together clouds of gas dust. Her pull allowed stars to form. Over time, two separate structures appeared—Draco and Hermione, after an even longer period of orbiting each other they spun inside one another. No one is sure who blended into whom, what they did know if together they created the brightest galaxy anyone had ever seen.
Hermione hugged Draco when he walked towards her. “I loved the book you got me. Constellations and Roses was so beautiful.”
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
“The author was brilliant. The depth of the characters and the way she told the story of friendship? I could feel the love the two girls had for one another.”
What really knocks me out is a book that,
when you’re all done reading it,
you wish the author that wrote it
was a terrific friend of yours
and you could call him up on the phone
whenever you felt like it.
That doesn’t happen much, though.
“Did you have a favorite part?”
As Hermione continued on about how much she loved the book and that she had already bought everything else Brita Swift had ever written Draco couldn’t help but relate. He knew what it felt like to connect so much to an author you feel like their friend. He had the fortunate ability to speak to his favorite author and even though they weren’t really friends, it felt like they were.
A great author creates a connection so deep between them and the reader that you can’t help but find pieces of yourself in them. That was the beauty of literature.
Hermione paused her monologue to ask, “Draco, do you have a favorite author?”
He chucked, “I actually discovered a new author recently. I saw her display in a bookshop and couldn't remember her name so I went back to find her books. The pink hair certainly helped. I read all of her work over the weekend.”
“What’s her writing like?”
“I’m fascinated by her mind. She has the ability to make you question everything. I spent half of one of her books trying to figure out which side character she’d kill next.”
“Side character?”
“She has a tendency to make you fall in love with a side character and then kill them.”
“That would drive me mad.”
“I floo called Pucey and told him I was reading a book and that the character Adrian was going to die. He couldn’t stop laughing. We had a running bet going if he would die or not.”
“Well, did he?”
“I can’t spoil the ending for you, Granger.”
“Is there anything you can tell me?”
Draco contemplated this while they stood their usual places in their bay window. There was so much he could say but he wanted to be deliberate.
“Think of this as an homage to a shiny rock and a very large tree.”
The gears in Hermione’s brain kept churning. Draco could tell. He loved when she was deep in thought. Honestly, she could be doing anything and he’d find something magnificent about her.
That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty,
even if they're not much to look at, or even if they're sort of stupid,
you fall in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are.
Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can.
Looking into her eyes, Draco felt at peace. Only the faintest outline of the new moon seeped through the window that night. His past didn’t matter anymore. Although he changed when he left England all those years ago, he never felt like he truly had a fresh start.
It was different now. With Hermione—he finally had a new beginning. His past was the Earth and his new beginning was the Sun. His past was hidden from his new beginning by the moon, leaving only the faintest outline of it left. Maybe Draco was right. Hermione is the moon.
He couldn’t stop staring into her eyes. The fire that always dared to roar. He was mesmerized by the fire. Draco needed to thank Prometheus for bringing fire to humans. The fate of Prometheus didn’t matter to Draco. He didn’t care. All that mattered was Draco got to see the fire in Hermione’s eyes. He couldn’t imagine her without it. What would he see in her eyes had it not been for Prometheus? Fire truly was a gift from the Gods.
The fire was his muse.
Notes:
A/N
Mippy is borrowed, with permission, from the lovely Julie aka Lovesbitca8.
French Translations:
Putain, tu es céleste, toi. = Fuck, you are heavenly.
Je veux te goûter. = I want to taste you.
La meilleure chose que j'ai jamais goûtée. = The best thing I've ever tasted.
Jouie pour moi. = Come for me.
Allez, un de plus pour moi. = Come on, one more for me.
I hope everyone found all the Easter eggs hidden throughout.
Songs and albums mentioned/referenced:
Amour plastique: https://open.spotify.com/track/7M3HuQRRAm1QD4kftmq0bb?si=e811c437efb7477d
The Beatles: https://open.spotify.com/album/1klALx0u4AavZNEvC4LrTL?si=4XPvD_79Qoi1STzJq-51xg
Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus: https://open.spotify.com/album/4OrbNhWLOrWi6lb40T0IHM?si=YVdBZNFiQV25xSD7ZeqCaA
A Night At The Opera: https://open.spotify.com/album/3KCJzwKOdBxDu6TKaFPqM9?si=ea0eKKxeTuW8kItOfu_ntA
Wish You Were Here: https://open.spotify.com/album/0bCAjiUamIFqKJsekOYuRw?si=iyV6loeOQMKEyXVQflanmA
Fly Me To The Moon: https://open.spotify.com/track/5b7OgznPJJr1vHNYGyvxau?si=cdc6f3aa096f4b88
Chapter 3: Valles Marineris
Notes:
As always, thank you to my incredible beta @tomridswhorecrux.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Luckily, it was warm that mid-April Saturday. Draco remained as vague as possible when asking Hermione to spend the afternoon with him on Saturday. She was Hermione Granger, so, of course, she had a million questions. He resisted. Of course, he wanted to tell her everything, but he knew better than that—an adventure like this needed to be a total surprise.
Trying not to overthink it, Draco wore light-colored trousers and a simple button-down. Summer casual is what he told her. Like before, Draco rocked back and forth on his feet while waiting for Hermione outside Variabilis. They decided meeting at the bookshop would be the easiest for them.
She took his breath away. Hermione wore a long, light green slip dress and had her hair blow-dried with a matching green silk headband in her hair. Her nude, strappy heels were small, as if she expected to be doing lots of walking. Good girl, he thought. It wasn’t until she got closer did Draco notice her jewelry. It was dainty and gold. The necklace had a small, lilac butterfly pendant attached to the thin golden chain that adorned her neck. Her earrings matched small gold hoops with matching butterflies dangling just below her earlobe. He couldn’t help but think about how beautiful she must look in the summertime.
She waved awkwardly, “Hey.”
“Hi,” Draco said, still completely mesmerized.
“When do I get to know where we’re going?”
Draco smirked, “When we get there.”
He led her inside Variabilis and up the spiral staircase. They hadn’t entered together before. He let himself look back at her, and this time, she was already smiling back up at him. As they reached the top of the stairs, Draco checked his watch before grabbing a small golden rose out of his pocket and handing it to Hermione. Right as their fingers touched, they were whisked away.
Hermione got her bearings and turned to Draco, “A portkey?”
Draco nodded, and Hermione looked at their surroundings. Her eyes went wide, and her breath hitched just for a moment.
“D—Draco, where are we?”
“We’re in Italy, Granger.”
Draco took ahold of her hand as he guided them down the cobblestone road. Hermione’s eyes kept wandering, trying to take in everything as Draco dragged her down the unfamiliar street. It wasn’t for a few minutes that Hermione noticed they were on the Amalfi Coast. Every so often, Draco would look back and see Hermione in utter awe.
I like it when somebody
gets excited about something.
It’s nice.
Finally, they reached their destination. Situated against the cliffs, the restaurant overlooked the ocean. Vines grew against the white stucco on the small building’s sides while lemon trees nearly covered the door’s entrance. Almost hidden by piles of lemons, four glazed tiles with blue script sat near the door. The script read—Disadattati.
Draco greeted the maître d like an old friend, and the couple followed him onto the patio that overlooked the ocean. They could see the water and the winding road against the coast with houses built into the cliffs in the background from their table. Draco had connections, as he always did, so their table was at the far end of the patio in the corner so Hermione could have the best view in the house. When the maître d left Draco and Hermione with their menus, she leaned into the table, gesturing she was about to speak.
“I didn’t know you could speak Italian.”
“Posso fare molte cose, Granger.”
Pleased, Draco chucked. He could see the awe and desire splashed across Hermione's face. They browsed the menu, both knowing Draco would end up ordering for the both of them. When the waiter arrived, Draco spoke to him in Italian as the waiter nodded alone before leaving the couple to relax and wait for their meals.
For the antipasti, the waiter served Draco and Hermione a lovely bruschetta. A light extra virgin olive oil drizzle, coarsely chopped tomatoes, a garnish of sea salt, and basil topped the crostini. Instead of wine for their first course, Draco opted for a limoncello cocktail. Their simple drink consisted of one part limoncello, two parts sparkling water, a splash of prosecco garnished with mint, and served over ice. Limoncello was refreshing, like the spring air that flew around them as they ate.
As she sipped her drink, Hermione asked, “I’ve never had this before; what is it?”
Draco smirked as he always did, “È limoncello, Granger. È un liquore ottenuto dalla scorza dei limoni di Sorrento.”
“As beautiful as you sound, you’re going to have to give me this one in English, Malfoy.”
He laughed and explained the origins of the liqueur they were drinking. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get over how golden her skin looked in the sun and how her eyes never stopped burning. Everything about her was warm. Draco didn’t realize he was speaking until Hermione’s face softened at the sound of Italian pouring from his lips.
“Mi hai fatto innamorare dell'estate, Granger. Non a causa del sole o della sabbia. No. La tua pelle è molto più dorata di loro.”
Hermione looked at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. She ignored the sound of the crashing waves and the chatter from the other patrons. It was just them.
“Sebbene l'acqua sia calda, non è paragonabile al calore che sento quando sono accanto a te: un fuoco eterno. Quando sono con te, il mio battito cardiaco finalmente rallenta e le onde smettono di infrangersi. Siamo solo io e te, come siamo destinati a essere.”
Too mesmerized by the love language dripping from his tongue, Hermione didn’t notice the way other guests stared at them. Patrons listened to Draco speak, adoration glimmering in their eyes. They leaned towards the couple, trying to get a better view, expecting Draco to get down on one knee.
“Hai fatto vergognare il sole. Lo offuschi: sono in soggezione che il sole ti lascerebbe portare via tutta la sua gloria. Il tuo calore si irradia sulla mia pelle in un modo di cui il sole è geloso. Sei la luce che filtra attraverso le mie persiane, ricordandomi la giornata, ricordandomi tutto ciò che è buono. Soprattutto, sono felice che tu offenda il sole perché già offuschi la luna. Insieme tenete le due parti più belle di ogni giorno.”
The other guests expected a reaction from Hermione. Instead, she just sat in her seat staring at Draco. Her eyes grew wide, and the corners of her lips turned. She was clueless about the twenty other guests boring holes into her skull with their eyes of her lack of response. Draco, seated facing them, noticed and spoke on her behalf, “Non parla Italiano.”
Everyone sighed and returned to their respective meals. Draco addressing the restaurant at large, woke Hermione from her spell. Her head tilted to the side slightly, and she squinted her eyes as if she was trying to read him.
She asked, “Why were you speaking to the other guests?”
“They overheard me, and the looks on their faces when you didn’t respond weren’t kind. I told them you didn’t speak Italian.”
“Why would strangers care if I responded to you or not? If I understood you and didn’t reply, it would be rude, yes, but why would a group of strangers care?”
Draco dropped his head slightly to hide his blush. Hermione never stopped staring at him, trying to decipher his reaction.
“Draco… what did you say?”
He didn’t lift his head but blushed further. He never thought she would make him repeat what he said in English. Draco chuckled, realizing he didn’t think this through at all, but then again, he didn’t notice what he was doing until he had already done it.
“Malfoy…”
He winced, “Do you want to know, Granger?”
“I do, Malfoy. I’d like to know,” Hermione said sternly as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Draco whipped his hands against his thighs and exhaled before looking up at Hermione, “You made me fall in love with summer, Granger. Not because of the sun or the sand. No. Your skin is much more golden than them.”
Her breath hitched. She slowly uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. A moment of silence passed between them, both waiting for Draco to continue.
“Although the water is warm, it doesn't compare to the heat I feel when I'm next to you—an eternal fire. When I'm with you, my heart rate finally slows down, and the waves stop crashing. It is just you and me—like we're meant to be.”
They locked eyes, Draco looking at her so he could get a read on how she was taking this, and Hermione looking at him with pure adoration.
“You put the sun to shame. You outshine it—I'm in awe the sun would let you take away all its glory. Your warmth radiates off my skin in a way that the sun is jealous of. You're the light shining in through my blinds—reminding me of the day, reminding me of all that is good. Mainly, I am glad you outshine the sun because you already outshine the moon. Together you hold the two most beautiful parts of every day.”
A single, dramatic tear slid down Hemione’s cheek when he finished. Draco leaned over to wipe the tear off her cheek; as he did so, his hand stayed on the side of her cheek for a moment too long. Both of their lips parted, both staying silent over feeling left unsaid so a moment could remain unharmed by potential harsh truths.
The waiter returned with their entree and wine. He presented Draco a 1991 Case Basse di Gianfranco Soldera from the Tuscany region of Italy. Once Draco swirled the red wine within the glass, looked at the color against the white of the table, sniffed it, tasted it, and approved it, the server left the couple to eat. On the table sat two simple pasta dishes. Tomato sauce cooked with onion, garlic, parsley, oregano, and basil paired nicely with fettuccine served al dente. Although the meal itself was simple, the ingredients’ freshness created a rich flavor that wasn’t replicable.
After they started eating, Hermione asked, “Why did you check the color against the table and not by holding the glass in the air?”
“You’re meant to check against the color of the table. That’s how you can tell if someone truly knows wine or if they’re full of it.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“I’m a Malfoy. I’ve known this for as long as I can remember.”
Hermione giggled, “Am I going to have a heart attack when I learn the price of this bottle?”
Draco’s face fell, but he tried to cover it up, “It’s only 553 euros.”
“Damn, Malfoy. I can't believe you. Only 553 euros? Is there something wrong with Gringotts vault?” She reached into her purse, “Do you need to borrow some Galleons?”
Both of them couldn’t stop laughing. Not a fake polite laugh, no. A guttural laugh where you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to.
Hermione grabbed Draco's hand from across the table, “Earlier… your face… it fell. Did I say something wrong?”
Draco winced, clearly not wanting to say something. Hermione noticed and squeezed his hand, singling it was okay to tell her she did something wrong.
He slowly started, “Do you remember Blaise Zabini?”
“Vaguely. Blaise was our year at Hogwarts and in Slytherin with you?”
Draco nodded, “He’s been one of my best mates since we were in nappies. He—has a pretty bad heart condition, and it worsens every year so—”
Hermione cut him off, “The heart attack. I’m so sorry, Malfoy.”
“It’s fine. Just sort of a sore subject.”
“You said one of your best mates, what about uh what’s his name—”
“Theo.”
“Yes! What about Theo?”
“He’s proposing to Bronson, and I’ve meant to ask if you wanted to be my date to their engagement party?”
She squeezed his hand, “I’d love that.”
“Just so you know—a lot of Slytherins will be there, and my mother.”
Hermione gulped, “And your father?”
“He died nearly eight years ago.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have—”
I know, Granger. I know.”
“May I ask how?”
“There’s only so much torture one person can endure; he wasn’t himself once he got out Azkaban. He never recovered.”
“How’s your mum?”
“I think she’s fucking Blaise.”
Hermione nearly spit out her wine, “What?”
Completely ignoring her reaction, “So.. knowing you’ll meet my mother... do you still want to be my date?”
Hermione nodded in reassurance, and they finished their meals. Instead of eating dessert at Disadattati, Draco took Hermione to his favorite gelato shop. The pair meandered the streets of Amalfi, taking in the now late afternoon glow, before arriving at Pasticceria Savoia. The cafe stood for nearly 100 years, opening in 1918. Draco ordered the Savoia, almond gelato with crunchy variegated chocolate and macaroons, while Hermione ordered the variegated sour cherry gelato. Instead of eating inside the cafe, Draco and Hermione ate their dessert and walked towards the ocean.
After descending the 400 steps down the cliffside, Draco and Hermione’s feet sank into the sand at Duoglio Beach. It was surprisingly uncrowded for a weekend afternoon, even though it was off-season. Duoglio beach was only a kilometer away from the town of Amalfi and tucked away between the cliffs.
I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do,
I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff—
I mean if they’re running and they don’t look where they’re going
I have to come out from somewhere and catch them.
That’s all I’d do all day. I’d just be the catcher in the rye and all.
Settled in comfortable silence, Draco reflected on his time with Hermione. Had he been naive? Thinking this would work? He wasn’t even sure if they were dating. Draco couldn’t figure out if he got caught up in the innocence of it all; the boy meets a girl at a bookstore and falls in love. Falls in love? What? No. No. Not falls in love. Boy meets girl at a bookstore, period.
Breaking their silence, Draco pondered, “Do you ever find it crazy that youth should be pure, uncorrupt, and innocent while during our childhoods we grew up too quickly? It was corrupt—well, not yours. Just mine. Mine was corrupt.”
Hermione rested her head against Draco’s shoulder while they remained seated on the sand, “Is anyone’s childhood truly pure, uncorrupt, and innocent?”
He thought for a moment before responding, “No, no, I guess not.”
They stayed like this until the sunset before them, on the sand with Hermione’s head rested against his shoulder. Lots of silences filled their time—comfortable ones. Light pinks and orange hues filled the sky. The sunset was soft, like her, he thought. As the sun dipped over the horizon, Draco and Hermione took the portkey back to London. They landed back on the second floor of Variabilis. Hermione wobbled slightly, and Draco grabbed her arm to steady her so she didn’t fall. The couple snuck out past the Asiers, and when they stepped out into the brisk nighttime air, Hermione got goosebumps. Without question, Draco wrapped his arms around her, trying to keep her warm since he didn’t wear a suit jacket to lunch.
Draco stuttered awkwardly, “Do you—uh, want to—uh, come home with me?”
Following his less than graceful attempt at inviting Hermione back to his flat, Draco ran his fingers through his hair, trying to compose himself.
“I’d like that a lot, Malfoy.”
When they arrived at The Blur, Hermione ignored Dracos’s massive book collection and headed towards his record player. Draco laughed as she rummaged through his collection before plucking a record from its sleeve, setting it on the platter, placing the tonearm at the edge of the disc, and turning on her music of choice.
Babe, You Turn Me On by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds filled the room as Hermione strode towards Draco. She paused in front of him, “Well—aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”
“To this?”
“Obviously.”
Draco shivered, “Merlin, that word reminds me of Snape.”
Hermione laughed, “I’ll remember to remove it from my vocabulary permanently.”
He held an arm out, and she took it. Nick Cave’s melodic voice floated them across his flat, only lit up by the moon. Draco refused to acknowledge the cliche—refused.
Now, the nightingale sings to you
And it raises up the ante
I put one hand on your round ripe heart
And the other down your panties
She was looking up at him, completely lost in his eyes. The light grey iris’ looked into her soul, found a part of her that she had yet to discover, and pulled it to the surface. With Draco—Hermione was a brand new person.
Everything is falling, dear
Everything is wrong
It's just history repeating itself
And babe, you turn me on
Draco dipped Hermione as Nick Cave sang the chorus. He could get used to this. Small movements of their feet slowly cracked away at the wall Draco had built around himself—mainly his heart.
Well you race naked through the wilderness
And you torment the birds and the bees
You leapt into the abyss, but find
It only goes up to your knees
I move stealthily from tree to tree
And I shadow you for hours
I make like I'm a little deer
Grazing on the flowers
Ignoring the lyrics, Draco moved with the feelings he had for Hermione. His whole body felt light. Free. As she led him around his flat, he pictured them doing this every night after they got home from work. They’d cook dinner together and drink wine. While the water boiled or food simmered or oven heated—he knew she would insist on cooking the Muggle way—they’d dance around their flat to a song on the record player.
Like an idea, babe
Like an atom bomb
Nick Cave’s voice sang the last of the lyrics as Draco dipped Hermione again. When he led her back up to press her chest into his—she smiled at him. It wasn’t a smile, unlike the others she’d given him. It wasn’t different, yet Draco felt different when he looked at her, green silk dress under the moonlight. He was in love with her. Draco was in love with her. Fuck. Draco Malfoy was really in love with Hermione Granger.
Both of them leaned in to kiss one another. It was slow, unrushed kisses. Their tongues danced as they took turns guiding each other through the waltz and the samba.
Draco didn’t feel he had to rush anything that night; he planned on having forever.
Bamboo sheets awaited them at the top of the stairs. Gracefully, Draco lay Hermione down to sprawl out on the large bed. Subsequently, Draco fell to his knees at her feet and proceeded to kiss up her leg, starting from her ankle ending at her inner thigh. When he reached the flesh inside her thigh, Draco bit and sucked, causing Hermione to shudder. He peppered kisses back down to her ankle before removing her nude heel and repeating on her other leg.
Although Draco knew he had forever, he didn’t want to waste his time with her tonight. All-day he’d stared at her in a beautiful silk dress, and all-day, he’d dreamed about tearing it off of her. He blew his hot breath over her nipples, causing them to pull tight. Fuck. She wasn’t wearing a bra. How had he not noticed before? Draco’s cock grew harder as it pressed against Hermione’s hip. He was aching. Before he got ahead of himself, Draco leaned back to take a deep breath.
He whispered in her ear, “Ho fantasticato di scoparti tutto il giorno.”
She opened her throat to him as her back arched as the sound of Italian radiated through her body. Without any impulse control left, Draco tore her dress in half and discarded it. Only after the green silk was in pieces on the floor did he notice something. She wasn’t wearing any knickers.
He moaned, “Fanculo.”
Not moving nearly as fast as he’d like, Draco popped open the buttons on his shirt. Once she undid all the buttons, Hermione grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a tantalizing kiss. Her hips bucked into his groin, causing him to moan and roll his hips in response. Finally letting go of his collar, Hermione let Draco discard his shirt and remove his trousers and briefs. It was apparent how eager she was; her hips wouldn’t remain still.
Draco grabbed her hips and spoke, “Paziente. Sii paziente.”
Hermione stilled as Draco's large hands gripped bruises on her hip bones, “Brava ragazza.”
Unaware of the dirty words dripping from his tongue, Hermione still moaned at the beautiful sound. Slowly, Draco dipped his fingers inside of her, causing Hermione to gasp.
“Cazzo, sei così fottutamente bagnata per me. Non è vero?”
She had no idea why she was nodding yes, but she was. Draco’s baritone voice, well, it’s deeper than that actually, slowly chucked. Sinful phrases continued pouring into Hermione’s ears, going directly to her cunt; he could feel her growing wetter as he slowly slid his finger in and out of her. Finally, when he added a second, Hermione moaned from the increased pleasure. He began curling both fingers, reaching for her climax, knowing he wouldn’t give it to her.
When her breathing quickened and her body began to shake, Draco removed his fingers. She winced at the loss. Instead of lining himself up right away, Draco whispered seductively, “Non voglio mai che tu venga intorno a qualsiasi cosa tranne il mio cazzo.”
Hemione reeled from the loss of his fingers and the sensual Italian. Draco moved the head of his cock through her arousal, teasing her. Once he couldn’t handle the painful throbbing of his erection, Draco slowly slid inside her. It took time for him to reach the hilt due to his size; once he did, he groaned, “Dei Hermione sei così fottutamente stretto.”
Their pace was dangerously slow; Draco wanted to show Hermione what he could do with his body, what he could give to her. He could give this to her every day if she’d let him.
Abruptly, Draco grabbed Hermione’s wrists and held her arms over her head. He grabbed her knee with his free hand, opening her up more, and filled her further. Her eyes widened. She’d never been fucked like this before. It was the first time a man had ever been this deep.
The slow drag of his cock caused Hermione to shake in a way slow sensual sex never had before. Draco took his time, hitting her g-spot every time. He knew exactly how to wind her up, increasing the pressure and intensity slowly, so when she climaxed, the pleasure was blinding. Both of them neared their respective orgasms as they looked into one another eyes. Neither dared to close their eyes, even just for a second.
In their final moments, Draco stared at Hermione, lost in thought. He thought about how beautiful she looked beneath him; her flushed skin and heavy breath only aroused him further. He thought how lucky he was to have her here, in his bed. How lucky he was to be able to give her this pleasure. It was a concept that made his head spin; Hermione sodding Granger was lying beneath him in his bed while his cock thrust into her cunt. The sound of his given name interrupted his thoughts.
Without daring to move her arms, Hermione shattered beneath him. Her back arched off the bed, and she threw her head back. As the waves of pleasure increased, Draco commanded, “Look at me. Hermione, look at me.”
At the sheer intensity of his words, Hermione looked into his eyes and came undone, “Draco. Oh, fuck, Draco.”
As Hermione’s cunt was still pulsating around his cock, Draco came, pumping all his seed inside her. The pleasure only increased as he continued to fuck all of his come inside her, hitting her cervix. Staring into her eyes, Draco moaned, “Dei Hermione, sono innamorato di te.”
Heavily panting, Draco pulled out and fell beside Hermione. Neither could form thoughts for a few minutes; the intensity of their orgasms rendered them speechless.
The best thing, though, in that museum
was that everything always stayed right where it was.
Nobody’d move. . . . Nobody’d be different.
The only thing that would be different would be you.
Completely suspended in time, Draco and Hermione laid side by side. Breathless and confused, Draco was beside himself over what he’d admitted. She didn’t understand him, but he acknowledged it. For the first time, he’d said it out loud. It was real.
He rolled onto his side, “Was that—uh. The first time you’d—uh had sex like that?”
She couldn’t hide her blush; it showed across her whole body, “Uh—I’ve never had sex doing anything other than missionary.”
Draco’s eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped, “What? How?”
He knew these were personal questions, but he couldn’t help himself. How could you be fucking Hermione Granger and do nothing but missionary? Draco realized the last time they’d had sex, that’s all they’d done, but it was their first time. He decided that was allowed—respectable.
Hermione tried to hide under the sheets, “I just—he never wanted anything else.”
Draco knew who he was. Ron was so pathetic he couldn’t even shag Hermione properly?
She was embarrassed, which is the last thing Draco wanted. He pulled her closer, kissed her forehead. Draco put his hand around Hermione’s and guided her to feel how hard he still was. With his forehead touching hers, he spoke, “I’m quite worked up about you; are you worked up about me?”
Hermione gulped and nodded. Without missing a beat, Draco took Hermione’s nipple into his mouth and lightly bit while he swirled his tongue. She gasped, and he took the opportunity to flip her onto her back and grab her throat. Draco towered over Hermione with his hands wrapped lightly around her throat. One day—one day, Draco would fuck her the way he wanted.
“Draco—Draco, please.”
“You’re sure?”
Hermione pulled Draco close to her, “Fuck me.”
Hearing such explicit words come from Hermione’s mouth caused Draco to groan. Deciding to ease into things, Draco flipped Hermione onto her stomach—causing her to yelp in surprise. He sat back on his knees and pulled Hermione up, so she was also sitting on her knees. Draco moved Hermione’s curls to one side and lightly peppered, kissing all over her neck and shoulders. His touch was so light it caused Hermione to shutter, goosebumps covered her body.
Before sliding inside, Draco rubbed circles on her clit. When he decided she was ready, he slipped his cock inside of her. Leaning back further, Draco reached the hilt and began to thrust. Hermione’s body moved with his, a steady rhythm. Once he could tell she was used to the angle, he moved both of his hands to knead her breasts. Rolling her nipples between his fingers, Draco caused Hermione to tilt her head to the side and crush her lips with his. Moans exchanged through breathless kisses.
The pace wasn’t as slow as before, but wasn’t fast either. Moving in tandem with one another, Draco slid one of his hands down to rub Hermione’s clit. She screamed. The angle of his cock combined with the intense pressure he placed on her clit caused Hermione to crash. Every moan, gasp, utter of his given Draco poured into his mouth. They never let up on their kisses. Draco decided hearing Hermione moan his name into his mouth while coming on his cock was the sexiest thing he experienced.
Draco fucked her through her orgasm, never stopping. He knew the pressure would build again, causing her to shatter for the third time that night. Breaking the kiss, Draco breathlessly asked, “Can we try something else?”
She frantically nodded. Internally, Draco’s ego reached Mars. He’d successfully shagged Hermione Granger so well she didn’t want to stop.
Draco refused to fuck her while she was on her back for the rest of the night. He could be more creative than that. Draco smirked before pulling out and spinning Hermione around. He successfully scooped her up and carried her from the bed to sit her on his dresser just a few feet away.
Draco grabbed Hermione’s legs and placed them above his shoulders while he stood in front of her. She was flexible. Draco internally smirked at the endless possibilities this opened. Carefully, Draco guided his cock into her cunt and thrust. The pace was fast and hard. His cock slammed against her g-spot with every thrust, causing Hermione to throw her head back in ecstasy. Her tits bounced as he slammed inside of her. Watching her tits bounce and looking down, seeing his cock slide in and out of her was Draco’s favorite view; he decided right then and there.
Suddenly, Hermione’s head shot up, and she put her hands behind his head. Words didn’t pour from her mouth. Neither did gasps or moans. Hermione’s third orgasm was so intense; all she did was stare at Draco with her mouth opened in an ‘o’. After returning to Earth, Draco moved her legs from his shoulders to wait and said, “Hold on.”
Hermione obliged with Draco’s command as he led her to the nearest wall. Instantly, Draco continued; his thrusts grew harder, and strokes longer. Capturing her nipple in his mouth, Draco licked and sucked. The symphony that played from her throat was a great indication he was doing everything right.
Trying to hold off his orgasm, Draco spoke between gasps, “Dai, solo un altro. Dammene un'altra, baby. Vieni intorno al mio cazzo un'ultima volta.”
It wasn’t long until Hermione’s cunt squeezed Draco’s cock so hard he thought he’d instantly come. Focusing on the movement, Draco thrust with extreme accuracy. Hermione’s head banged against the wall as she began to pant, “D—Draco. I’m—I’m gonna.”
He continued his excruciatingly fast pace, and Hermione screamed, “I’m coming. Fuck—Draco. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
Her fourth orgasm made Draco smirk; he felt victorious, “Brava ragazza.”
Seconds later, Draco released inside her. He continued thrusting his seed inside of her, relishing that he was pushing all his come deep inside her cunt. Placing Hermione on the bed, Draco followed and peppered kisses on her forehead and jawline. Falling into place behind her, Draco stroked her hair and continued placing kisses on the back of her head. They laid there, cuddled against one another, for a few minutes before moving into the steaming shower.
After the shower, Hermione asked Draco for a shirt, just as she did last time. Draco reached into his closet, grabbed the first black t-shirt he saw and tossed it to Hermione. He proceeded to put on briefs to sleep in, but Hermione’s confused voice interrupted him.
When he turned around, Hermione stood in front of him with his t-shirt swallowing her petite frame. He thought every time I see her; somehow she becomes more beautiful.
Hermione looked up at him and asked, “Draco, why do you own a Misfits t-shirt?”
He blushed, “I fell in love with a girl in a Misfits t-shirt.”
~*~
On the last Saturday of the month, Hermione met Theo and Blaise for the first time. They all decided to meet at the underground bar/lounge—SUBALTERN. The bar was pretty new, so when Draco suggested they meet there, everyone seemed eager.
Sure, Draco had seen Hermione in formal attire before. He’d seen her at the Yule Ball and two of their nicer dates. He was beside himself. She crossed the street when Draco saw her. She was wearing medium-washed jeans—typical—her top was what Draco drooled over. She wore a slightly oversized white button-down, tucked into the jeans, with a black corset on top. The corset hugged the curves of her breasts—accentuating them. If Pansy saw this moment, she’d be so proud of Hermione.
Draco reached out for Hermione’s hand, “Ready?”
She gulped nervously before nodding her head; this was the first time either of them introduced the other to their friends. Knowing Beavis and Butt-Head, they were already seated at their table planning all the ridiculous shit they’d say to Hermione.
Descending the steps, a live jazz band playing in the corner greeted Draco and Hermione. Lots of red velvet and leather furniture adorned the swanky lounge. Dim lighting and a smoky haze furthered the atmosphere of the lounge.
The initial introductions went smoothly, nothing awkward or outlandish occurred, and that was enough for Draco. When the cocktail waitress arrived, Draco ordered for himself, “I’ll have the Ophelia. Thank you.”
Hermione looked at the menu one last time, “Could I have the Only In The Night, please?”
The waitress nodded and turned to Blaise. He responded, “An Amortentia, please.”
Theo gestured to Blaise, “Same as him, thanks.”
Drinks flowed as the night progressed. Theo and Blaise warmed up to Hermione; their jokes slowly flooded into the conversation more often. The conversation then turned to Draco’s travels in America right after the war. Theo, Blaise, and Hermione listened intently to the stories Draco told. When he reached his time in Alaska, Draco lamented, “I fucking hate the Northern Lights. I think, finally, people realized there’s nothing special about them. You can see colors in the sky just about anywhere.”
Hermione laughed, “What’d the Northern Lights ever do to you?”
I can be quite sarcastic
when I’m in the mood.
Blaise interjected with a smirk; Draco knew whatever was to occur next would be ending very badly for him. “Has Draco told you about the time he got dicked down in Dallas?”
Theo erupted in laughter while Hermione fought not to spit her drink all over herself. Scarlet red, Draco glared at Blaise, clearly unamused.
It was Theo’s turn to take the piss out of Draco, “Granger, what about when he got buttfucked in Boston?”
Blaise and Theo switched off their dirty alliterations of U.S. cities. Hermione couldn’t control her laughter; Draco would’ve been livid if it wasn’t for Hermione enjoying herself.
“Oh! Oh! I remember one. Wasn’t Draco railed in Raleigh?”
“No, no. Blaise, I think he was pegged in Poughkeepsie.”
“Wait. Was Draco not tag teamed in Tennessee?”
Wanting to join in on the fun, Hermione added, “Tag teamed? I guess I’m in luck then, Draco. I’ve never dated a bisexual guy before. There are so many new positions we can try.”
Hermione’s out-of-character comment caused Draco to spit some of his drink back into the cup while tears fell down Theo and Blaise’s cheeks. If Draco thought he wanted to apparate on the spot at the dinner with his mum and friends a few months ago, nothing compared to how badly he wanted to disappear right now.
While Draco was trying to cover his face and hide from the entire conversation that previously occurred, Blaise patted him on the back, “She’s a keeper, mate.”
“You took me to Italy… it’s about time you took me to Paris, Malfoy,” Hermione smirked before taking a small sip of her cocktail.
All three Slytherins stared at her in utter shock. Following the initial bewilderment, Blaise turned to Draco, trying to ask with his eyes silently. Draco grimaced, “Go to hell, Blaise. No. Theo’s gay, and I know she’d at least have a better time with him.”
Theo added, “Last longer too.”
Now, it was Blaise’s turn to sulk into the back of his chair. Everyone got along better than expected. Even with the painfully humiliating comments Theo and Blaise slipped in throughout the night, Draco had a great time. He felt at ease. She liked his friends, and they liked her.
Draco led Hermione out of the lounge, his hand brushing her low back. In a true gentleman fashion, Draco walked Hermione home. Purely so he knew she arrived safely, of course. Once they arrived at her doorstep, Draco broke their silence, “I—”
“I know,” Hermione laughed, “I know, Malfoy.”
He let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding and combed his fingers through his hair. Just as he was about to kiss Hermione and bid her goodnight, she spoke.
“Do you want to come upstairs?”
“Is it our third date already, Granger? What a cliche.”
“We’ve been dating for a couple of months, Malfoy. I think it’s time you see the inside of my flat.”
Draco leaned over Hermione and smirked, “So we’re dating now?”
She chucked and slowly turned around to open her door. Hermione looked back at him, catching him staring at her arse in her jeans. “You coming?”
“Don’t have to ask me twice.”
With the front door unlocked, Draco picked Hermione up bridal style. As she squealed, he kicked the door open and carried her inside. His life was destined to be a cliche; he might as well embrace it. If these moments with her were so cliche it hurt—Draco didn’t care. He had her. Who the fuck cared about anything else?
Draco Malfoy caught her.
Draco Malfoy caught Hermione Granger.
Draco Malfoy caught the Golden Girl.
Most importantly, Draco Malfoy caught the moon.
~*~
He couldn’t believe he might pull this off. Draco noticed the way Hermione lit up when she spoke of Constellations and Roses. The corners of her mouth turned upwards, and her curls shook as she spoke with such animation. She would never be the girl who wanted diamonds and pearls. Draco could give her everything, yet the only things she wanted were priceless. Malfoy family connections got Draco into contact with Brita Swift, and they arranged a meeting. Draco was incredibly pleased to learn that Brita was a witch who happened to sell her books in Muggle bookshops.
I’m quite illiterate,
but I read a lot.
On the first Tuesday afternoon in May, Draco and Brita met at La Petite Grue en Papier. After the incident that occurred the last time Draco ate here, he opted to sit inside instead of on the patio. Brita looked like a real-life fairy princess. Her delicate features and bright eyes made her look like the fabrics of magic created her. If Draco wasn’t already in love with Hermione, he could’ve fallen in love with her favorite author on the spot.
For the next two hours, Draco explained to Brita how his girlfriend loved her work and was a fan of hers. Brita listened intently, nodding in the right places. During Draco’s pitch, Brita asked him how he and Hermione met.
“We went to Hogwarts together. I was a right arse to her during our time at school.”
Brita smiled, “What changed?”
Draco chuckled, “I saw her at a bookshop.”
“And?”
“And that was that. We’re a cliche. I saw Hermione at a bookshop, we danced around one another for almost a year, I mustered up the courage to speak to her, and then we started a different dance.”
“An enemies to lovers, mutual pining trope.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m guessing you don’t read much romance?”
“How’d you guess?”
Lunch came to a close; before Draco could ask the question of the hour, Brita did it for him. She asked to meet Hermione. Draco was ecstatic; he knew Hermione would be beyond thrilled. This was priceless. It’d be perfect.
~*~
Reluctantly, Draco agreed to meet Ginny at lunch with Hermione on Thursday. Although Draco could list one hundred things he’d rather be doing on a Thursday afternoon, he knew it meant a lot to Hermione. Plus, he felt slightly bad for Ginny. She broke up with her boyfriend, and her brother died within 15 months. Shite luck if you asked him.
Everything felt alright; when Draco arrived, he saw Hermione in her dirty converse, denims, and a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. He preferred the Misfits shirt; seeing her dressed casually made Draco feel at home. The Hermione he fell in love with stood before him.
Draco nodded when he greeted Ginny, “Weaslette.”
Ginny laughed, “Malfoy.”
“C’mon, no fun nickname for me?”
“Do you prefer emo ferret or Death Eater scum?”
“That’s Ex -Death Eater scum to you,” Draco laughed.
Hermione felt positively mortified. Draco put his arm around her in reassurance. He knew Ginny was breaking the ice. He hated to admit it; she was doing quite well.
The mark of the immature man is
that he wants to die nobly for a cause,
while the mark of the mature man is
that he wants to live humbly for one.
Lunch went off without a hitch. Much to Hermione’s surprise, Ginny and Draco got on well. Better than well, honestly.
Nearing the end of their gathering Ginny turned to Draco, “I’m surprised, Malfoy. I didn’t believe Hermione when she said you’d changed. You’re different.”
Hermione lightly shoved Ginny, “Thank you so much for all that trust and faith you have in my judgment. A great friend you are, Ginny.”
“Seriously, Hermione. I believed you when you said he’d changed. I didn’t expect him to be this different.”
“Thanks, Weaslette. I appreciate it.”
Draco invited Ginny to Theo and Bronson’s engagement party. He didn’t do anything in halves. Hermione wanted him to befriend her friends; at least Ron was dead, so he didn’t have to pretend to deal with that.
“You could go with Blaise,” Draco suggested.
“As in Blaise Zabini?” Ginny seemed skeptical.
“Yes.”
“Go as Blaise Zabini’s date?”
“Precisely. You two could be that uh enemies to a dating couple?”
Ginny and Hermione erupted in laughter, “You mean enemies to lovers trope?”
Draco lit up, “Yes! That’s the one.”
“Sod it. Might be nice to get laid,” Ginny proclaimed.
“Yeah—uh—about that,” Draco and Hermione exchanged a thousand words and some laughter between their eyes.
______________________________________________________________________________
The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
They decided Hermione needed to meet Narcissa before the engagement party. An event is not the place to introduce your girlfriend to your mother for the first time. Draco wanted everything to be perfect. He’d never introduced a girlfriend to his mum before; he’d only ever officially dated Pansy, and Narcissa’s known Pansy since she was in nappies. Draco kept wiping his palms on the legs of his trousers. If this went south, there’s no way Draco could choose. Would they make him choose? He had one parent left, but he hadn’t been in love since the ’90s.
Early May weather allowed for lunch in the gardens; they only cast a few charms to ensure the wind stayed at bay and any cold fronts rolling through wouldn’t affect them. Veering from his usual uniform, Draco wore a fitted black t-shirt with black trousers instead of a button-down. Seeing him in a regular t-shirt had Hermione gobsmacked; it was priceless.
Hermione arrived at Malfoy Manor at half past noon in a simple tank top and skirt; the wide v-neckline showed off her collarbones while the red trim along the bodice accentuated the curve of her breasts. A small brown bow sat in the middle of her breastbone while the slightly cropped lettuce hem sat just above her hip bones. In true 1990’s fashion, Hermione wore a muted; tie-dye patterned maxi skirt. The combination of greens, oranges, and browns complimented her olive skin. Hermione’s tortoise sandals with a low heel had an open square toe with three straps covering the top of her feet. Hermione wore two small hoop earrings in each one, a chunky gold one that hugged her lobe and a gold pavé hoop to accentuate her outfit.
Dressed casually by Narcissa Malfoy’s standards, she wore a light green and black dress. The silk bodice created the illusion of a halter top while fully covering her spine to create deep cutouts on the side. The dress’s skirt flowed from the bodice, accentuating her hips and waist, and ended mid-calf. Narcissa still wore her wedding ring, a beautiful 4-carat diamond ring connected to a sapphire of the same size. The ring was custom made; Lucius added the sapphire onto the Malfoy family ring to symbolize what he loved most about his beloved. Sapphires represent kindness, power, strength, and good judgment. All traits Narcissa wholeheartedly embodies.
What is kinder--to believe the best of people and
burden them with a nobility beyond their endurance--
or to see them as they are,
and accept it because it makes them comfortable?
Once everyone was seated for lunch in the garden, Mippy and Herman served the food. Lunch was casual, simply an entree and tea. There weren’t formalities with family. No formalities at all.
Narcissa spoke, holding her teacup before taking a sip, “It’s lovely to meet you, Hermione, under better circumstances this time.”
“It’s lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Malfoy. I do apologize for bleeding all over the drawing-room floor.”
Narcissa laughed, “I see why Theo and Blaise adore you, and Narcissa is just fine, dear.”
Draco coughed, “Maybe this isn’t what we ought to be discussing?”
Narcissa rested her hand on his, “It’s fine, my dragon. We can’t overlook what happened; we must acknowledge the horrors and move on. We mustn't shy away from the uncomfortable. We all know what occurred in this house; no need to dance around it for the sake of comfort.”
Hermione nodded, “I forgave both of you a long time ago. If I hadn’t moved on, I wouldn’t be here. I know who I’m dating; I’ve accepted the past,” Hermione squeezed Draco’s free hand, “You’re your past, present, and future. You wouldn’t be you without all of them.”
Their meal continued peacefully; the conversation was light without small talk. Instead of Mippy, Herman came to clear the table. She wore a beautiful sundress and close-toed sandals over Dobby’s socks.
Hermione looked baffled, “Is that a tattoo? Of—”
Draco and Narcissa both laughed, “Of Dobby’s socks? Yes. Herman misses him dearly.”
Narcissa added, “I assume Draco has already reassured you that Mippy and Herman are free elves?”
Hermione shook her head, “He hasn’t. I never assumed otherwise, honestly.”
Draco looked confused, “You assumed they were free? Why?”
“You’re different now.”
Narcissa and Hermione wandered the Malfoy gardens together while Draco took a floo call for work. He didn’t need to call anyone, but he knew his mother wanted to speak with Hermione privately. She deserved to get to know the woman her only son fell in love with.
“Draco’s quite taken with you.”
Hermione’s cheeks turned red, and her skin felt hot, “I’m quite taken with him as well.”
“He’s fallen for you, Hermione.”
“Don’t worry, Narcissa. I’ve already caught him.”
“He may be my dragon, but he doesn’t love like one. It’s more intense than that. He loves like a gray wolf.”
“Why a gray wolf?”
“They mate for life.”
~*~
Draco and Hermione laid in bed the night before Theo’s proposal and engagement party. They laid facing one another; Draco stroked her hair and occasionally kissed her forehead. This was home. Draco wanted to live out the rest of his life in stupidly happy domestic bliss.
It was easy to find her—she was the North Star. A lost and broken man followed the brightest star in the sky until he found his way home again. Who else could say they fell in love with the brightest star in the sky?
“Hermione?”
“Mmhmm,” she muttered, nearly asleep.
“You’re the North Star.”
“I thought I was the moon.”
“You’re everything.”
Snuggled close together, Hermione pressed against his chest; they drifted off to sleep. The only moment was the rise and fall of their chests, and the only sound was soft inhales. Pure domestic bliss. Pure, innocent, and uncorrupt bliss.
Love is reverence, and worship, and glory, and the upward glance.
Not a bandage for dirty sores. But they don't know it.
Those who speak of love most promiscuous are the ones who've never felt it.
They make some sort of feeble stew out of sympathy, compassion,
contempt and general indifference, and they call it love.
Once you've felt what it means to love as you and I know it-
total passion for the total height - you're incapable of anything less.
“Draco?”
“Mmhm,” he whispered from his dreamlike state.
“You didn’t follow the light.”
“Hmm?”
“You didn’t follow the light. There’s a reason you found me.”
“Why is that?”
“Stars have a gravitational pull.”
“You’re saying?”
“Two stars can circle one another. They create ripples in the sky, waves crashing throughout the galaxy, slowly creating more light. When they finally collide—they explode. The light they create is endless; the sky shines. Colors fill the darkness surrounding them; the two dead stars become one.”
She knew that even pain can be confessed,
but to confess happiness is to stand naked,
delivered to the witness...
Draco grabbed Hermione and kissed her.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
“I fell in love with the colorful haze our reborn selves created. The parts of ourselves that collided and turned the empty clouds of gas in our lungs into magic in the night sky. I fell in love with the blues, and the purples and the reds and the greens that paint the sky with the broken pieces of ourselves turned whole again. We’re rare, but we’re beautiful. I fell in love with you. I love you, Draco.”
~*~
Guests anticipated the few hours left until Bronson and Theo arrived at Malfoy Manor. The party was posh and upscale for any regular person; for pureblood standards, it was very casual for such a significant event. A charmed tower of champagne saucers poured champagne like a fountain. The charmed bottle floated in the air and continuously poured champagne onto the saucers. Charmed fireworks surrounded the manor, continuously erupting. The details Narcissa included in the decor were impeccable. Everything was to celebrate the beautiful engagement of her first son.
The party was in full swing; a live band played Frank Sinatra as guests socialized and drank copious amounts of expensive champagne. If anyone saw photos, they’d think the party celebrated the new millennium on New Year’s Eve. Feathers and sparkles clouded the dance floor as couples spun and waltzed to the music.
Hermione and Draco entered together along with Blaise and Ginny. Draco’s outfit was simple as always; he wore black trousers, black dress shoes, a black button-down, and a black suit jacket. He refused Blaise’s persistent plea to dress him in a fashion-forward outfit; he wore his M engraved cufflinks as the compromise. Hermione wore a strapless black dress, black tights, and black heels. Her dress’s strapless bodice accentuated her prominent collarbones, which flowed into a full-bodied, pleated skirt.
Ginny’s outfit shocked the crowd. She wore a strapless black dress that ended above the knee with a small slit on the right side. On top of the dress, she wore a one-shoulder Swaroski crystal dress. The net-like dress ended just above the knee, offsetting the length of the black slip, while the one-shoulder asymmetrical sleeves drew attention to her shoulders and collarbones while also guiding the eye to rake over her entire body. Ginny looked like a model with her dress, dangling diamond earrings, and black strappy heels.
Fresh off the runway in Milan, Blaise wore an all-black ensemble. Instead of a traditional button-down, Blaise wore a black mock-neck shirt underneath his suit jacket. The small cummerbund didn’t cover buttons like it traditionally should but created symmetry between the suit and shirt underneath.
Fashionable as always, Narcissa wore a silver strapless mermaid dress covered in sparkles with black opera gloves. As she danced with Draco, the tail of her dress swished around the dance floor. Narcissa exuded elegance and grace. Her signature black-and-blonde locks never fell out of place. The front pieces of her hair pulled back allowed her naturally high cheekbones to shine.
Finally, at quarter past eight, Theo and Bronson entered from the floo. Typically, a guest shouldn’t enter the floo during a party. Theo wanted to sneak into the manor for a grand entrance in the ballroom. Using the front door would’ve drawn attention to them too soon.
Theo and Bronson walked into the ballroom holding hands. Theo yelled, “He said yes,” as he thrust their hands into the air.
All one hundred guests cheered. Guests swarmed the newly engaged couple, bidding them congratulations and well wishes on their engagement and marriage. The party grew louder and more lively with the couple’s entrance and excellent news that followed. Blaise and Ginny danced for most of the night, laughing twirling.
Hermione walked up the couple, kissing both of them on the cheek, “Congratulations. I’m so happy for the two of you. I’m so grateful I get to celebrate with you tonight.”
Theo replied first, “Thanks, Hermione. I’m happy you’re here.”
“Thanks, cupcake. It’s wonderful to see you again. Draco and I have been meaning to get the four of us together for dinner sometime,” Bronson added.
“I’d love that. Can I owl you tomorrow and we’ll set a date?”
“Sounds perfect, cupcake.”
While Ginny socialized with the other guests she knew from playing quidditch, Blaise asked for Narcissa’s hand and led her to the dancefloor. Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka filled the room. The doo-wop song’s innocent and melodic melodies drew everyone to the dance floor.
Draco extended his hand to Hermione, “Care for a dance, Miss Granger?”
“And what if I fall, Mr. Malfoy?”
“I’ll catch you.”
By the time Draco and Hermione made their way to the dance floor, the song shifted to the soulful hit, You’re The First, The Last, My Everything, by Barry White. The faster tempo caused all the couples to move as one. Dress swished and swayed on the dancefloor while the men lifted their dance partners in the air.
Ahh, the first, my last, my everything
And the answer to all my dreams
You're my sun, my moon, my guiding star
My kind of wonderful, that's what you are
I know there's only, only one like you
There's no way, they could have made two
You're all I'm living for
Your love I'll keep for evermore
You're the first, you're the last, my everything
Although nearly 49 other couples moved with them on the dance floor, Draco and Hermione’s eyes never left each other. The sparkle of the moon reflected in Draco’s eyes; his everything stood before him. Before Hermione, Draco’s life wasn’t bleak. Before Hermione, Draco lived in an inner-city night sky. Sure, stars appeared at night, but they didn’t shine bright. With Hermione, every star in the sky shined. Together, they lived in a night sky untouched by humankind. Their sky wasn’t polluted; bright lights filled it. They could see the moon set while the sky turned purple. The Milky Way appeared to show them the beauty their intertwined souls created. Together, Draco and Hermione painted the sky. Every fragment in their souls merged to form the beautiful celestial bodies orbiting in the sky.
I know there's only, only one like you
There's no way they could have made two
Girl you're my reality
But I'm lost in a dream
You're the first, you're the last, my everything
No matter the tempo or genre of a song, Draco would dance with Hermione forever. This dance felt better than any samba Draco experienced before. He’d never moved like this before—it felt different. This time, the difference wasn’t just peace. This time, Draco felt whole.
The couples didn’t leave the dance floor. The band transitioned to Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley. Everyone slowed down and swayed their bodies with the soft melodies. Draco chuckled softly, “Merlin, this is fucking cliche.”
Hermione smiled at him, “What’s so wrong about being a cliche?”
“It’s just its cliche—”
As they continued to sway, Hermione replied, “I wouldn’t want us any other way.”
The music abruptly ended, and a glass began to clink. Theo stood on stage where the band played. He began, “I’d like to make a toast.”
One loses everything when
one loses one's sense of humor.
The crowd gave him their undivided attention. No one moved; everyone awaited Theo’s proclamation of love.
He continued, “I know for some of you, this engagement might feel rushed. If I weren’t about to marry a man, I’d be up here trying to convince you my fiancé isn’t pregnant.”
The crowd laughed. Theo wasn’t wrong; if his fiancé were female, the entire pureblood community would speculate on her due date.
“Life is fucking short; we’ve all seen how short it is. You never know when someone will pitch themselves off the astronomy tower in the name of love or when you’ll watch your loved one see green for the last time. I didn’t want to wait.”
Theo turned to face Bronson, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Bronson. Here’s to getting the happy ending we deserve.”
As the crowd clapped, Theo exited the stage. He bumped into Pansy, “I was wondering if you’d show up, Pans.”
“Of course, I’m here. Fucking idiot, why would I miss this?”
Draco and Hermione spotted Pansy and Theo; they walked over to greet the two of them. Draco beamed at Pansy. She’d been in France working on Paris Fashion Week.
Draco hugged Pansy and kissed her cheeks, “I’ve missed you, Pans.”
She lightly shoved him, “Yes, that’s wonderful, Draco. I’m here to meet Granger.”
Hermione looked baffled, “Me?”
“Is there another Granger I’m unaware of?”
Hermione nervously laughed, “Nope, just the one.”
“Great. Come with me; we have so much to discuss,” as Pansy guided Hermione away from the men and the dance floor, she looked at Hermione’s outfit, “I love your outfit. Excellent choice.”
Pansy and Hermione animatedly chatted for the next hour while Draco greeted former classmates and business associates. When Draco looked back, he noticed Ginny and Blaise joined Hermione and Pansy. Smiles and laughter filled the space between the four of them. Draco smiled to himself; they were blending.
Draco strode towards his friends across the room. When he reached them, he greeted Hermione, “Care for the last dance?”
Hermione smiled and walked with Draco to the dance floor. From behind them, he heard Blaise laugh, “Fucking whipped.”
Ginny replied, “I’m just glad they’re finally together, so I don’t have to listen to her pondering bullshit all day.”
Draco whispered in Hermione’s ear, “Our friends seem tired of us.”
She giggled, “You think?”
As they reached the dance floor, the band played the last song of the evening. Draco slightly chuckled to himself when the beat began.
Hermione inquired, “What’s so funny?”
“This song—”
“What about it?”
“I’ll tell you another time. Dance with me, Granger.”
Hermione grabbed Draco’s outstretched hand, and they moved with the steady rhythm of Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra.
Fly me to the moon
Let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like on
A-Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me
Hermione’s pleated skirt fanned out as Draco lifted her throughout their dance. Together, they danced with the intensity and determination of Baby and Johnny during Hungry Eyes.
Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you
Arms locked, their bodies moved like a dirty mambo. All eyes were on them. Everyone left the dance floor. Draco and Hermione didn’t notice. Their ballroom dance blended into mambo. They glided across the dance floor, Hermione twirling under Draco as they filled the space. Passion radiated between them; their moves were perfect. Their eyes stayed locked as they glided around one another. Draco lifted Hermione as her legs fell into perfect splits in the air; they spun around perfectly, just as they had been dancing around one another for months. The crowd cheered.
Fill my heart with song
Let me sing forevermore
You are all I long for, all I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words
In other words
I love you
Draco brought Hermione flush to his chest; she let her body fall, knowing Draco would catch her. As her body hung limp in his arms, Draco guided her to move in a crescent shape. Hermione spun, her back flush to his chest. She turned her head to look into his eyes; she raised her arm to cradle the back of Draco’s next. He gently brushed his hand down her arm and sides before lightly kissing her. The band played the last few beats of Sinatra’s famous tune before Draco and Hermione left their beautifully painted night sky and returned to Earth.
Narcissa rushed to the couple and hugged them both. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at the lovers. The love between them was endless.
Narcissa gushed, trying to hold back tears, “You two were wonderful.”
Hermione’s cheeks and chest turned a shade of red even Ginny wouldn’t be caught dead in.
“Thank you, Narcissa.”
“I know you two didn’t rehearse that. How did you do all those lifts and dips, Hermione?”
“I knew he’d catch me.”
~*~
Hermione exited the bathroom first after their shower. Draco finished his shower before heading to join Hermione in bed. Both of them were exhausted from socializing and dancing all night.
When Draco walked into his room, he saw Hermione sitting on his bed. She wore his Misfits t-shirt. She drowned in it but looked beautiful as always. Draco wouldn’t have ever thought Hermione Granger would be sitting in his bed, waiting for him, in his t-shirt after attending a party at his childhood home. He’d never been happier.
Draco strode to the bed, still naked from his shower, and leaned over Hermione. They beamed at one another, freshly in love. A thousand “I love you’s” wouldn’t suffice in conveying how deeply they felt for each other.
Hermione whispered in his ear, “You fell in love with a girl in your Misfits t-shirt.”
Notes:
A/N:
Special thanks to @Aykam for helping curate such beautiful outfits for this chapter.
The official Pinterest board for A Girl In A Misfits T-shirt: https://pin.it/6bTRRak
I hope everyone found all the Easter eggs hidden throughout.
Fun fact: Two of the quotes Hermione and Draco say to each other are things I've said to my boyfriend.
Mippy is borrowed, with permission, from the lovely Julie aka Lovesbitca8.
Songs, albums, etc... mentioned/referenced:
Babe, You Turn Me On: https://open.spotify.com/track/6Sw42FBzSL8JwgSHyPcXni?si=4fd5b68c191b4f77
Misfits T-shirt: https://open.spotify.com/track/2ZkWAGwx0UDKQSD9lmNecF?si=d2b39a19c96a4207
Dicked Down In Dallas: https://open.spotify.com/track/1yhft6ZqYadd4GOrKrmK3a?si=735fde5cf2f84818
You're The First, The Last, My Everything: https://open.spotify.com/track/3rqXP37YkEnizabzjM7uIu?si=3c8c9e62d30e45f8
Can't Help Falling In Love: https://open.spotify.com/track/44AyOl4qVkzS48vBsbNXaC?si=5d5530dfcddc4e06
Fly Me To The Moon: https://open.spotify.com/track/66wg8mmkyOHQwLKHj4ghdi?si=3d58c371821d4f7d
Hungry Eyes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sYKI4A3uhc
Time of My Life from Dirty Dancing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XINddkzfTzM
Chapter 4: Sojourner
Notes:
WARNING: This chapter features NSFW art.
As always, huge thanks to my beta @tomridswhorecrux. I'd also like to thank @malf0y101 for helping me write out of my comfort zone and giving me excellent feedback. Lastly, thank you to @chaotiquee for adding the funniest memes and "Wattpad" comments to the Google Doc; you never fail to make me laugh.
This chapter is dedicated to the woman who brought one of my favorite characters to life. Helen has become such a huge part of my identity during my time in the Dramione fandom. I’ve never had a pfp that hasn’t been her. She was such a strong and powerful woman who inspired a generation of badass young women.
Narcissa Malfoy neé Black lives on forever.
In Loving Memory of Helen McCrory
1968-2021
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It wasn't uncommon for Draco and to take Hermione out during the week. Meeting for after-work drinks had become a regular occurrence for the couple. That Thursday, the couple decided to go to SUBALTERN to relax and listen to the live band playing. Instead of the usual jazz, a blues filled the smoky room.
Sensual guitar blues drowned out the conversations around them. The band played a song neither Draco nor Hermione recognized. The male singer's voice incentivized couples to gather at the dance floor. As much as Draco begged and pleaded for Hermione to join him—she refused. Deciding to stay back, Hermione sipped on her drink and observed the scene around her.
I got no more tears to give you
I'm empty I'm dry
Draco's drink lightly splashed around as his hips rolled with the music. While he wasn't paying much attention, a blonde girl joined. Their gyrating hips caused Draco's drink to splash more excessively. The alcoholic beverage coated his hand and the floor; the sticky liquid didn’t deter him from continuing the rhythm of his hips.
Don't ask me question if you don't wanna hear my truth girl
I was ready to give up on us
Don't ask me why
The longer the guitar blues echoed throughout the swanky lounge—the more bodies flooded the makeshift dance floor. Haze surrounded all the dancers; the crowd merged into one as all the bodies swayed.
Tightly surrounded by bodies—Draco felt like a cog in the machine—finally invisible. The thick haze of cigar smoke and dim lights added to the anonymity Draco experienced on the dance floor. After decades of longing, Draco was nothing but a brick in the wall. He felt positively drunk on the feeling. Hiding behind the faces that surrounded him gave Draco the power he craved but hadn’t felt since childhood.
I'm blonde's hipe
A song without a title
A singer with no stage
Without much forethought, Draco used his free hand to grab the blonde’s hip in front of him. As his tight grip guided them, Draco tilted his head back to expose his Adam's apple and finish the remainder of his cocktail.
I'm empty
Completely bare
A cocktail waitress conveniently walked by, allowing Draco to place his empty glass on her tray. Smoke began to clear, breaking the mysterious haze that coated the dancers. Slowly, the curtain lifted, and everyone was on full display.
I can't feel you no more
I can't see you there
As the song slowed—nearing the finish—the blonde put her arms around Draco's neck. Instinct took over, and Draco rolled his hips forward—meeting hers. The blonde girl moved, so her back rested flush against Draco's hard chest. She reached her arm up—wrapped it around Draco's neck—and continued to dance with the sensual tune. Moving in a circle, Draco slowly spun them, so he faced the velvet booths in the lounge's corner. The final lyrics rolled off the singer's tongue—almost accentuating them.
He couldn't tell you why he looked up at that very moment, but he did.
I'm empty
His eyes immediately met Hermione's. She leaned against the front of their booth—eyes setting flames into Draco’s. His breath hitched. Neither moved. Finally breaking their staredown, Hermione tilted backward, grabbed her cocktail, and took an excruciatingly slow drink. His heart pounded. Anxiety rippled through his veins. The feeling bubbling inside Draco grew—Lucius would’ve rolled in his grave seeing his only son this terrified over the potential reaction of Hermione Granger.
When she set down the glass, her eyes asked Draco, "Want to explain that?"
After a long inhale and sharp exhale, Draco swallowed—his Adam's apple bobbed as his throat constricted. Draco didn't respond; his eyes conveyed nothing either. The blonde stood behind him, clearly confused, trying to grab his attention. Nothing broke the sharp gaze Draco and Hermione shared.
"The Blur," Hermione mouthed before heading towards the exit.
It took a moment for Draco to register her words. He didn't follow her immediately. He couldn't. No way. An intense feeling of impending doom loomed over Draco. He had no clue what he’d walk into when he arrived back at his flat. He wasn’t ready. He needed more time—more time being with Hermione—even if she wasn’t there. Instead, he swiftly headed towards the bar and ordered four shots—two silver bullets and two tequila slammers. The tequila slammers made Draco feel like he was 18 and going to American university parties again, but he knew he couldn't return to whatever disaster he created sober. First, he quickly downed the silver bullets. Two-thirds gin, one-third scotch, and a lemon twist flowed down his throat with ease. The tequila shooters didn't go down as easy—half tequila and half ginger beer shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.
Draco stumbled home, only taking a few breaks to lean against a building and attempt to calm his breathing. It took a few tries to get his house key inside the lock successfully; once he did, he took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
All that moved on the first floor of his flat was a record on his record player. Hermione, brilliant as ever, learned how to make playlists and put them onto records. Fantastic use of magic, Draco told her when she showed him. He immediately recognized the song playing, Red House by Jimi Hendrix. The choice in music further confused Draco.
Wait a minute, something's wrong here
The key won't unlock this door
Wait a minute, something's wrong
Lord have mercy, this key won't unlock this door
Something goin' on here
I have a bad, bad feeling
That my baby don't live here no more
(That's alright I still got my guitar, look out now!)
Jimi finished his second verse and moved into his guitar solo. The third verse came as Draco slowly crept up the stairs. This time, the world truly did stop around him. Jimi's mix of blues and rock stopped as well—his voice was replaced by a song Draco couldn't make out. Maybe he didn't know it; perhaps it was all in his head. Heartbreaking tunes on the piano and violin flooded his head. Cold by Jorge Mendez—Draco would learn the name of the saddest duet he'd ever heard seven years later. With each step, the intensity of the piano echoed through his heart while the violin sang his sorrows.
When he walked through the door—Draco was piss drunk. The song of his demise sobered him up slightly. Regret in every step, Draco reached the top of the stairs and closed his eyes, too afraid to look at Hermione for the last time. This was their end.
"Draco," Hermione purred.
Something inside of Draco snapped, the painful duet stopped, and the music from his record player returned; I Can't Quit You Baby by Led Zeppelin breathed life back into his veins. He'd never heard his given name on her tongue outside of a few moments in bed together.
He opened his eyes and immediately dropped to his knees. It was cliche, really fucking cliche, but he was Draco Malfoy, and cliches surrounded the last year of his life.
She stood before him wearing a form-fitting, full-lace with lace trim, black slip. The ensemble ended mid-thigh, and Hermione wore a matching black lace thong—her breasts were on full display underneath the triangle-shaped bodice. Black strappy heels completed the lingerie set, accentuating Hermione's toned calves and thighs.
I can't quit you baby
So I'm gonna put you down for awhile
I said I can't quit you baby
I guess I gotta put you down for awhile
Said you messed up my happy home
Made me mistreat my only child
Yes sir you did!
"Fuck," Draco muttered under his breath.
Hermione strode towards him, Led Zeppelin melodies drawing out the moment, letting each sway of her hips mesmerize Draco. When she finally reached him, she grabbed his chin, forcing him to stare up at her.
"Draco," Hermione breathed.
Timidly, but with awe, Draco responded, "Yes?"
"Are you going to explain what happened tonight?"
Draco gulped.
Hermione continued, "Show me.”
Nervousness evident in his voice, “Show you what?”
He knew she used his given name to torture him. Knew he loved the sound of it while it rolled off her tongue. This was torture. Punishment, maybe?
Draco rose, towering over Hermione's small frame. Oh, how he wished he could grab her, touch her, feel her against him. Draco had never seen Hermione in any sort of lingerie before. Tonight should've felt like his birthday, but it didn't because tonight could be his last.
What surprised him was her hand reaching towards him and cupping his growing erection. He inhaled sharply at the contact.
Said you know I love you baby
My love for you I could never hide
Oh, you know I love you baby
My love for you I could never hide
Oh when I feel you near me little girl
I know you are my one desire
As Hermione softly stroked his erection, Draco stared at the ceiling—biting his tongue, not wanting to make a sound. If he didn't speak, maybe just maybe, the moment would last forever.
He winched when she pulled her hand away.
“Show me how you’re going to make it up to me, Draco,” without losing eye contact, Hermione walked backward and moved up onto the bed.
Rooted to the spot, Draco just stared at her. Afraid to move. Afraid to speak. Pissed off his ass.
When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby,
You know it hurts me deep down inside
When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby,
You know it hurts me deep down inside
Oh, when you hear me, honey, baby,
You know you're my one desire
Yes, you are
With Draco silent, Hermione continued, “Show me. Or am I going to have to do it myself?”
While remaining their intense gaze, Hermione lifted her hand and gracefully put two fingers in her mouth. Draco couldn't help himself—his throat emitted a deep groan. She continued to suck on her fingers, eyes boring into Draco's until she removed them with a pop and let them travel down her body.
Her legs opened, giving Draco the perfect view of her glistening cunt. Hermione let her fingers lightly graze over herself. Her breath hitched at the delicate touch. It was obvious—Draco stood there rock hard. His erection grew with every movement Hermione made. As she continued to move her fingers over the lace knickers, she began to make soft moans. Her moans conveyed how much she was teasing herself. The sights and sounds drove Draco mad. He nearly lost it when she broke eye contact and threw her head back.
Bachelorette by Björk filled the flat right as Hermione sat up slightly and closed her legs. She gestured for Draco to walk towards the bed with her finger; obliging, Draco stumbled towards her, dragging his feet, so the moment lasted longer. Draco was anything but sure of what was occurring. Hermione had never taken this much charge when they'd be together. Never.
"What do you want right now, Draco?"
"You. You. Fuck—I want you," Draco breathed.
"Get on the bed,” she ordered, each syllable punctured through Draco’s drunken haze. Bed."
He'd always been dominant in bed. More than dominant. He was always in charge. With Hermione now taking the reins, Draco realized how insanely sexy her wanting him this badly was. That's what she wanted, right? Did she want him badly? Draco wasted no time obliging to Hermione's command. He scrambled backward on the bed, waiting for her following command.
Hermione undid Draco's belt buckle—rushed—like this was the last time, and she didn't want to waste a moment. Barely moving his boxers, she freed his aching cock. Everything moved too quickly. The sound of his buckle, the feeling of Hermione climbing onto him, everything. If this indeed was their last time, he didn’t want to miss a thing. He didn’t want to close his eyes. Hermione moved her knickers to the side and positioned Draco's cock at her entrance. Like she’d done it a million times before, Hermione dragged his cock against her slick, teasing him. This—this is better. Slower. I can do this; if this is the last time I—I’ll be okay. I love her. Fuck, I love her.
Both of them emitted a loud moan when she slid down onto him.
Needing to feel the walls of Hermione's cunt drag against his cock, Draco grabbed her hips. Ready to bounce her on top of his cock. Hermione spoke.
"Second pair of hips you've grabbed tonight."
His hands dropped immediately.
Oh, fuck me. Sodding idiot. I want to touch her so badly. Please, Hermione, please let me touch you. Let me grab you. Gods, I’m such a fucking idiot. How does she not know she has the most beautiful hips I’ve ever seen? The only—only ones I want—for the rest of my pathetic life.
Without his hands guiding her, Hermione rolled her hips so slowly Draco thought his cock might burst from the tension building inside him. This is fucking excruciating; I just want to hold her. Please, please, please fuck let me hold you. Draco covered his eyes with his hands, unable to form a thought; he just wanted to enjoy the pleasure for as long as possible.
Once Hermione picked up the pace, creating a good rhythm, she spoke, "Want to tell me why my hips aren't the first you grabbed tonight?"
Gasping from the intense pleasure, he responded, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—I don't know, Granger. I don't know."
"Did you want her fucking you like this tonight?"
"No. No—Merlin, no."
This being her first time on top, Hermione decided to experiment with motions. She fluctuated between bouncing and rolling her hips, which significantly increased her pleasure. Her pleasure increased intensely.
Finally, Draco's hands moved to her hips and guided them. He didn't know how the hell she never got tired. She kept riding him faster and faster —he was sure he'd never seen anything hotter in his whole life.
Hermione Granger's tits bounced while she rode Draco's cock. That's a sight he never thought he'd get to see, and he relished in it.
The record players downstairs switched songs again; Chanel Perfume by Derik Fein playing somehow made Hermione look even hotter as she circled her hips. The slight change in movement nearly sent Draco over the edge.
High off love
Loves a drug
Young and old
I crave y our soul
Between ragged breaths, Draco poured, "Want you. Fuck. Want you—like this. Want you just like this—every night. Want to see you bouncing on top of my cock for the rest of my life."
"Oh fuck, Draco. T—Tell me that you're mine. That I'm yours."
"You're mine. You're fucking mine. No one else's. Not sodding Weasleys, not Blaises, certainly not anyone else's. Mine. Fucking, mine. I'm yours, Hermione."
Those summer nights
Summer nights in June
Your sweet Chanel perfume
I'm drunk in love drunk in love with you
Baby I'm a savage for the dirty little things you do
Both of them neared their climax. His cock twitched, signaling the release of the building pressure. Draco's dominant nature emerged as he began bucking his hips while Hermione rode him. The combination caused both of them to scream in pure pleasure.
You're my ecstasy
Fire gasoline
You can pour yourself
Right on top of me
Deviating from the norm, Draco felt his cock twitch, and he gripped Hermione tighter to take control fully. He canted into her with fever as his orgasm washed over him. Fireworks exploded inside him; the intense and explosive pleasure blinded him. A rocket shooting for the stars, the ones they painted together.
Seeing Draco's eyes roll to the back as his mouth hung wide and head tipped back—Hermione followed with her climax.
Following a combination of staggered breaths, Hermione rolled off of Draco and snuggled her body against his—her head laid on his chest and arm draped over his body.
He didn't know if he could let go of her if she left him. He never wanted to let go.
It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t fucking worth it. Gods, I’m a right git—a sodding idiot. Why would I have ever thought those 5 minutes outside of myself would be worth it? I can’t let her go. What am I going to do if she makes me let her go?
"Malfoy?"
"Back to Malfoy now?"
"Why did you dance with that girl tonight?"
I can’t tell her. I can’t fucking tell her. There’s no way. She wouldn’t understand. She didn’t spend the majority of her life wishing she was an invisible gear in the machine—silently turning while everyone else carried on.
"Honestly? I'm not sure, Granger. I was dancing, and then she was there. I just went with it."
Does she believe me? I think she might believe me. Never again. Never again, Draco. I am not losing her. You got your fix—time to let it go. I have to let the dream go. I have to face it; no matter how large or small the pond, I’ll never stop being a big fish. A night as Draco Malfoy dating Hermione Granger is worth more than a lifetime of anonymity.
"I don't share."
"Neither do I."
"We'll see about that," Hermione smirked.
~*~
Tuesday night pontoon quickly became a tradition of the past with the arrival of Hermione. Neither Blaise nor Theo could blame Draco—he was fucking happy. For the first time in weeks, the boys met for pontoon on Tuesday night just as they had for years.
As the Slytherins drank firewhiskey, Blaise asked, "What color is Granger wearing to the Solstice ball?"
Draco choked up, "Uh—she's not coming."
Blaise looked beyond confused, "Why isn't she coming?"
"I haven't invited her."
"Why haven't you invited her? Sodding idiot," Theo rolled his eyes.
Sheepishly, Draco replied, "Not sure."
Blaise and Theo rolled their eyes at their best friend's insecurity and idiocracy. Laughter exchanged between the three of them felt good—normal. Their lives continued to grow and change, but the bond between them never wavered. Theo was off to get married in a few months, Draco found Hermione, and Blaise—well—Blaise was hopefully not fucking Narcissa Malfoy.
As always, Theo won every round of pontoon. It was a miracle that Blaise and Draco even tried to beat him anymore. Somehow, Theo cheated; they were sure of it.
Theo perked up, "Mate, do you know who Bronson ran into last week?"
"No," Draco answered, clearly bored, "Who?"
"Adrian," Theo said animatedly, "and Granger."
Blaise, seemingly interested, "Pucey and Granger? That's fucking random."
Both boys turned to gauge Draco's reaction. If you didn't know Draco, you wouldn't think anything was out of the ordinary. Theo and Blaise knew better; his body language spoke volumes.
Attempting to clean up his mistakes, Theo added, "Bronson told me they ran into each other while separately eating lunch at The Blackbird and ended up sitting together."
Loud exhales continuously poured out of Draco's mouth. Attempting to keep his cool—he tightly balled his hands into fists.
He knew that if he showed just how insecure he was about his relationship with Hermione—he'd never hear the end of it from Wayne and Garth.
As much as Draco loved his best mates, they were the last people on Earth he'd trust with relationship advice. Even though Theo recently proposed, he was still a sodding idiot in Draco's eyes.
"Oh, by the way, I'm seeing Weasley," Blaise proclaimed.
"I know, Granger told me," Draco patted his friend on the back, "Happy for you, mate."
"Two of my best mates dating Gryffindors?" Theo added, "Yuck."
Freedom (n.):
To ask nothing.
To expect nothing.
To depend on nothing.
"And look, Theo, You're dating a Muggleborn," Blaise retorted.
Draco moved the conversation in a serious direction, "We all get to date whoever the fuck we want. We got to say sod it all. I hope the bastard is rolling in his grave right now."
Theo looked at his friends, "We're free, you sappy pieces of shit."
During their final round of pontoon, with Theo already ahead, Draco couldn't help but think how he wasn't free and didn't want to be. For the first time in years, Draco depended on someone, and he was okay with it. He didn't have to be alone anymore—he got to choose, and he chose Hermione.
~*~
Hermione and Pansy spent copious amounts of time together ever since meeting at Theo and Bronson's engagement party. The two girls spent at least two of their lunch breaks a week together. If Draco didn't love Pansy so much as a friend, he'd think it was quite odd his ex-girlfriend and current girlfriend fastly became best friends. It made Draco happy. Slowly, Pansy infiltrated Hermione's wardrobe, trying to give her a Pansy makeover. Although Draco loved seeing Hermione dressed up, he enjoyed how she dressed before. He fell in love with a girl in a Misfits T-shirt.
For over a week, Theo and Draco planned their surprise double date with Bronson and Hermione. The preparation took hours and lots of coordination with one another and the Ministry. Pansy begged Draco to tell her the plans so she could style Hermione for the date. He hoped Hermione didn't think he was trying to change the way she dressed.
On Saturday after lunch, Hermione and Bronson met Draco and Theo at Draco's flat. Meeting at Draco's flat was the easiest option for everyone. Pansy styled Hermione in medium wash straight leg jeans with a rip in the left knee. For her top, Hermione wore a dainty white cropped camisole. Blue butterflies in various positions, as if they were flying, covered the top. For some warmth, she wore a white cropped cardigan. Hermione's hair was blow-dried, and two clips pulled the front pieces of her hair out of her face. When Draco noticed her shoes—he smiled—she wore white converse. In terms of jewelry, Hermione wore a simple gold band on her middle finger.
Draco kissed Hermione on the cheek when she walked in through the floo. He whispered in her ear, “Mal posso esperar para passar o dia contigo.”
Following the welcome greeting, the four friends grabbed the same rose Draco and Hermione had before. Upon arriving at their destination, Hermione stumbled, causing Draco to reach out to steady her. They landed in an alley in downtown Porto, Portugal. Bronson spoke first, "Are we in Portugal?"
Theo nodded his head, "We are."
Hermione's eyes wandered as they headed further downtown, "It's beautiful."
Draco put his arm around her and kissed her temple. They walked around admiring the architecture for the next two hours. It was the first time the group got the ability to all talk and got to know one another. Their group introduction at the engagement party was brief at best. Hermione and Bronson walked ahead of Draco and Theo and talked nonstop. Every so often, Hermione would look back and flash Draco her signature dentist's-child smile.
They reached the surprise Draco knew Hermione would love the most. Typically incredibly busy, Draco rented out the entire space for Hermione that afternoon; he wanted her to experience the magic and beauty without hundreds of tourists. When Draco abruptly stopped, Hermione looked confused. Slowly, she turned and gasped. There stood Livraria Lello; its cream color and intricate architecture set it apart from the adjacent buildings.
The inside of the famous bookstore was heaven on Earth for Hermione. The staircase looked almost like a guitar as it winded up to the second floor. Stairs painted red and intricate carvings created magic. At the top of the stairs, the ceiling held a beautiful stained glass window. On the first floor, the ceilings blue and gold moldings allowed the eye to wander for kilometers. Every aspect of Livraria Lello created a surreal atmosphere.
Hermione bolted inside and began to drag her fingers along the books' spines on the first floor. With Hermione adequately entranced, Draco walked towards the bookshop owner and spoke to him in Portuguese.
Draco snuck up on Hermione, causing her to gasp and turn around. A flash of blue caught Draco's eye.
He inquired, "Picked out a new book?"
"It's for you, actually—it's my favorite."
Hermione slowly handed Draco the book, almost shyly, baring all of herself to him. Giving Draco her favorite book was the most intimate part of herself Hermione could give.
Draco read aloud, " The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand."
She nodded, trying to hide her blush, "It taught me about myself more than anything else ever has. I quite relate to Howard Roark."
"If he's anything like you—I know I'm going to love this," Draco gave Hermione a simple kiss on the forehead like he'd do it for the rest of his life.
In response, Hermione's face melted into a smile. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Draco. On their way out, Draco waved to the shopkeeper before meeting up with Theo and Bronson once more.
All four friends stood in the same dark alley they arrived in; Draco pulled a small figurine of Christ the Redeemer out of his pocket. Theo looked at his arm, noticing the time on his watch, and nodded to Draco.
Hermione, curious as always, asked, "Christ the Redeemer?"
Draco laughed, "Well, grab the sodding thing, Hermione. Otherwise, we'll be late."
As she replied, "Wait, what? Late?" All of them were whisked away just as they arrived in Portugal in the afternoon, they arrived at their newest destination.
Just as she always did, Hermione wobbled upon landing, Draco held her steady once more. They stood at the base of the closed Christ the Redeemer. All the city lights of Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. Instead of the moon lighting up the water, hundreds of boats imitated the moon. Nothing can replace the moon, Draco thought.
Gasping became Hermione's new love language—a form of appreciation. She slowly turned in a circle, admiring the view with her eyes glued to every detail of the city below her.
Theo announced to Hermione and Bronson, "You two up for a night in Rio?"
Bronson chuckled while he bent down to hug Hermione, kissing the top of her head affectionately, "We sure got us some posh boyfriends, Hermione. Two countries on one date?"
Pretending to be offended, Theo replied, "Excuse me—it's fiancé —not boyfriend."
Draco turned to Hermione, "Here's the best place to change. Pansy packed for you, right?"
Hermione nodded, "Yeah, although I haven't seen it yet. Pansy told me she'd make sure I had access to it when I needed to. Quite ominous if you ask me."
Like the cliche he is, Draco's breath hitched when Hermione walked towards him; he needed to thank Pansy for this. Hermione's orange tie-dyed, almost acid-washed, corset bodice created structure and accentuated her breasts. Showing off her figure, the skirt of the silk dress wrapped around her body, putting nearly her entire left leg on display. Silk fell just past her knee on the left side of her leg—allowing for the wrap style to accentuate her toned thigh. The bright orange silk complimented her olive skin.
"Fuck—Granger—you look incredible," Draco slid his fingers over the lower half of his face.
In place of his traditional—mainly black—wardrobe, Draco wore all white. He rolled the sleeves of his white linen button-down shirt, showing off his dark mark. White trousers matched the airy linen on top. He oozed—Latin summer nights—Hermione's eyes grew dark seeing him.
Theo loudly whispered to Bronson, "10 Galleons they do the horizontal samba the second we get back to London."
Bronson looked sideways at Theo, "15 says all their clothes are off before we fully step into Draco's floo."
Both men smirked while Hermione and Draco eye fucked one another, "You're on."
The couples walked towards the central part of Rio. Chatter never ceased between all of them. Theo and Bronson seemed enamored with Hermione; Draco smiled to himself, knowing he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing exactly this.
Just as promised, the samba returned. Under his breath—Draco Malfoy laughed—the music pouring through him was ironic. Here he was, with his best friends and the girl he loved, and the samba grinding through his bones had sad sodding lyrics.
Paulinho Da Viola's rhythmic Coração Leviano moved Draco down the road with his friends. Strums of guitar and the steady tune brought Draco back to the first night he asked Hermione to dinner. This time—the London Symphony Orchestra didn't replace his heart. This time—the groove of his body had been completely taken over by the upbeat melodies. How could a song so sad have such a lively and rhythmic tune?
Trama em segredo teus planos
Parte sem dizer adeus
Nem lembra dos meus desenganos
Fere quem tudo perdeu
Ah coração leviano não sabe o que fez do meu
Ah coração leviano não sabe o que fez do meu (mas trama)
Este pobre navegante meu coração amante
Enfrentou a tempestade
No mar da paixão e da loucura
Fruto da minha aventura
Em busca da felicidade
Ah coração teu engano foi esperar por um bem
De um coração leviano que nunca será de ninguém
As the four friends reached the restaurant, the samba paused. Draco knew it would begin again—when he needed it—the samba would flow through his veins once more. For the first time, Portuguese flew around him.
Bright reds, purples, blues, and greens lit up the outdoor restaurant. All the colors reflected off the palm trees surrounding the tables. To their right, the Atlantic Ocean shone from the lights of the ocean-front restaurants.
When the server approached their table—Theo and Draco both ordered the traditional cocktail—Rabo-de-Galo. Served in a large shot glass, the cocktail featured the iconic Brazilian rum—cachaça. One-third parts vermouth, Cynar, and Orange Bitters rounded out the drink. In the spirit of new tendencies, Hermione ordered a lesser-known cocktail—Bossa Nova. The Bossa Nova's base was also rum and served in a Collins glass. Apricot brandy, Galliano, and pineapple juice combined with the rum created a refreshing and crisp beverage.
Bronson turned to the server, “Pode dar-me uma caipirinha, por favor?”
Theo's mouth gaped, "You speak Portuguese?"
Bronson nodded before Draco laughed as the server walked away, "Couldn't you at least have tried to pick something unique?"
Hermione playfully slapped Draco, "Leave him alone—it's the national cocktail for a reason."
After all their drinks arrived, Bronson made a point to enjoy his drink animatedly. A caipirinha is served in an old-fashioned glass with muddled brown sugar and four lime wedges. Once everything is muddled, the bartender adds ice to the glass and pours two-third part cachaça over the ice, and stirs. A simple lime garnished the glass—green swam around the drink.
Draco ordered food for Hermione and himself—ordering the traditional fish stew—moqueca. Diced tomatoes and coriander combined with fish, shrimp, in this case, combined with annatto seeds and coconut milk, created a light and refreshing meal. Bronson took charge for Theo and himself. Their hearty meat stew took 24 hours to cook—feijoada features a combination of black beans, sausages, and various cuts of pork. Bronson explained to Theo he chose the dish because of Brazilian tradition to eat the stew on Wednesdays and Saturdays.
Everyone snacked on their entrees when Hermione turned to Draco, "Why'd you get the moqueca for yourself? Instead of the feijoada with Bronson and Theo?"
Theo couldn't contain his laughter—Draco shot him a death glare, causing the laughter to increase. Hermione stared at Theo with a, 'What's so funny?' look on her face.
Whipping tears from his eyes, Theo spoke to Draco, "Are you going to tell her, or am I?"
Draco's death glare didn't cease. Theo continued, "I guess this is my cue. Granger, Draco doesn't eat meat."
The puzzled look on Hermione's face remained, "And...that is funny...because?"
Under his breath, Draco muttered, "Fuck you, Theo."
Looking back and forth between the couple, Theo realized he needed to continue, "Draco here," gesturing to his friend, "stopped eating, hmmm what did he call it—anything that walks—a few months ago."
Draco buried his head into his hands at the dinner table. Theo turned to Bronson, attempting to explain what had just occurred.
"I know she only eats seafood, you arse. I pay attention," Bronson cut Theo off.
On a roll, Theo pressed further, smirking, "Granger, what's your favorite color?"
Draco shot up, his face bright red, "Theo—if you don't sod off right now—"
"You'll what, Draco?"
Confused, Hermione pulled at Draco's arm, gesturing for him to sit down. "It's light green—my favorite color is light green."
Bronson, just as confused as Hermione, shrugged his shoulders. Theo gestured to Draco, "See, now you know. There isn't anything stopping you now."
Growing enraged, Draco spat, "Shut. Up. Theo."
"Stopping you from what, Malfoy?"
"Nothing, Granger. Nothing at all," Draco glared at Theo viciously.
I've always thought that a feeling that changes
never existed in the first place.
Suddenly, the samba returned. Draco was right—when he needed it—the samba returned.
Draco recognized the chimes of the beginning of Magalenha by Sérgio Mendes. As the first verse ended, Draco made his decision. Slowly, he rose from his chair and faced Hermione. Couples began filling the dancefloor, energy flying through the patio.
Te te te te te te
Te te te te te te
Te te te te te te
Draco extended his hand, "Let me take you out for a spin?"
Hermione nodded, "Is there a reason for the samba?"
"It only feels right to samba in Rio."
"Nowhere else?"
"Nowhere else."
Draco guided them towards the dance floor. Hermione's hand stayed gently placed on top of his. The moment they reached the other dancers, they began to move in tandem. As their hips swayed together, moving across the floor and avoiding the other couples, they drew a crowd of onlookers.
Calangulango, do calango da pretinha
To cantando essa mudinha pra senhora se lembrar
Daquele tempo que vivia la na roça
Com uma filha na barriga e outra filha pra criar
Hermione's dress spun beautifully with the movements of their dance. No matter how fast the tempo got, they remained in tune. The move that caught everyone's attention was Draco spinning Hermione out towards the dance floor center. From there, they danced while remaining apart. A string connected their hips and torsos—even apart, their bodies moved as one.
Vem Magalenha rojão, traz a senha pro fogão te te te coração
Hoje é um dia de sol, alegria de xodó, meu dever de verão
Vem Magalenha rojão, traz a senha pro fogão te te te coração
Hoje é um dia de sol, alegria de xodó, meu dever de verão
They finished as Hermione—for the first time—extended her hand for Draco. For a few more beats, they glided across the floor. Magalenha ended as Hermione spun into Draco's arms—raised her knee— and fell back into his arms.
Panting, Hermione and Draco smiled at one another. Their movements suggested they'd be dancing with each other for a very long time. Forever, maybe?
Music changed around them as they stayed looking into the other's eyes. Without them noticing, a live band set up at the edge of the dance floor. Tony Evans Dancebeat Studio Band performed their rendition of the 1999 hit song— Bailamos by Enrique Iglesias.
Esta noche bailamos
Te doy toda mi vida
Quédate conmigo
Draco whispered in her ear, "Think you can handle one more, Granger?"
Hermione shuddered at his sensual words and breath, "I could dance with you forever, Malfoy."
"Forever is a long time, Granger."
"I know."
In an almost theatrical manner, Draco moved behind Hermione, bent forward slightly, and grazed his fingertips against her upper calves and thighs. Slowly, his movements caused Hermione to straighten her body slightly. Then, he gently rose her right arm before spinning her first outward and then inward towards him.
Hermione's outer thigh gently pushed between Draco's legs—connecting them in the movement.
Slowly, Draco moved Hermione's head in a circle with the arm it rested on. Together, they glided across the now empty dance floor.
Tonight I'm yours
We can make it happen I'm so sure
Won't let it go
There is something I think you should know
I won't be leaving your side
We're gonna dance through the night
I'm gonna reach for the stars
Just like the engagement party, Draco dipped Hermione. The dip was slight, just enough for her head to drop. Promptly, he pulled her back up—flush with his chest.
The string between them never broke. Their hips swayed as one—Hermione's turns always landed her right where Draco stood. Hermione's back grew flush with Draco's chest before she slowly and gracefully raised her left leg in a final spin. Draco's hands gently caressed her leg as it straightened directly in front of them. When her outstretched leg came flush with her face, she reached her arms overhead and swayed them across each other. The restaurant onlookers clapped, but Hermione and Draco didn't hear them. Together, they stayed amongst the stars.
Bailamos, let the rhythm take you over
Bailamos
Te quiero amor mío, bailamos
Gonna live this night forever
Bailamos
Te quiero amor mío, te quiero
As Hermione's arms fluttered down, Draco turned her hips slightly and opened her leg to the side. They stayed like that for less than a moment. He slowly began turning her entire body and lowering her leg to the floor—while Draco guided her leg Hermione let her torso fall over his other arm. Her head hung with her arms until Draco wrapped her right leg around his thigh and guided her to cross his body—he held her completely. Gently, her foot touched the floor, and they spun around one another once more.
Their finish was neither dramatic nor impressive. Draco and Hermione just stayed in the other's arms. Their pants and intense eye contact spoke volumes for what they'd just experienced together. Coming down from ecstasy, they heard the loud applause the audience erupted in.
Returning to business as usual, the band started to play the gentle thrum of Ricky Martin while everyone returned to finish their meals. Casi un Bolero set the relaxing tone for the rest of everyone's meals.
Esta maldita soledad
Viene conmigo y conmigo va
Con tu foto sobre mi piel
Suena en mi corazón
Casi un bolero
While accepting the praises of Theo and Bronson, Hermione pondered, "Interesting song choice."
Bronson questioned in response, "Why do you say that, cupcake?"
"It's just—so sad."
Draco lightly ran his hand up and down her forearm, "Just because it's sad doesn't mean it isn't beautiful."
"Emo 6th year Draco making an appearance? I'm not ready for this one," Theo chuckled.
Y ojala estuvieras junto a mí esta vez
Y muchas más
Y ojala te viera junto a mí otra vez
Y muchas más
La tristeza que te canto
Se la va llevando el viento
“Draco’s right, Theo,” Bronson interjected.
"My best mate and fiancé teaming up against me? My corazón is shattered."
Hermione giggled, "Watch out, boys, Theo might become the next Rosetta Stone."
Theo looked bewildered, "A Rosetta, what?"
"Rosetta Stone, Theo. Gods, even I know this. It's a giant slab of stone with multiple carvings of various scripts—it helped us understand how to read Egyptian hieroglyphs. Oh, and it's a company that teaches Muggles new languages now," Draco rolled his eyes.
"How on Earth do you know that?" Everyone at the table looked shocked, Hermione more so.
"Which part, the hieroglyphs or the software?"
Now it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes, "The software. I'd be disappointed if you didn't know about the hieroglyphics."
"I used it as an easy way to explain to Muggles why I know six languages; I couldn't very well tell them I have superhuman wizard brainpower."
Hermione crossed her arms and looked at him defiantly, "If superhuman wizard brainpower is how you know six languages—why do I only know one?"
Theo attempted to interject, "Well—it could be because you're—"
"Let's not start with the Mudblood nonsense tonight," Bronson patted his lover's shoulder.
Completely baffled, "I swear—I wasn't going to," Theo pleaded Hermione with his eyes.
"It's fine, Theo. My Mudblood brains could beat whatever is going on in that pretty little pureblood head of yours."
Theo smirked, "Hear that, Draco? Your girlfriend thinks I'm pretty."
La Bomba by Ricky Martin played as Draco got the check. As always, he refused to let his friends and girlfriend pay. He gave everyone his signature snarky remark about his Gringotts vault becoming too full and needing to make some space.
La bomba
Es una bebida
Que va cambiando tu vida
Una gotita de nada
Te vuelve loca
Loca divertida
"Can you imagine slow dancing to this? Thank Merlin, you two aren't still on the dance floor," Theo laughed.
"I think we could make it work," Hermione smirked, "Don't you think so, Malfoy?"
Agua de risa
Con unas gotas de rosa
Y una aceituna sabrosa
Y en lo caliente (súbelo, súbelo)
Esa es la bomba
"I think," Draco leaned to whisper in her ear, "We can do absolutely anything," he smirked.
Hermione giggled while Theo fake gagged, "You two are disgusting."
Muévete mamita que me vuelvo loco
Emborrachadita de la bomba estás
Cosa linda, cosa mona
Sube sube que la bomba va
Bronson rushed to Draco and Hermione's defense, "Babe, do you even know what this song is saying?"
Theo scoffed jokingly, "Does it make a difference?"
In unison—Bronson, Hermione, and Draco said, "Yes."
Que noche movida
Intensamente vivida
Te vas quedando colgada
Inofensiva
Pura enamorada
Hermione turned to face Theo, "The lyrics aren't what you think they're going to be."
"Well—what are they? Why don't you give Spanish a go, Granger?"
Mira guapa
Sale volando la ropa
Sigue bailando la luna (menéalo, menéalo)
Luna gatuna (súbelo, súbelo)
Esa es la bomba
Cosa linda, cosa mona
Sube sube que la bomba va
Hermione accepted Theo's challenge, "I'll go line by line on the last verse."
Draco looked shocked, and Theo leaned back in his chair, gesturing to Hermione, "Be my guest."
She began, "Look beautiful," she paused, "The clothes are flying off," Hemione looked at Bronson and Draco's shocked faces.
"The moon keeps on dancing (shake it, shake it)," now she fully faced Theo, "Cat moon (turn it up, turn it up)," their eye contact didn't cease, "That's the bomb."
After the final line, Hermione produced a deadly Draco Malfoy smirk.
Astonished, Draco spoke first, "How did you know that?"
"I took Spanish in primary school before Hogwarts," she shrugged.
Theo looked defeated; he hated losing, "And you still remember it?"
"I'd say it's my superhuman witch brain," her smirk returned.
While Bronson consoled Theo over his defeat, Draco turned to Hermione. He brought his lips mere centimeters from her ear.
"Esta noche," Hermione nodded in response to him, "No vas a hablar en inglés".
"Entonces, ¿qué voy a hablar?"
"Cada gemido, cada jadeo, cada vez que pidas más, será en español, Granger".
Hermione's breath hitched; she spoke so quietly only Draco could hear her, "Sí."
He couldn’t hold in his groan, "No tenía ni idea de lo sucio que podías ser".
She smirked, “Hay muchas cosas que no sabes de mí"
"Esta noche, muéstrame."
Bronson's yawn snapped them out of their sensual haze. It was well past midnight in London—their cue to head home. Everyone walked back to Christ the Redeemer to portkey home. Their walk wasn't long, but they moved slowly—enjoying the music coming from the various houses and bars.
Rrr, sabor
"I think I know this song. It's different than I remember," Bronson spoke to the entire group.
“Oye Cómo Va,” Hermione responded.
"Then why does it sound different? If I know it?"
Theo shrugged when Bronson turned to him, clearly having not heard the song before.
Oye como va
Bueno pa’ gozar, mulata
Oye como va mi ritmo
Bueno pa’ gozar, mulata
"This is the original version by Tito Puente," Draco said, clearly feeling superior.
"I didn't know there were two versions," Bronson looked defeated.
"Clearly," Draco rolled his eyes.
Oye como va
Bueno pa’ gozar, mulata
Oye como va mi ritmo
Bueno pa’ gozar, mulata
"Be nice, Malfoy," Hermione nudged him.
"Uh—right. Sorry, mate. The Santana version is better anyway," Draco said sheepishly.
Hand in hand, the couples all grabbed the Christ the Redeemer figurine and transported themselves back into the living room of Draco's London flat. Quite quickly, Bronson and Theo made their way to the floo for a swift exit.
When Theo and Bronson turned to wave goodbye from the floo entrance, Draco spoke, "I'll take those twenty-five galleons—if you don't mind."
Stunned, they shuttered, "Uh—"
"I'll see you two later," Draco laughed.
Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and led him up the stairs of a million books. She sat at the edge of the bed to remove her heels when Draco swiftly got down on one knee and began to remove the heels for her. Once they both made it to the bathroom to shower, Hermione buried her head into Draco's chest. Home. Both of them felt at home.
"Malfoy, what was that about downstairs? The twenty-five galleons?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all, my love," Draco kissed her forehead before stepping into the steaming water.
~*~
Narcissa invited Draco and Pansy to dinner at Malfoy Manor. Unfortunately, Pansy had a business dinner to attend and could only commit to dessert. With the increase in Draco’s business and the Solstice Ball being around the corner, Draco and Narcissa saw each other less frequently. Whenever they did, they both made a point to cherish the time as much as possible.
Herman and Mippy apparated into the small dining room with a crack and served the mother and son their main course. Opting for a light summer meal, Narcissa requested a grilled salmon marinated in miso and lemon along with roasted broccolini, carrots, and zucchini.
Putting down her fork and napkin; Narcissa insinuated she wanted to have a longer conversation with her son.
“Blaise tells me you haven’t invited Hermione to the Ball?”
“Merlin, why do you hear everything from Blaise ?”
“I hear everything from Blaise because he spends the most time with me these days,” Narcissa rolled her eyes, “I’d hear things from you if you weren’t always so busy.”
“Stop—I do not need to hear about all the time you’re spending with my best mate.”
“Draco—what on Earth are you on about?”
“I’ll invite Hermione. Happy?”
Narcissa smiled, “Incredibly.”
Narcissa clearly had something up her sleeve; every time Draco looked up at her she’d already been smirking at him. After ten minutes of incessant staring and smirking, Draco put his cutlery down and glared at his mother.
“Why have you been staring and smirking at me like you know something that I don’t for the past ten minutes?”
Her smirk didn’t let up, “Theo told me something the other day.”
“And what is that, mother?”
“Theo tells me that you recently learned Hermione’s favorite color.”
Draco grimaced, “Sodding Theo. Merlin. Damnit. Fucker can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“Draco, when are you going to do it?”
He hung his head; pent-up emotions begging to be released, “I don’t know. I—I really don’t know.”
Narcissa rose and moved to his side of the table to engulf her only son in a hug. She rubbed circles on his back like she did when he was a child; she could tell something seriously bothered him.
“My dragon, look at me,” Draco looked at his mother, “Are you going to do it? At all?”
“I—I’m nervous.”
Naricssa cradled his head, “Oh my dragon, I’m so proud of you.”
“What if she says no?”
“Well, did you catch her?”
“I think I did.”
“She’ll say yes.”
“How can you be so sure, mother?”
“I can tell—she caught you too.”
~*~
Draco would've died one hundred times if that meant he got to see the look on Hermione's face when she walked up the stairs at Variabilis that Wednesday.
Standing next to Draco, waiting to meet Hermione, was Brita Swift. It was apparent, from the look on her face, that she attempted to control her excitement. Ever since Draco gave her Constellations and Roses, Hermione nonstop raved about Brita. For two weeks, she read everything Brita published.
A child on Christmas would've been less animatedly excited. Over the next few hours, Draco simply sat back and observed. Brita and Hermione spoke like they'd been best friends since primary school.
I love you, Dominique. As selfishly as the fact that I exist.
As selfishly as my lungs breathe air. I breathe for my own necessity,
for the fuel of my body, for my survival. I've given you, not my sacrifice or my pity,
but my ego and my naked need. This is the only way I can want you to love me
The admiration on Draco's face was evident. A man on the moon could look down at him and see the love in his eyes while he simply watched Hermione be excited.
Once Hermione finished spending the evening with Brita, she ran to Draco and engulfed him in a hug. Around Hermione—Draco felt like he could breathe again.
No, Hermione didn't save Draco, and he didn't save her; they did more than that. Together, they took all the pain they once harbored—and used it to paint the night sky. Every star that lingered over London was breathed out of them. One star for the word Mudblood carved into Hermione's skin. Another for the years of childhood Draco lost to Voldemort's habitation of his home.
Draco and Hermione left all their past mistakes, aches, and pains in the sky—moving forward—waiting for the day the stars would finally explode. It took every bit of suffering and turned it into the most beautiful thing they could imagine—a supernova. The stars waited to meet their end this time while Draco and Hermione moved forward to create something much bigger than a star.
All of space had to explode for them to find one another. They didn't mind; there's beauty in destruction, right?
Draco grabbed the sides of Hermione's face, "You taught me to remember to live."
Hermione's face softened, a smile formed, "You were always an emerald—unpolished at first—but still an emerald. You made yourself shine, not me, you."
"What did I do to deserve you, Granger?"
"You lived."
~*~
On June 6, 2006, the morning of Draco’s birthday, he ate breakfast with his mother at Malfoy Manor. Banana pancakes on the morning of his birthday at the manor became a tradition that Draco never missed. Even during his break from England, Draco returned to spend the morning of his birthday with his mum.
Narcissa Malfoy greeted her son at the floo with the biggest hug she could muster. Draco returned her hug with as much love and gratitude. His entire life, Narcissa meant everything to him. His mum took on the role of two parents—gave him the love he lacked from Lucius.
Mippy called the mother and son; signaling breakfast was ready. The pair walked to the pergola and ate their pancakes, enjoying the fresh morning air. Everything felt tranquil—flowers blossomed, and birds chirped. It felt like heaven.
“Happy birthday, my dragon,” Narcissa spoke.
“Thank you. I love you, mum.”
Mippy and Herman brought out the morning tea service. They drank Mippy’s favorite—Draco’s too, but he wouldn’t admit it—tea with milk and honey.
As the time for Draco to head to word neared, Narcissa grew quiet. He could tell something was about to happen, but he couldn’t tell what. Draco knew his mother well enough to know she was readying herself to do something—something big.
“I have a gift for you,” Narcissa smiled at Draco.
Her son looked at her intently. Confused, not expecting a gift, he waited for her to continue.
Narcissa Malfoy looked down at her hand and gave a soft smile. Slowly, she removed the four-carat diamond ring sitting on her ring finger. His mother gestured for Draco to outstretch his head and open his palm to her.
The diamond ring settled into Draco’s palm. Narcissa closed Draco’s fingers around the ring and rested her smaller hand on his closed fist. Their emotional moment lasted a few minutes, Narcissa and Draco looking into one another's eyes, a thousand words exchanged. A blessing. It was a blessing. Trust.
Draco broke through their silence, “Are you sure?”
Narcissa nodded, “Yes, my dragon. I want you to have it—her to have it.”
Tears welled in his eyes as he jumped up to embrace Narcissa.
“I love you, mum. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Settling into the embrace, Narcissa replied, “I’ll always be here.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, my dragon. I’m not going anywhere—not anytime soon.”
~*~
The workday went by pleasantly unbusy. Draco spent most of his day going over paperwork in his office and spent his lunch break with Theo and Blaise. His best mates took him to La Petite Grue en Papier for a celebratory lunch. Both friends couldn’t stop smirking at him throughout the lunch; he couldn’t figure out why but gave up and assumed they were up to their regular antics.
What Draco looked forward to most was his dinner with Hermione, followed by an evening at one of Wizarding London’s hottest new clubs—I’m Fine. Weird name for a club, but I’m Fine created quite the rage amongst the Wizarding elite.
The clock ticked, Draco waited patiently for the time to pass. At half-past two, his floo roared. Not expecting visitors, Draco appeared visually confused. Draco’s thoughts ran rampant when he saw her enter his office.
Sweet Merlin
Hermione exited the floo wearing nothing but emerald-green lingerie. The scalloped eyelash lace bra drew Draco’s eyes directly to her breasts. The balconette style visually accentuated her breasts alongside a push-up bra that Draco would never figure out.
Tall black heels clattered against the dark wood flooring. She mesmerized Draco. He barely noticed how close she was getting; he was too busy drinking in her body.
Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The matching green-lace knickers sat high on her hips, making her legs appear longer. Her green garter, clearly a part of the set, held up sheer-black stockings. Draco thought he might faint from the sight of her—in scandalous lingerie, in his office, in the middle of the afternoon, on his birthday.
Shite. How am I this hard already? My cock is fucking aching. If she would just let me take her here—right on my desk. Would she? Could I?
Seconds that felt like eternities ended, and Hermione stood directly in front of Draco’s desk. He could’ve had her stand there, in front of him, for hours so that he could memorize every inch of her skin. Memorize how the green lace hugged her body and led his eyes to all her curves.
“Happy birthday, Draco,” a deep want apparent in Hermione’s tone.
Silently, Draco cast a quick silencing charm along with a locking charm. He did not want to be disturbed this afternoon. Fuck no.
“Granger, you look—”
His train of thought was abruptly cut off when he noticed Hermione shift sideways slightly, giving him a view of her perky arse. Nothing but thin lace at the bottom of her tailbone covered her. Draco didn’t attempt to hold in his wanton moan when he noticed the green string between her arse cheeks.
Without hesitation, Draco threw everything off his desk with the sweep of his arm. At this moment, Draco wanted to be a cliche.
“I’m going to bend you over this desk, Granger.”
A small moan, barely audible, escaped Hermione’s lips. She promptly strode towards Draco, settling in between him and the desk, and leaned forward, so her chest laid against the cool marble.
Gods, I might come in my sodding trousers. Look at her. Fucking look at her. Her arse. If she only knew how many times I’ve thought of her like this—bent over for me. If she’d let me fuck her arse, even just for a minute. Shite. No, Draco. Stop. You can’t. She won’t. You can wank to fucking Hermione fucking Granger in the arse tomorrow.
His hands graced every inch of her body. Draco didn’t want to stop touching her. An intense groan escaped his lips when he slightly pulled apart her arse cheeks. The tiny green string caused Draco’s violently hard cock to twitch.
Do not come in your sodding trousers, Draco. Get it together.
Not sure what came over him, Draco lifted his hand, and he spanked Hermione. His hand print left a visible red mark on her arse; the sight alone gave Draco weeks of images of her to wank to. What affected him the most—the loud and wanton moan Hermione emitted.
She liked it. Did she? Did she like it? Oh, fuck, I want to touch my cock so badly. Do it, Draco. Fucking do it.
He did. His hand left another imprint on her arse, and an even louder moan followed by a drawn-out “ Fuck,” came from her throat.
Unable to hold back any longer, he felt like a schoolboy seeing a girl naked for the first time; Draco lightly tugged on his balls. Only briefly satiated, Draco dropped to her knees and pried Hermione’s legs wide open.
His tongue dove in, licking and lapping at her cunt over the lace. His tongue moved in figure eights, teasing her—never letting her pleasure build in one area alone. While his expert tongue lapped her, Draco’s index and middle finger gently rubbed at Hermione’s outer lips.
Sweet, dirty curses flew from Hermione like the only words she knew were, “Fuck, Draco, gods,” and, “Oh yeah, fuck.” His tongue settled on her clit and worked vigorously, knowing exactly how much pressure she needed.
Never had anything that t—tasted so good. Only meal I’d ever need. Rest of my life. Only need Grangers cunt.
Honestly, he couldn’t help himself. As Hermione began to shake, climax nearing, Draco lightly stroked his cock through his trousers. He moaned into her cunt like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, that all his pleasure came from her allowing him to taste her—it wasn’t far from the truth.
The words that drove Draco wild shocked him. Five simple words strung together to form a sinful sentence, “You’re doing so well, Draco.”
The vibrations from Draco’s moans from the praise given to him sent Hermione over the edge. She came, hard. “Oh fuck. Draco. Draco. Oh, Draco .”
Draco, let go of your cock. Merlin, you’re going to come in your trousers. Oh, but she tasted so good. Arse looks so good with my face between it.
Afraid of getting too close, Draco removed his hand and placed both on the inside of her thighs. The massaging and manipulating of her inner thighs, right at the apex, extended her orgasm. Hermione came for what Draco swore was at least an entire minute. He returned every last moan she emitted right into her, vibrating her clit and giving her even more pleasure.
When she came down from her high, Draco rose and draped his body over hers. His slender fingers moved her curls from her neck so he could lightly place kisses from her shoulders to the base of her jawline just below her ear.
Hermione’s breasts left the cool marble as Draco guided her, so her back came flush with his chest. Taking an ounce of control, Hermione turned around and sat on Draco’s desk—facing him and his desperate cock.
So grateful he wore a tie that day, Hermione grabbed it and dragged his face towards her. After lapping her tongue behind his ear a few times, Hermione seductively whispered.
“Today is June 6, 2006. That’s 06/06/06.”
“Mhmm,” Draco's voice distracted by the sight of her heaving chest.
“All good things come in threes.”
“Mhmm,” still enamored at the sight of her.
“I wanted to give you your present in three’s this year. Can you guess what I have three of, Draco?”
He shook his head no, unable to think while she sat in front of him wearing his favorite color—in lace.
What Hermione said next snapped Draco out of his fantasy, thinking about shoving his cock between her breasts—coming all over them.
“I have one of these.” Hermione pointed to her mouth. “And one of these.” She graced her fingers over her overly sensitive clit. “Can you guess the third, Draco?”
He gulped.
It couldn’t be? Could it? Was she? Could I? Merlin, I want to so badly. Fuck. Would she let me fill her completely? Could I take her bent over this desk? Could I stare at her pretty arse hole while I shove my cock inside of her? Sweet Merlin. I wonder if she’d let me trace over it, just a little. I could show her how good I can make her feel. Oh, Granger. Oh, please.
Completely stunned, his throat unable to form words, he simply nodded.
“That’s right, Draco. Today—I want you to fill all of me. Every part of me. Could you do that for me, Draco? Could you make me come just from fucking my arse?”
Draco groaned at her last words, cutting her off. His cock grew stiffer; he wasn’t sure how that was possible.
“Would you fill my arse? Fuck me until all of your come dripped out of my arse into my cunt? Would you let me take it and fuck myself with it? Rubbing your come all over my clit and into myself? Do you think you could let me?”
I have no clue who this girl—what the fuck did she do with Hermione? I can’t believe I have soiled my trousers yet. I deserve an award for holding off this long. Does she mean what she’s saying? Oh fuck, I hope she does. I’d empty my sodding vault if I got to see her fucking herself with my come.
His dominant side awakened; Draco pushed Hermione, so she laid on his desk with her head hanging over the edge slightly. He slightly bent down, ripped her knickers off with his teeth, and made sure to slide them into his desk drawer carefully.
The sound of metal clanked when Draco tore open his belt, unzipped his trousers, and freed his throbbing cock. The tip of his cock lightly brushed against Hermione’s swollen clit; both gasped at the insane pleasure of such a simple action.
When he finally pushed inside, he threw his head back in sweet and utter bliss. The pace he set allowed him to feel every time his cock dragged against her walls, every time she’d clench around his cock while he silently begged her to relax; otherwise, he’d come in an instant.
Hermione Granger is half-naked, lying on my desk, and I am fucking her. I am driving my cock into lingerie wearing Hermione fucking Granger on my sodding work desk on my fucking birthday. Fuck. There’s no way this day can get any better. Please, Merlin, when I die, let me be inside her. I’d die a happy man.
The floo roared to life again at precisely three o’clock sharp. Too enraptured with the sensation of Hermione around him and the breathy noises she made, he didn’t notice the green fire at first. The sound of a dress shoe against his hardwood flooring caught his attention immediately.
Adrian Pucey stood in front of him.
One of his childhood mates walked in on him fucking Hermione Granger on his desk in the middle of the sodding day while she wore lingerie. Shite.
“I—” Draco tried to pull out of Hermione and zip his trousers.
Noticing Draco’s movements, Hermione wrapped her legs around him, locking her heels to trap him inside of her.
Confused and flustered, Draco spoke, “Hermione—”
“I know. I know Adrian’s here,” she spoke, furthering the embarrassed blush on his cheeks.
“I invited him, Draco. To join us.”
Notes:
A/N:
Thank you to Jaxx for the AMAZING art for this chapter!
Sorry, it's taken so long for an update. I lost a schoolmate and friend 2 weeks ago and took some time for myself to grieve.
I know Draco's birthday is actually June 5th, but I changed it to June 6th for this fic. It's important it's on the 6th; I'm sure you saw why.
I normally pride myself on making everything historically accurate, but three songs in this chapter were released after 2006. I couldn't find any songs that fit the way I wanted them to that were released in the right timeframe. I hope you all can look past this.
Mippy is borrowed, with permission, from the lovely Julie, aka Lovesbitca8.
I hope everyone found all the Easter eggs hidden throughout.
Links to songs/albums referenced:
Empty: https://open.spotify.com/track/7fKo7tUvCOhoKmtUZyMGdX?si=00aa625ea54d452f
Red House: https://open.spotify.com/track/3PwKz7ML8VnNAp15OzIMWG?si=5776b725f8da4af5
Cold: https://open.spotify.com/track/1LqFdwLKqa8Ep6q9LEUCih?si=6dc732d6da564b71
I Can't Quit You Baby: https://open.spotify.com/track/62QInSlXQI11BR9ycVWjd6?si=4d4442f18bea41a7
Bachelorette: https://open.spotify.com/track/30j9ij28SJum1lp740MsHS?si=f6a043cf91c04107
Chanel Perfume: https://open.spotify.com/track/7mzG5rxRNv9g4vcJFilsmu?si=20ecfcd30ff54554
Coração Leviano:https://open.spotify.com/track/3Pz0EPURuJlpuUCRzgb7hQ?si=011b31f939a14673
Magalenha:https://open.spotify.com/track/60ji00aSJqv0njEk9RI2LD?si=7f5ec5526bd14b46
Bailamos: https://open.spotify.com/track/666ILpcaeh5ZoToDpotVWN?si=8e9b0b79f5504327
Casi un Bolero: https://open.spotify.com/track/2ctpCcS1RSZonF594lq1CQ?si=9ac31b71aeb847fc
La Bomba: https://open.spotify.com/track/2IAtnd4UG52HQP9Rwart5h?si=26e7f7328ba44d7c
Oye Como Va: https://open.spotify.com/track/5u6y4u5EgDv0peILf60H5t?si=9a4740f3af8e4129
Chapter Text
If anyone had asked Draco what he thought might occur if his mate walked out of the floo to see him fucking Hermione Granger on his desk, the answer would not have been— my cock would harden. Yet, here Draco stood in front of Adrian and inside Hermione while his cock somehow got harder.
Moments that felt like milliseconds passed, and Draco finally said something, “You what?”
Huffing, Hermione replied, “I said that I invited Adrian to join us, Draco.”
The sound of his given name on her lips never failed to make Draco groan internally. Something about only hearing Draco during sex made his name feel like an aphrodisiac.
Adrian moved closer, closer than Draco would’ve wanted at that moment, and spoke, “So, mate, am I joining?”
How the fuck did my birthday go from banana pancakes to having Adrian sodding Pucey ask me if he was going to fuck my girlfriend while I’m fucking inside of her? Fuck. What the fuck, Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Granger looks like she wants this; wants me to want this. Gods, if she doesn’t look fucking gorgeous staring at me like this.
“I—” Draco couldn’t form a proper sentence.
Do I want fucking Pucey inside of her? Does she fucking want Pucey inside of her? Shite. Why does she want to fuck Pucey of all men in England? If she doesn’t want to fuck me, why couldn’t it have been anyone but Pucey? I take that back. At least Blaise isn’t standing in front of me right now.
“Uh—I—”
Am I not good enough? Is just fucking me not good enough for her? Fuck. Fuck, Fuck. Why am I never sodding good enough? Shite. What do I do? What do I do? Oh, Merlin, she’s looking at me again. Breathe. Breathe. Merlin, Draco—fucking breathe.
Draco inhaled slowly, counted to four, and exhaled slowly. Hermione had bruised his ego—badly. She’d be disappointed if he said no; that much was obvious.
First glancing down at Hermione, then up at Adrian, and then back down to Hermione, Draco made his decision. He’d do it—and fuck if he wouldn’t show her how good she has it with him. He’d outlast Adrian. Fuck her better than Adrian. He’d have her quivering from his sweet praises in no time. Draco planned to ruin her for any other man.
Deeds, not words. To signal his decision, Draco roughly thrust into Hermione. Seeing the whites of her eyes as they rolled back into her head added a notch back to his ego. The cool marble shook from the intensity of Draco’s violent thrusts. Draco relished in the way Hermione’s head fell backward and off the desk. A violent smirk plastered his face. Tomorrow, she’d have some sort of burn from the friction of her body against his desk. Draco didn’t care. He’d mark her in any way possible.
Mine. Fucking mine.
For the first time, Draco removed his intense gaze from Hermione to glance at Adrian. Further away than he remembered, Adrian watched them while he palmed his erection through his trousers. Adrian’s eyes stayed transfixed on Hermione’s mouth. He watched her face contort with immense pleasure. Adrian slightly groaned at the sight and sound of every gasp or moan that escaped from her lips.
The sound of a buckle coming undone signaled Adrian was ready to join them. Adrian stroked himself a few times before inching closer to Hermione’s gasping mouth. Once he reached Hermione, Adrian ran his fingers along her lips. Draco adjusted his gaze and slightly rolled his eyes upward to see Adrian positioning his cock by Hermione’s mouth.
I’m bigger than him. Ha. I’m so much fucking bigger than him.
Draco didn’t let his rhythm falter. He couldn’t. He needed to show her how much better he could fuck her than Adrian sodding Pucey. He knew that she knew he could fuck her better. Draco intended to show her how much better—had to show her. He needed her to want him—the way he wanted her—in every way.
It’d be a lie if Draco said seeing Hermione like this didn’t turn him on. He completely ignored Adrian’s presence; his eyes never strayed from Hermione. Intending to increase her pleasure tenfold, Draco rubbed circles on her clit—lightly. His light touch drove Hermione mad. His pressure gave Hermione enough sensation for a rush of pleasure to course through her spine but not enough to take her over the edge. When she came, Draco wanted the tension to explode. So, he inched her closer and closer but never allowed her to come close to climax.
With every moan around Adrian’s cock, Adrian got closer. Draco could tell that Adrian’s stamina was no match for his. The contortions of Adrian’s face signaled his attempt at holding back his climax. He clearly wanted to outlast Draco. Ha.
He’s doing his best. He’s really trying. Sodding idiot. Doesn’t he know I could fuck circles around him? I’ll give it to him—Adrian really is trying his best. Sucks his best doesn’t compete with me on an off day. Once he comes, I know Granger will realize he’d never satisfy her if the roles reversed. He can’t make her come like I can. Wait. What the fuck is he—
While Draco removed his hand Hermione’s clit to grab onto her hips and drive into her further, Adrian’s hand trailed down her body. Before Draco realized what Adrian intended to do, his fingers found her clit and the wetness Draco gave her. Hermione gasped and bucked her hips at the intense pressure placed on her aching clit.
“Ne t'avise pas de venir, Hermione,” Draco thrust into her with greater intensity.
Adrian didn’t fail to notice the intensity of her moan at Draco’s words. Draco noticed Adrian noticing how his words affected the witch between them.
Draco smirked and continued, “Ne pense même pas à venir avec ce putain de connard qui te touche.”
Hermione’s moans filled the room. Adrian’s hips faltered slightly; his rhythm fell out of sync. Within seconds of hearing Hermione begin to moan—he came with a shout.
As Adrian came, Hermione continued shuttering with pleasure from her boyfriend’s words, “Draco,” she moaned with the aftermath of his seductive French.
Ha. I need a pensive. Fuck. Why don’t I keep a pensive in my office? Sodding git came while Granger moaned MY name. Not his name—mine. Oh, fuck—she looks hot with come on her lips. Oh, fuck, She fucking licked her lips. Merlin, please don’t let me come right now. Please let me last longer than Pucey.
“Bonne fille,” Draco leaned to whisper in his witch’s ear.
“Draco. Draco. Draco, please. I need to know,” Hermione pleaded.
Draco’s hips snapped furiously, driving Hermione’s small frame to bounce off the marble. She hadn’t moaned Adrian’s name—not once.
“I said—good girl—Granger.”
“Oh, gods,” her orgasm grew closer.
“Je veux que tu sois une bonne fille et que tu viennes partout sur ma bite. Tu peux faire ça pour moi, ma puce?”
Draco continued his intense speed, “I said—I want you to be a good girl and come all over my cock. Can you do that for me, pet?"
Hermione shuttered beneath him, Adrian Pucey wholly forgotten, “Yes. Yes. Oh, Draco. Yes!”
Merely from the excruciating pace Draco set—Hermione came. Within seconds of Hermione writhing and arching her spine beneath him, Draco’s pace faltered slightly. He came with an intensity he didn’t know existed. White flashed behind his eyes. Did he just enter Heaven?
Draco looked down at the witch beneath him with awe.
“Happy birthday, Malfoy,” Hermione looked at him with immense adoration.
Adrian reentered their minds. He chuckled awkwardly, “Uh—happy birthday, mate.”
The awkwardness increasing, Adrian bolted towards the floo.
“Hey, mate,” Draco called after Adrian.
“Yeah?”
“See you tonight? At I’m Fine?”
Adrian smiled, clearly glad Draco didn’t want their cordial friendship to become awkward, “Absolutely.”
Still lying on the table, Hermione craned her neck towards Adrian, “Are you bringing Steph tonight?”
Before he could reply, Draco interjected, “Wait—Steph as in—”
“Yes, Malfoy. Steph, as in Blaise’s Steph,” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Why is Pucey inviting Steph to my birthday celebration?”
Adrian replied sheepishly, “Steph’s my girlfriend.”
“Your—your,” Draco stuttered, and before he could finish his train of thought, the floo roared, and Adrian exited his office.
The look Draco gave Hermione made her curl into herself. She knew Steph’s less than honorable way of ending things with Blaise was still a sore spot, but she’d grown to like the girl. Draco’s stern gaze demanded answers—now.
After a deep inhale, Hermione spoke. She explained to Draco that Steph and Adrian met while she worked a party he attended.
Under his breath, Draco muttered, “Typical,” and rolled his eyes.
Giving him a quick glare, Hermione continued. After the party, they well—shagged—and hit it off. They’d been seeing one another for a little over a month now. Hermione tried to explain to Draco that Blaise and Ginny were happy, more than happy, and he wouldn’t be upset at his ex-flame dating a former classmate or showing up to the club that evening. Draco’s Slytherin loyalty stayed strong, vehemently defending Blaise’s soon-to-be wounded ego.
He had enough, “Granger!”
The volume that Draco called her name started her.
He continued, “If Blaise shows up tonight and has a bloody heart attack seeing Steph and Pucey together—I’m blaming you.”
Hermione chuckled and began to clean herself up. Not wanting to disturb Draco’s entire afternoon on a workday, Hermione walked towards the floo. Draco lunged and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him.
“Granger, don’t you still owe me two-thirds of my gift?”
Hermione’s knees went weak at the seductive smirk plastered on Draco’s face, “You have no idea what’s coming, Malfoy.”
“No idea?”
“Just be glad that your ex-girlfriend’s personality is rubbing off on me.”
Hermione stepped into the floo; flames surrounded her as she called out for her flat. Draco stood in front of the floo for five minutes in shock. Pure and utter shock.
Pansy and I shagged on top of the sodding Eiffel Tower. What the fuck could she have possibly done with Granger? Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m going to wring Pansy’s neck for this.
~*~
The moon waxed; Draco couldn’t help but think about the potential improvements his life faced. Refinement—nothing to come could be considered a small change, but Draco couldn’t think of another word. He had everything he could’ve ever wanted—almost everything.
The comfort the bay window gave Draco helped him calm his breathing. London’s lights shined bright, slightly distracting him from the moon. It’s just what he needed. The moon’s light blinded him; he couldn’t see or think when it rose every night. The moon encompassed him—suffocated him. Although Draco’s throat constricted, begging him for air—he’d never breathed better in his life.
Variabilis remained one of the only places Draco found solace. Draco couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat in his bay window and allowed himself to simply be. The seasons changed as fast as his life had. Six months ago, he had a routine—Tuesdays with Theo and Blaise, Wednesdays waving hello to Hermione and reading in his window, and Saturday dinner with his mum and best mates. Now, Hermione turned Draco’s life upside down in the best way possible, and it terrified him. His growing pains hurt for the first time in years; he didn’t fare well with change.
A few months. Draco could remain in the blissful bubble he’d built himself for a few months. His racing heart got the better of him. Is this what Blaise feels like all the time? fuck , and he tucked his head between his knees to drown out the feeling of impending doom.
“There you are! I knew I could find you here.” Hermione hurried towards her boyfriend.
Draco physically winced; it didn’t go unnoticed.
Worried, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” He avoided her gaze.
I’ve always thought that a feeling that changes
never existed in the first place.
“Granger?”
“Yes, Malfoy?”
Without meeting her gaze, he poured his heart out, “I don’t think I ever believed in blood supremacy. Not truly.”
Unsure how to broach this topic, Hermione scooted next to Draco and rested her head on his shoulder. She met his gaze in their reflections from the window.
“Only you can know for sure. But, for what it’s worth—I believe that to be true.”
The sparkle in his eyes returned. “You do?”
“I do, Malfoy. You didn’t want any of the shite thrown at you during the war. You did what you had to do to survive.”
“What about before the war? When I acted like a total git?” Draco’s head returned to the comfortable spot between his knees. “Especially to you, Granger.”
To sell your soul is the easiest thing in the world.
That's what everybody does every hour of his life.
If I asked you to keep your soul -
would you understand why that's much harder?
“You were thirteen, for Merlin’s sake. Even Ron was a complete and utter arse to me during the first few years at Hogwarts.” She rubbed circles on his back. “We were children. You can’t let the way you acted as a child dictate your perception of yourself.”
“But—”
“No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to pity yourself. Look at me. Look at me, Malfoy.”
Draco’s head slowly removed itself from the comfort and safety of his knees to face Hermione.
Hermione huffed, “Do you know what happened to Goyle after the war? That isn’t rhetorical.”
Draco nodded.
“He let Voldemort get to him. He let his bigoted beliefs guide his life. He let the bullshit doctrine that Tom spat at you lot manifest. Goyle wound up in Azkaban because he let Voldemort control him.”
“I really don’t see what this has got to do with me.”
“Oh hush, Malfoy. I’m getting there.”
Draco immediately closed his mouth and kept his undivided attention on his witch.
“Voldemort lived in your house for months. He invaded your mind and sent you on suicide missions. He threatened you and your parents. You didn’t end up like Goyle. Voldemort preyed on you and tried to suck all the light out of your life so you’d follow him blindly. You didn’t sell your soul, Malfoy. You threw your wand at Harry during the final battle, and we won. Instead of taking the easy way out, you turned your life around and didn’t let your soul die with Voldemort. Do you understand why that’s so much harder than what Goyle did?”
Does she—does she...believe in me? Someone believes in me—thinks at least once in my life I made the right choice. Did The Boy With No Choice make the right one in the end? I did—didn’t I? Maybe now I can be The Boy Who Made The Right Choice.
Sparkle in his eyes, Draco grabbed the nape of Hermione’s neck and pulled her towards him for a bone-crushing kiss.
I love you.
His hands ran through her tresses, pulling softly to expose her neck.
Let me keep you.
He couldn’t stop kissing her—neither of them came up for air but breathed better than they had in years.
Please, don’t ever leave me.
Hermione delicately placed her hand on his muscular chest.
I love you.
The lovers exchanged thousands of words between kisses—Hermione’s of acceptance; Draco’s of insecurity; Both of love.
Let me marry you.
They pulled away with their foreheads resting on one another while they caught their breath.
Marry me. Be mine. Be mine—forever.
Hermione smiled against him. Months together felt like both seconds yet also a whole lifetime. He could stay with her in this window until he took his dying breath, and he’d be ultimately, utterly, and stupidly happy.
I’ll never stop loving you.
“Is the birthday boy ready to attend his party?”
Draco nodded and followed Hermione down the winding staircase to bid the Asier's goodbye. The elderly couple handed him a small bag with balloons for his birthday. When Draco turned around to thank them one last time, he noticed a specific glint in their eyes. They looked at them the same way Narcissa did.
To say “I love you”
one must know first
how to say the “I.”
“I think you came into my life at the perfect time, Granger.”
“How come?”
Nearing The Blur, Draco simply kissed Hermione’s forehead and smiled. He looked at her while they rode the elevator up to the penthouse. His eyes told her everything she needed to know—he’d tell her on his own time—the preferred hour.
~*~
Narcissa waited for her son and his friends at the first section of I’m Fine—the self-titled lounge portion of the club. She planned to spend an hour or so with the crew before heading home while they moved on through the various sections of the new nighttime establishment.
I’m Fine’s lounge featured an expansive bar and a plethora of lounge seating. Instead of the traditional red coloring, this upscale lounge surrounded itself with purples and blues. Giant circular chandeliers floated above the guests. Color only surrounding the outline of the light fixtures created an open feel while reinforcing the blue and purple that decorated the space. Neon light reflecting off the various trees stationed in between tables gave way to more of a restaurant feel, making customers forget the debauchery occurring within the depths of the establishment.
Accepting nothing but the best, the Malfoy matriarch arranged for her son’s event to occur in the VIP section of every club level. When all the kids arrived, chilled glasses with ice and a private bartender awaited them.
Hermione entered the space first, wearing a strapless bodycon black patent leather dress that ended before reaching her mid-thigh, a long black overcoat, and black open-toe high heels with a simple ankle strap.
Narcissa gasped upon seeing Hermione. When her son’s girlfriend approached, she engulfed her in the most un-pureblood-like hug. She didn’t refrain from her affections.
“It’s lovely to see you, Narcissa.”
“You as well, my dear. You look lovely.”
Hermione blushed, “Thank you.”
Narcissa leaned in to whisper into her ear, “I wouldn’t be surprised or unhappy if I had a grandchild after tonight.”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed, and before she could respond to Narcissa, Pansy arrived. As fabulous and naturally seductive as always, Pansy wore a hot pink two-piece set. The tight skirt’s asymmetrical shape accentuated her natural curves. A thin strap held the skirt up on one hip while the other side cut across her body like a one-shoulder top. Another thin strap hung around her neck to hold up the small bandeau-style top covering her smaller bust. She looked effortlessly cool. After bidding her hello to her ex-boyfriend’s mother, Pansy nearly ran to Hermione to gush over her outfit.
The two friends gushed over one another, clearly missing one another due to their increasingly busy schedules.
“Hermione, Thank fuck I entered your life—look at you,” Pansy gestured to the form-fitting outfit, “Finally learning how to dress. I’m so proud.”
“You bought me this,” Hermione rolled her eyes at her best friend.
“Oh, I did? Hmmm...I can’t seem to remember why,” Pansy smirked viciously.
Having eavesdropped on the girls’ conversation, Narcissa added to Pansy’s deviousness, “It wouldn’t have anything to do with Draco’s preference for leather? Would it?”
Pansy burst into laughter at Narcissa’s crude comment along with the way all the color drained from Hermione’s face, clearly not used to the pureblood queen’s less than appropriate commentary.
Still laughing, Pansy questioned Narcissa, “Are you seriously still on about the grandchild, Cissa?”
A slight eye twitch suggested Hermione’s deep discomfort. Cissa? No one called Narcissa—Cissa. Did they?
“Oh, Hermione, dear. Pansy tells me everything, borders on telling me too much at times. I started pestering her about a grandchild in hmm, what year was it?”
“Fourth year,” Pansy chuckled, “You’ve been on my case about it since fourth year.”
“Ah! Yes. Fourth-year. I was sure after the Yule Ball there’d at least be a scare,” Narcissa huffed.
“Cissa, you know he was safer than that. He always used the contraception charm with me, unlike with Miss Hermione over here,” Pansy pointed at Hermione, the blush on her cheeks growing until the cool-toned lighting.
“Pansy,” Hermione desperately tried to get her to shut her mouth.
“I don’t think they’ve used the charm once. Your son’s been playing Russain roulette with Hermione,” Pansy turned to address Narcissa, whose lips were already turned upward in a smirk.
Before Hermione could protest the topic of conversation, Blaise and Ginny walked up to the table, “For his sake, I hope his gun has some bullets left after the way you two fucked like rabbits at Hogwarts, Pans,” Blaise retorted.
Only having heard parts of Blaise’s comment, Draco approached the table with Bronson and Theo in tow, “My gun?”
Sighing, Blaise patted his friend on the back, “Your cock, mate.”
Confused but refusing to continue that line of conversation, Draco shook his head and laughed before greeting everyone already at the table. Once he made his rounds, he looked at his mother, “Mum, what on Earth are you wearing?”
The ever so stylish Narcissa Malfoy wore a silver sparkle-covered blazer with a single button near her navel. The intense v-neck allowed the slight dip of her breasts to peer through the top. Surprisingly to everyone, the matriarch wore mid-wash Muggle denim jeans with the expensive blazer. Her simple heels allowed the top to draw everyone’s attention. Bringing out her deep eyes, Narcissa wore black smokey eyeshadow that perfectly complemented the darker silver resting on her slender frame. Unlike her everyday style, Narcissa left all her hair down. She opted for a blowout, adding volume and dimension to her hair without drawing all the attention to the white-blonde streaks.
“Clothes, Draco. I’m wearing clothes,” Narcissa barked.
Embarrassed at his mother’s more sensual choice of clothing, Draco gestured at her top and grew aggravated, “Was this really necessary?
Blaise chimed in, “Well, I for one think she looks bloody fantastic.”
“Oh, of course, you do,” Draco snapped.
Trying to diffuse the growing tension, Theo spoke up, “Oh look, everyone! It’s Steph, Blaise’s ex-girlfriend with our old Quidditch teammate.”
Everyone chuckled at the absurdity of the events. Appearing rightfully nervous, Steph wore a nude-colored dress with a wide v-neck. The thin straps adorned with crystals looked elegant and matched with the trim that ended at her upper thigh.
Allowed to behave like an asshole, Blaise spat, “Could you have tried to look more like an utter tosser? What in Merlin’s beard are you even wearing?”
The former Slytherin chaser’s black and white pin-striped shirt only had the bottom few buttons closed. In contrast, the undone buttons utterly exposed his chest aside from the plethora of silver jewelry adorning his neck. He kept his hair messy and his shirt tucked into simple black trousers.
“I think he looks quite nice,” Steph quietly added.
“Of course you do—bloody bitch,” the aggression in Blaise’s tone rose.
Pansy rolled her eyes, “For fucks sake. None of us are even drinking yet. Can we save the spats for when we’re drunk so everyone can come up with more interesting insults?”
Pansy’s insistence that they insult each other more creatively diffused the tension and loosened everyone up with a round of low laughter. Their private bartender brought five bottles of firewhiskey to their VIP area and poured everyone their liquor. While the men stuck to firewhisky, the women ordered additional specialty cocktails.
Ginny ordered “The Claudia,” a bourbon cocktail adorned with fresh peaches. Narcissa ordered a tequila cocktail with honey and mint that the bar called their “Where Does The Good Go?” and Hermione followed with a mix unique tequila cocktail mixing a mojito and margarita titled, “V.” Furthering the gag that Steph’s from America, she ordered the rum cocktail “Tides Take California'' which they mixed with blue curacao to give it an ocean appearance. Lastly, Pansy followed in Steph’s footsteps and ordered the bar’s take on an AMF; they renamed the liquor-filled cocktail floated in Red Bull instead of the usual Coke, “Better In Blue.”
After an hour of socializing and drinking, the club informed them that the lounge area would close shortly—their tactic to usher guests through the various levels. Not wanting to join the young adults to the less tactful portion of the evening, Narcissa bid everyone her farewells and wished her son one last happy birthday before heading to an apparition point.
The second tier of I’m Fine featured an expansive nightclub—Bond. The interior of the second level outdid the last. Bird cages floated above the crowded dance floor. Witches danced within and without the cages, much like a Muggle Cirque du Soleil performance. Behind the bar, gold pillars held up large clear boxes. Throughout the night, girls danced inside the boxes and resembled an art installation. At the very front of the room, a DJ controlled the room’s energy with their upbeat club-style music and flashing laser lights moving through the crowd.
A purple and pink haze covered the dancers when Draco and his entourage entered Bond. All the music played at Bond was Muggle—the Wizarding world could unanimously agree that nobody made club music like Muggles. The Weird Sisters couldn’t get a crowd as rowdy as the Muggle Top 100. SOS by Rhianna had the crowd jumping and singing when everyone strode towards the packed dance floor.
Hermione watched Draco’s face pale at the sight of the haze, “I better not catch you dancing with some random witch tonight, Malfoy.”
Even more color drained from Draco’s cheeks while Hermione laughed and pulled Ginny, Pansy, and Steph towards her to dance together. Shots of firewhiskey floated over the dancers so guests wouldn’t have to leave the dancefloor to replenish their liquor. After four shots and a few song changes, they were thoroughly tipsy. The girls went crazy when the DJ played Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado.
Promiscuous girl, wherever you are
I'm all alone, and it's you that I want
Feeling the music, Hermione and Pansy danced on one another, holding their drinks in the air. Pansy guided Hermione’s hips to the beat of the chorus.
Promiscuous boy, you already know
That I'm all yours, what are you waiting for?
Theo shouted over the music, “Draco, your ex-girlfriend, and current girlfriend are fucking grinding on each other. This has got to be some Hogwarts fantasy of yours come true.”
“Oh, fuck off, mate.”
“You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t lose 50 galleons if I bet that you weren’t at least semi-hard right now.”
Draco’s over the music scream increased its volume, “Go make your fiancé hard, Theo.”
Promiscuous girl, you're teasin' me
You know what I want, and I got what you need
Ginny and Steph belted the popular lyrics while their drinks splashed out of the rim of the crystal glasses and coated the other in the sticky residue of alcohol. Neither girl seemed to mind that their beverages sprayed their friends.
Promiscuous boy, let's get to the point
'Cause we're on a roll, you ready?
Everyone continued to dance while the colorful lights moved around the room. Luckily for Hermione, the DJ didn’t use laser beams of white light—she got vertigo. Steph and Ginny danced together—giggling and smiling like they’d been best friends for years, while Blaise settled his grudge with Adrian’s choice of date. Theo and Bronson stayed in their own world—premarital bliss.
More drinks flowed as the night continued. The DJ played a plethora of energetic songs from Suga Suga by Baby Bash to Everytime We Touch by Cascada. The latter song had everyone jumping and singing along to the tune—nearly half of the alcohol in everyone’s cup was either on someone else or the floor by the time the song changed.
Tipsy by J-Kwon caused a commotion in the background while Blaise pulled Steph aside to speak with her. The rest watched the awkward interaction and decided to mind their own business and continue dancing.
“Uh—hi Blaise,” Steph drunkenly stammered.
“Hi, Steph,” he replied like an eleven-year-old trying to talk to their crush.
“So, you’re uh—alive.”
Blaise chuckled, “Still alive, Steph. Still alive.”
“What did you want to speak to me about?”
The volume of the club increased, so Blaise attempted to shout over the music, “I wanted to let you know that I forgive you.”
Unable to hear over the shouting of, now, e'rybody in this bitch gettin' tipsy, Steph attempted to shout back, “You what?”
“FORGIVE YOU,” he attempted to get his message across.
“THANK YOU, BLAISE. I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY WITH GINNY,” her volume maxed out.
During a lull in the noise, while the DJ transitioned into the next song, Blaise replied, “I’m really happy. I hope everything works out between you and Pucey.”
Before Steph could open her mouth, Theo and Draco grabbed Blaise’s collar and yanked him towards the congregation of the group.
“It’s our song,” Draco drunkenly slurred.
Hollywood Undead sang before Blaise registered the song playing.
Everywhere I go, bitches always know
That Charlie Scene has got a weenie that he loves to show (bitch)
The Slytherins placed their arms around each other and formed a circle while they jumped to Everywhere I Go. Hermione, Bronson, and Ginny watched their partners behave like American college frat stars and laughed hysterically at the sight.
Wake up, grab beer, grab rear, shave beard
Put on some scene gear
Gotta get drunk 'fore my mom wakes up
Break-up with my girlfriend so I can bang sluts
I'm Undead, unfed
As the song progressed, the boys got rowdier. When they took turns belting their presumed favorite lyrics, the rest of the group doubled over in laughter at how excited they looked.
Draco nailed his favorite lyrics, “When I start drinking, my dick does all my thinking. Hoes want to be seen with me and I like their big, fake titties.”
Blaise and Theo cheered him on while his hands flailed in the air. Draco looked like an idiot and clearly couldn’t care less—he let loose.
“D cups with extra filling, take it out, let me lick it quickly. Calm down, it's just a hickey. I’ll blame it on this whiskey sipping,” Draco finished his section and passed the baton to Blaise.
“Gets me tipsy, drink fast and enjoy your buzz. Take back streets to avoid the fuzz I wanna take you home but your friends won't let ya. I got a 40 in my Ford Fiesta,” Blaise gave it his all before Theo took over to finish the chorus.
“Buy beer or pay the rent? My signing bonus was quickly spent. So I'll beat my meat like I'm a fucker butcher. And I'll punk the pussy like I'm Ashton Kutcher," Theo finished and caught his breath before his duet with Blaise.
Blaise, Theo, and Draco’s energy kept increasing. They knew this song like Ron knew the inside of his wooden box.
Theo and Blaise cleared their throats for their duet; Blaise started first, “Fuck a wristband, let's all do a keg stand."
“I'm like Cheech,” Theo pointed at Blaise to signal his line.
“without the Chong, ” Blaise smiled like a Cheshire cat.
“hitting up this beer bong,” the duo went back and forth.
“When the cops show up, they're gonna get the finger. ”
“And I don't give a fuck 'cause I'm the designated drinker. ”
Draco hyped up his best friends while they joined him to finish the rest of the song. The trio attracted lots of guests’ attention; it wasn’t hard to notice the men making fools out of themselves in the middle of the dance floor. No matter how ridiculous they looked, they had the time of their life.
In unison, the Slytherins shouted, “ We’ll keep them panties dropping.”
The boys finished their performance jumping and screaming the lyrics in perfect sync, "Everywhere I go, bitches always know. That Charlie Scene has got a weenie that he loves to show, bitch. Everywhere I go, bitches always know. That Charlie Scene has got a weenie that he loves to show.”
Out of breath, the boys returned to their respective partners already huddled in a circle. The crowd cheered when their rendition ended and returned their attention to the DJ. One of the dancers hung from one of the bars of her bird cage and arched her back, so the only part of her attached to the cage was her back touching the bar. She created a beautiful crescent shape as the cage swung. The lights caught her, illuminating her perfectly, causing the crowd to point and whisper at the stunning girl.
While the crowd paid attention to the dancer, Draco bent down, brushing his lips against Hermione’s ear, causing her to shutter.
“You’re the fucking sun, Granger,” Draco slurred his words.
“And you’re the moon, Malfoy,” Hermione smiled up at her boyfriend.
“Although we can never collide—I wouldn’t want to, Granger. You came into my life and aligned yourself perfectly; you found me and cast rays of light around all the darkness that surrounds me.”
A total eclipse of the heart.
“Malfoy, If I have to—I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that there isn’t any darkness inside you anymore,” Hermione’s firewhiskey thoughts poured from her slurred words.
I’ll spend the rest of my life. The rest of her life. Did she just say...the rest of her life? Did she? Fuck, I wish the music wasn’t so bloody loud in here. The rest of her life. The rest of her life.
Draco grabbed Hermione and held her in a bone-crushing embrace. Pansy and Ginny stumbled towards the couple to pull them towards the rest of the group. The Slytherin and Gryffindor made an odd friendship duo, but Draco smiled at seeing Hermione’s friends integrate with his so easily. All the girls went crazy when Dirrty by Christina Aguilera filled the room.
Gonna get rowdy
Gonna get a little unruly
Get it fired up in a hurry
Wanna get dirrty
It's about time that I came to start the party
Even the boys let loose during Christina’s pop anthem. As midnight drew near, the music shifted from club classics that caused pandemonium to traditional upbeat music that everyone knew.
Sweat dripping over my body (wanna get dirrty)
Wanna get a little naughty
Wanna get dirrty
It's about time for my arrival
Uh, what
Bond shuffled the guests to the third and final level of I’m Fine—Break Me Twice. On the way from Bond to Break Me Twice the hallway created an optical illusion with neon purple lights stationed in the shape of an elongated trapezoid. It appears the hallway continues forever; once guests reach the end, they walk through the wall at the end of the hallway and are outside on the football field length patio. The outdoor section had clear circular standing tables. The tables had neon pink, purple, orange, blue, and green swirls within the clear acrylic. Each colored table signified something different. Standing around a primary-colored table meant you were interested in talking to other guests and meeting new people. Out of the primary colors, blue showed you were interested in meeting a romantic partner. The secondary colors meant you were at Break Me Twice with friends or a significant other and didn’t want to socialize outside your designated group. Three-meter cylinders with water bubbling inside kept everyone outside warm; the owners charmed the water contraptions to be heat lamps.
On the way through the neon-lit passage, Hermione grabbed Draco by the arm and pulled him into the dark section between the lit trapezoids. No one noticed their disappearance as they drunkenly stumbled towards the exterior of I’m Fine. Before Draco could mutter a word, Hermione brought her index finger to her lips, indicating he needed to remain quiet.
Hermione cast the disillusionment charm on Draco and herself, opting to keep as much trill in their future actions as possible. An invisibility spell wouldn’t do. Hermione lightly shoved Draco against the wall as a perfect chameleon before beginning to lower to her knees.
Draco gulped.
Is she fucking serious? Oh, sweet Merlin. I’m going to kill Pansy for this. Oh, fuck, her mouth is so warm; oh fuck the things she can do with her tongue. Maybe I’ll have to thank Pansy instead of sending her six feet under. Don’t moan, Draco. Don’t fucking moan and ruin this.
Staring up at Draco, knowing she cast the spell, so they remained visible to one another, Hermione made direct eye contact, and she fit over half of his eleven inches in her mouth. Every ounce of strength couldn’t stop Draco from groaning at the sight. Luckily, no one passed by them to hear his wanton moan. Hermione gave him a look that screamed for him to shut his mouth, so they don’t get caught.
Draco couldn’t figure out when or how Hermione became so bold, but he savored every minute of it. One of the major reasons he loved Hermione was her fearless, daring, and valiant personality. Hermione transferring his favorite personality traits of hers into the bedroom made him harder than he’d ever been in his life.
Working him with vigor, Hermione slowly took more of his length as her throat opened up to accept him. Draco thanked her Muggle God for giving his girlfriend the sweet ability to pull intense pleasure from him simply using her tongue. Using her hand, Hermione stoked the base of Draco’s cock in tandem with the suction of her cheeks and the swirl of her tongue.
Don’t you dare come yet, Draco. You cannot fucking come yet. This feels so good; oh, fuck. If I look down, I’m going to come. I can’t look down at her.
Hermione softly moaned around Draco’s cock as she continued to pleasure him.
I shouldn’t have looked down. Fuck. Wish I could—fuck—wish I could hear her moan around me forever. Need to—need to fuck her face every day. Is she? Is she putting her hand underneath her dress? Sweet, Merlin. She better not fucking moan again because it is taking every last ounce of restraint not to fucking grab her head and fuck her sweet mouth.
Swirling her index finger around her clit, Hermione moaned when Draco’s cock hit the back of her throat.
A few guests heard the noise and looked side to side to see where it came from. Instead of stopping, Hermione picked up her pace both on him and herself. When the drunken pack of friends didn’t see anyone, they walked towards the patio, swaying left and right, unable to stand upright without the assistance of another.
Once the hallway cleared, Draco grabbed the back of Hermione’s head, fisting her curls, and pounded his cock into her mouth.
She’s still fucking touching herself. Good gods help me. I won’t be able to hold back much longer. I can’t. Feels—feels too good. Can’t stop. Can’t fucking stop.
Even though Draco had taken control of the pleasure he received from Hermione’s mouth, she continued to swirl her tongue over his tip and down to his base. She moaned softly with each thrust into her mouth, moved her fingers from her clit, and slowly inserted two inside herself. Draco lost it—the sight of his girlfriend pleasuring herself while tears brimmed in her eyes from taking all of his cock sent him into a frenzy.
His last few thrusts were hard and sloppier than usual, the firewhiskey keeping him off his normally perfect game. In the final moment before his ecstasy, Hermione made direct eye contact.
“Oh, fuck. Hermione,” Draco cursed.
Unable to hold back his frenzied moans, Draco approached his climax.
“Ahh! O.. Oh!... Aghh! AAAH!”
Coming back to Earth, he noticed Hermione swallowing his seed. The sight of her licking her lips erupted a low guttural moan from Draco even though he knew where he wished he finished.
Abruptly, Draco scooped Hermione’s small frame and rested her back against the wall with her legs over his shoulders. Standing at full height, Draco looked directly at Hermione’s glistening cunt and prayed she would let him taste her. It was his birthday, and the birthday boy hadn’t had dessert yet.
“Granger, would you let the birthday boy have his dessert?”
“Gods, Draco, please. Less talking,” Hermione replied breathily.
Draco pulled Hermione’s black lace knickers to the side and dragged his tongue over her slit without wasting time. Without a feather-light charm, Draco carefully balanced Hermione’s weight on his shoulders, so he could free one hand to increase his lover’s pleasure. He let two fingers slide into Hermione and curled them, causing her to shake slightly.
It only took a few minutes of Draco nipping, licking, and sucking at Hermione’s clit while he fucked her with his fingers for her to come. Trusting his hold on her, Draco reached up with his free hand to cover her mouth while her body spasmed. After the intense orgasm, Hermione slumped against the wall before Draco slowly guided her feet back to the ground.
Hermione looked up at Draco, “Wanna get out of here?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
So their friends didn’t think someone abducted them or passed out drunk in a ditch; the couple found them on the patio and bid their farewells. The girls protested, claiming they hadn’t sung Draco a happy birthday yet. The men simply smirked at Draco, knowing the fantastic birthday sex that probably awaited him at home. Little did they know, he’d return home for round three.
I never want my birthday to bloody end.
~*~
Within minutes, Draco and Hermione walked through the floo at The Blur and into the living room of Draco’s penthouse flat. Not wanting to waste any time, Hermione grabbed Draco’s arm and led him up the bookshelf-lined staircase. When Hermione started unbuttoning his shirt, Draco grabbed her wrist to stop her.
“Are you sure you want this, Granger? You can back out; it’s okay,” Draco reassured her.
Please don’t back out. Please don’t say no. Fuck, I want this so bad. Want you so bad.
Hermione continued to unbutton his shirt and stood on the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear.
“I want this,” Hermione said in a drawn-out whisper.
Suddenly desperate, Draco took over, unbuttoning his shirt and threw it off his shoulders. He chucked his shoes off so carelessly they could have broken a window. He hurriedly unzipped Hermione’s tight-fitting dress and helped her shimmy it down her body. Usually, he would’ve taken the time to relish the sight of her nude body before him. Tonight, he couldn’t wait. He couldn’t hold off any longer on the fantasy he’d had ever since he saw her bend over to grab a book from a lower bookshelf at Variabilis.
He ripped off her knickers, destroying them, knowing her angry protests were fake. She liked how rough he got on occasion. Lightly shoving Hermione, she fell back onto his plush bed and luxurious bamboo sheets.
“What about my—” Hermione gestured to her high heels before Draco cut her off.
“Leave them,” he commanded.
Crawling to hover over her, Draco pressed his lips to hers. He slid his tongue into her mouth, not bothering to ask permission. Once their tongues danced, they swallowed one another’s passionate moans. Draco let his hand drag along Hermione’s smooth skin; once he reached his intended destination, he found her positively soaked.
Draco Accio’d a small vibrator to press against Hermione’s clit once he flipped her over so her arse would be in the air for him.
Inquisitive as ever, Hermione looked confused, “Where’d you get that?”
Draco rolled his eyes, “Blaise and I went to a sex shop after work today. Got it there. We can have this conversation another time, Granger.”
Hermione huffed in annoyance, but all was forgotten when Draco grabbed her hips and flipped her onto her stomach. She squealed in delight. To ensure the experience was as pleasant as possible for her, Draco whispered a wandless lubrication charm. Draco slipped his hand underneath Hermione and pressed the slim vibrator against her clit. As soon as the vibration started, Hermione let out a needy moan.
Before they continued, Draco asked Hermione once more if this is what she wanted. She nodded desperately. With her arse slightly in the air, Draco spanked her to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
This is really happening. Merlin, help me. She has no idea how bloody fantastic she looks like this. If I come too quickly, I’m going to hex myself—I need to savor this.
Testing the waters, Draco lightly pressed his finger against her arsehole—she bucked her hips towards him.
If she bloody moans from this, I won’t last more than a minute. How did I get so lucky?
Beginning to ensure he adequately prepared her, Draco brushed his fingers in a circular motion against her. She whimpered.
I swear my cock can’t get any fucking harder. Is she going to like this? Enjoy this? Want this again? I want her to want this again. Please, let me do this again.
Praying it didn’t hurt her, Draco slid a finger to prepare her. When Hermione squeaked, Draco emitted a depraved groan.
I’m screwed.
Finally experiencing the fantasy that plagued his time alone in the shower, Draco spread Hermione’s cheeks; his cock hardened at the sight of her on full display. The moment he pushed inside of her, a satisfied gasp left Hermione’s lips. She clenched around his cock, drawing him in further.
“Fuck,” Draco cursed wantonly.
~*~
The Wednesday, June 21st that Draco once dreaded arrived. All week, Narcissa ran around the manor resembling a bridezilla because she wanted the Solstice Ball absolutely perfect. Event staff moved through the gardens all day to prepare for the event of the year. The annual Malfoy Summer Solstice Ball marked the beginning of summer in Wizarding England. For a mystical feel, Narcissa removed the infamous hedge maze and replaced it with beautiful oak trees.
Guests began filing through the man doors around six pm. Narcissa dismissed traditional pureblood customs and allowed guests to wander to the outdoor event unaccompanied. Every year, Narcissa made a statement by entering the party fashionably late, so all eyes landed on her.
The outdoor decor would switch to a more impressive setup once the sunset. While the sun waited to cast its golden hour, guests mingled in the gardens before taking their seats at the dinner tables. Narcissa created the table seating assignments similar to one at a wedding—singles tables, work colleagues table, people who should have RSVP’d no but didn’t. For the first time in event history, Draco, Theo, and Blaise wouldn’t sit at the singles table. The Slytherins and their dates shared a larger than typical circular table with Narcissa at the center of the garden; the guests' tables were scattered throughout the manor grounds, so the event felt more mystical and less populated.
Draco and Blaise stood near the door of Malfoy Manor waiting for their dates while Theo and Bronson stood behind them and spoke amongst themselves. To everyone’s shock, Draco wore a navy blue suit. His white button-up collared shirt looked crisp underneath the navy suit jacket. More daring with his fashion, Blaise wore a forest green suit with thin muted mustard stripes with a dress shirt matching the stripes. Draco looked down at his wristwatch, wondering where Hermione and Ginny were.
Like clockwork, the Slytherin’s girlfriends walked through the large front door. When Draco looked up to make eye contact, Hermione took his breath away. Hermione’s floral floor-length gown made her look like a bride. The pinks, greens, and muted purples danced up on the upper layer of her a-line dress, flowing into a sweetheart neckline. A green satin ribbon sat only on the back half of the bodice and tied into an elegant bow. Her hair laid perfectly on her shoulders in a blown-out waterfall wave with small pear-shaped diamond earrings dangling from her lobes. Draco cleared his throat, willing his brain to form words to greet her.
“You look beautiful, Granger,” Draco greeted her.
She looks beautiful. Not the I want to ravish you kind of beautiful; it’s the I want to worship your body and savor every inch of your skin kind of beautiful.
A rosy blush matching the flowers on her dress crept up Hermione’s chest and cheeks.
“Navy? Who are you, and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?”
The couple laughed until Draco reached out for Hermione’s hand and placed a gentle kiss atop it. Draco’s gentlemanly gesture only furthered the redness of her cheeks. Theo cleared his throat to signal that they should find their seats for dinner since the girls arrived late.
Ginny interlocked her arm in Blaise’s while they walked behind the other couples. Much to Blaise’s dismay, Ginny wore light green instead of Slytherin green. A structured corset sat underneath a layer of tulle with hand-embroidered flowers and leaves that matched the dress’s color. Theo looked back at Blaise and shot him a devilish smirk after eyeing how Ginny clutched his arm and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked.
Both fiancés wore custom designer suits. Theo wore a simple white dress shirt with a black tie. His slightly oversized black trousers and matching suit jacket gave him the effortlessly cool look he always strived for. To round off his look, Theo had his hair slicked back and sported black rectangular sunglasses. Bronson continued to remind hisfiancé that sunglasses weren’t necessary inside, but Theo insisted they were an essential accessory for his outfit of the evening. Bronson embraced la vie en rose for the summer solstice; he wore a salmon-colored suit with a light pink silk dress shirt tucked into the trousers. All the men, except Draco, opted to leave their suit jackets unbuttoned for the evening to keep the event more informal and less stuffy.
I don't wish to be the
symbol of anything.
I'm only myself.
On the way to the table, guests eyed Hermione with confusion. What was the Golden Girl doing at the Malfoy Summer Solstice Ball? Since Draco lived in Muggle London and the couple spent most of their time together in the Muggle world, their relationship wasn’t common knowledge amongst their fellow witches and wizards. After the war, Hermione became notoriously private. Not many people saw the war heroine out and about within Wizarding London; she kept to herself and worked at her spell shop. Nothing more and nothing less.
A ministry official approached Hermione before she could take her seat at her table. He reached out to shake her hand before greeting her verbally.
“It’s an honor to see you, Miss Granger. How lucky we are to have the Golden Girl amongst us tonight,” the ministry employee said.
“I’m Hermione. Just Hermione,” she replied to the nickname she hated.
Sensing her discomfort, Draco swept in to guide her to their table. Like the true gentleman he is, Draco pulled out Hermione’s chair to help her settle before taking the seat adjacent to her.
Draco leaned in to whisper in Hermione’s ear, “For what it’s worth, I think just Hermione is golden.”
“Draco, I don’t want to be—”
“A symbol of anything,” Draco cut her off. “I’m well aware, Granger. You’re still golden to me.”
How can she look at herself and see anything but pure gold? She embodies every positive trait associated with gold—compassion, generosity, optimism, confidence. Granger also fucking enlightens, inspires, uplifts, and influences every sodding person she comes into contact with. Her effect on others is golden. She is golden.
Idle chatter filled dinner while the sun slowly let the moon take over for the evening. Adrian chose to sit with Steph at Brita Swift’s table. Although Steph was Brita’s assistant, their friendship grew into something more. Brita looked stunning in her light blue a-line dress with flowers stitched into the bodice and tulle. Steph branched out from the tulle, embroidery, and floral that many guests wore to make a statement in a periwinkle gown. The crystals woven into the dress created intricate patterns from the bodice to the hem. Adrian frequently kept his hand placed low on her hip since the dress hugged her slender form. Dressed on the opposite side of the color wheel, Adrian wore a burnt orange suit jacket and trousers with a white dress shirt underneath. He followed in Blaise, Theo, and Bronson’s footsteps by leaving the suit jacket unbuttoned.
Hermione waved to Brita from across the garden before turning to engage with Bronson.
“How’s business been?”
“I couldn’t have imagined a more successful restaurant. How have you been, cupcake?”
She tried to hide her smile, “Really happy. I’ve been really happy.”
“I wouldn’t want anything less than bliss for you. Are you coming to Nott Manor this Sunday? For pancakes?”
“Making pancakes with Bronson? I wouldn’t miss it. I need to learn that sacred recipe of yours.”
“Cupcake in domestic bliss?” Bronson laughed. “Don’t worry; I’ll teach you while Theo and Draco play with their cocks and fly their brooms.”
“Theo’s rubbing off on you.”
“Don’t get me started on the Malfoy smirk you’ve emulated.”
She huffed and tried to protest, “I have not.”
“You may not be a Malfoy yet, but you smirk like one.”
“Not yet? Insinuating something, Bronson?”
“I might be. Mrs. Hermione Malfoy has got a nice ring to it,” he tried to copy her smirk.
Draco got wind of Bronson’s comment towards Hermione. When he looked over at his girlfriend, he saw her fidgeting in her seat. She looked like she wanted to apparate right out of Malfoy Manor. His heart rate sped up, and his hands began to shake. Draco couldn’t control the panic that ensued—couldn’t stop the sweat from lining his forehead and palms. He unbuttoned the top of his collared shirt and loosened his tie so he could breathe easier.
Mrs. Hermione Malfoy? Mrs. Hermione Malfoy. She doesn’t—she doesn’t want that. Fuck. She doesn’t want that. Do I even blame her for not wanting to be attached to a Death Eater for life? Ha. If she could hear me now, she’d rattle my ears off about how I’m not a Death Eater, I’m an ex-Death Eater, and that there’s a difference. Doesn’t feel like one. Fuck is it getting hotter? I need to get out of here before I have a full-on panic attack in front of her. Fuck. I thought she might want this. Want me. Of course, she doesn’t. Why would she ever truly want me? Forever.
Theo sensed something off about Draco. When the best mates made eye contact, Theo nodded his head towards the pergola, and Draco followed. Theo might be a right git sometimes, but Draco knew that he’d always help him, especially when it came to Hermione.
“We’ve only been dating for a few months. So, I have no clue what you’re getting at.”
“You may have only started dating a few months ago, but you can’t lie to me and say you haven’t been in love with Draco for much longer. Are you saying you’d say no?”
Before Hermione could reply, Narcissa walked through the garden commanding everyone’s attention with her elegance and grace. The Malfoy matriarch wore her hair in an updo along with a strapless dress to further accentuate her collarbones and show off her impressively large diamond earrings. Her gold modified a-line ball gown made her look regal.
Theo leaned over Bronson and Hermione to whisper shout at Draco, “I guess it’s true—men date women that remind them of their mothers.”
Draco’s face grew hot, “If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, Theo. I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Draco?” Theo smirked, knowing Draco couldn’t do a damn thing without ruining the party his mother spent hours planning.
Blaise overheard the commotion and decided to bud in, “Hermione and your mother book look bloody fantastic in gold. Although, Narcissa may need to remove that color from her wardrobe.’
Draco tried to calm his breathing. He couldn’t bear to think about Blaise fancying his mum, or worse—fucking her. Thank Merlin for Ginny Weasley. Cheech and Chong knew how to get under Draco’s skin and did so at the most inopportune times. Narcissa overheard.
“Theo, dear, while I’m glad you’ve retained information about Sigmund Freud, I think it’d be best to go kill some more of your brain cells with Blaise and forget that bit of information,” Narcissa tried to hide her laughter at the absurdity of his commentary.
When Theo put his hands up to protest, Narcissa raised her hand, signaling she intended to continue her lecture.
“How do you expect Draco and Hermione to make me a grandchild tonight if you’ve got him trying to ward off unwanted thoughts about me because of your fucking commentary.”
Narcissa never swore.
Theo, Draco, and Blaise’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of Narcissa Malfoy saying fuck. They stared at each other and then back to Narcissa, trying to recover from the shock of the pureblood princess’ foul language.
Ginny turned to Hermione and gave her a look that screamed; we need to debrief whatever the fuck just occurred. Hermione returned the look, and the friends excused themselves from the table.
Narcissa continued lamenting, “If either of you two ruins this for me,” she pointed at Theo and Blaise, “no Halloween Ball.”
The threat of canceling their favorite event of the year away shut Theo and Blaise up. Draco refused to remove his Weasley-colored face from his hands. He also needed to strangle and then hex whoever told his mother that he liked to finish inside of Hermione. If Hermione didn’t know about his breeding kink, his fucking mother shouldn’t know.
If any of this ruins my chance at ripping that dress of Granger tonight, I’m going to emasculate the idiots I seem to call my best mates.
Waiting for their girlfriends to return from their gossip trip to the restroom, Blaise and Draco chatted about their upcoming summer plans. Blaise intended to surprise Ginny with a trip to his family vineyards in Italy in late July and suggested that Draco bring Hermione along to spend a few days with them drinking exquisite wine in the Italian sun.
I could die for you.
But I couldn't, and
wouldn't, live for you.
The Gryffindors returned to the snake pit just as Narcissa started her annual speech. Before Hermione sat down, Draco grabbed her wrist and lightly brushed his thumb back and forth against the back of her hand. She looked down at him, waiting for him to say something.
“Granger?” Draco whispered after she sat down next to him.
“Yes, Malfoy?”
“What would you die for?”
“Nothing,” she replied with a curious gaze in her eyes.
“Nothing?” Draco’s face softened, his muscles relaxed, and his expression turned solemn.
“Nothing.”
Hermione grabbed Draco’s hand this time and gave it a squeeze explaining her reason.
“Dying is too easy. Do you really expect me to give up that easily?”
Draco laughed, “I guess not, Granger.”
“Reading too much, Ayn Rand?”
“I’ve re-read The Fountainhead twice already.”
Narcissa’s speech began but they didn’t notice—too consumed in the world they created between one another. A bubble not meant to break.
“Twice? Why?” Hermione questioned softly.
“It’s your favorite, Granger.”
You have been the one encounter
in my life that can never be repeated
Unable to form a coherent thought after his sentimental words, Hermione simply squeezed his hand and tried to pay attention to Narcissa. Her attempt didn’t last long.
“Malfoy?”
“Yes?”
“You have been the one encounter in my life that can never be repeated,” she whispered.
“I wouldn’t want to feel this way about anyone but you, Granger. There’s not a chance in hell I’ll ever find a heart like yours ever again.”
Notes:
Thank you to @tomridswhorecrux for being my favorite goldfish. Another big thanks to malf0y101 for all her amazing edits and helping me become a better writer.
I normally pride myself on making everything historically accurate, but Everywhere I Go by Hollywood Undead was released after 2006. I didn't feel that any other song would do the boys justice. I can't listen to the song without picturing Draco, Theo, and Blaise belting it. I hope you all can look past this.
I hope everyone found all the Easter eggs hidden throughout.
Instead of listing all the songs featured in chapters at the end of every chapter, I decided to make an AGIAMT playlist! Spotify is annoying, and my name won't show up if you search "actanonvebra7," but the link works.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/20x23MAd6CzLTZEpmbggfm?si=e13ec0faf4a84b1f
Chapter Text
Dinner continued casually as the sun began to set and the sky darkened. As guests chatted amongst themselves, the decor switched. Lights magically strung themselves on the trees hanging above the guests and lit up. The light display caused a gasp to ripple throughout the crowd. Fireflies buzzed around the party, never leaving the garden area that magic confined them to. The moving lights of the fireflies combined with the lights strung on the large oak trees created soft lighting, enough to see comfortably but not enough to read without straining one’s eyes—the ambiance bordered on romantic.
Once dinner concluded, guests scattered throughout the vast Malfoy Manor grounds to mingle and observe the other phenomena that awaited them. When Draco set out to look for Hermione, he found her huddled with Pansy and Ginny speaking quietly. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help himself. Something deep within told him that he shouldn’t leave his hiding spot just yet.
“Hermione, just tell him already,” Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione’s stubbornness.
“Gin, I can’t. I just—I can’t,” Hermione responded.
Pansy budded into the conversation, “Both of you are fucking stupid. Seriously stupid.”
Hermione and Ginny spun to face Pansy, “We’re what?”
“Stupid. Ginny thinks you should tell him, and you don’t want to tell him. Neither of those is the answer. C’mon, I know you weren’t a Ravenclaw but use your brains.”
Hermione huffed, “Well, Pans, What do you think I should do then?”
Draco smiled, overhearing Hermione refer to Pansy with an adoring nickname even if she did so while agitated.
“Hermione, you are too smart and too much of a badass woman to stand here cowering about what he thinks. We all know what he thinks—”
“And what exactly does he think if you know so well, Pans?”
Pansy rolled her eyes, “Ask Cissa. She’ll tell you as much or as little as he’d want you to know.”
Cissa? My mother? Why would Granger have to ask my mother anything? Anything that makes her this...nervous? What the fuck did Pans tell her? If my mother tells her anything, I’ll wring her neck. Well, no. I won’t. Metaphorically wring her neck. I’ll metaphorically wring her fucking neck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Ginny sighed, exasperated, “I still say we just fucking ask him.”
“And scare him off? Absolutely not, Ginny,” Hermione responded.
How do you always manage to decide?
How can you let others decide for you?
“I’m on Ginny’s side here, Hermione. At this point, you’ll drive yourself mad, wondering if he feels the same way. There are only so many times I can tell you that he does before it’s a waste of my precious breath.”
“Oh, well, in that case—I can’t waste your precious breath,” Hermione giggled.
“So, you’ll ask?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Hermione replied, much to her friend’s dismay.
“C’mon, let’s go. People will be wondering where we snuck off to,” Ginny pulled the girls towards the large group of people underneath the largest oak tree in the garden.
Completely caught off guard, Draco found the nearest bench and sat with his hands covering his face and elbows resting upon the top of his knees. A million thoughts ran through his mind—none of them good.
Why is Granger so nervous to talk to me?
How the fuck can I be a good boyfriend if she’s fucking afraid to talk to me? Granger is afraid of me.
Fuck.
Why is Granger afraid of me?
How’d I manage to fuck this one up so badly?
Merlin, help me.
An abrupt cough pulled Draco out of his whirling thoughts. He looked up and saw Bronson staring at him, standing next to the bench, hands in his pockets. Draco turned his head towards the empty section on the bench; Bronson took the cue and sat down next to his fiancé’s best friend.
Draco explained the conversation he overheard the girls previously having to Bronson without bothering to look at him. He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to face anyone right now. Draco felt his airways collapse; his lungs began to fill with water. He felt like he was drowning, no land in sight. Frantically spinning around, he realized that the waves pulling him down continued for as far as the eyes could see. He felt so close to giving up, allowing the current to pull him under, to surrender to the anxiety and helplessness that suffocated him. Little did he know, all he had to do was stand. Just as Draco began to succumb to the anxiety, he inhaled as much oxygen as he could, straightened his legs, and planted them on the ocean floor. The moment his feet touched the sand, grounded him, the water around him disappeared, and he returned to the bench he sat on at Malfoy Manor. Draco turned to Bronson and finally took the help offered to him, realizing that sometimes you can’t face every problem alone. Bronson waited until Draco finished lamenting to utter a syllable. After knowing Draco for over a year, he knew to let him rant before adding any opinions or suggestions.
“If there’s anything that I know about Cupcake, it’s that she’s stubborn,” Bronson began.
Draco laughed at Bronson’s remark because of how true it was. Sometimes, Hermione allowed her stubbornness to run her life.
“Let her come to you. Give her time. She’ll come to her senses and realize that she’s stronger than she thinks. She’s never been meek, but I’ve learned that from time to time, she questions herself. She loves you, let her love you, don’t fuck this up by being rash or insecure.”
As Bronson’s words sank in, Draco nodded, acknowledging the advice. Both men knew that Draco’s insecurities ran deeper than anyone knew. In the few months Hermione and Draco dated, Draco and Bronson grew incredibly close. Bronson became someone Draco could talk to about Hermione and receive honest advice from. Draco grew tired of Bert and Ernie’s stupid commentary, and Bronson appeared like a burst of magic from Merlin himself. The friendship wasn’t an odd pairing like Draco thought it might be initially; he genuinely enjoyed the time he spent with the man that would stand next to Theo at the altar in the coming months.
“Thanks, mate. I appreciate it.” Draco smiled.
Bronson inclined his head and left Draco to his own devices. Forever grateful that he didn’t linger, Draco collected himself for a moment before deciding whether or not to return to the party.
The sky turned a deep blue as it transformed from day to night. Draco decided to return to the event his mother spent months planning; he didn’t want to disappoint her. He slowly walked through the freshly cut grass back to where guests lingered while they chatted and drank expensive champagne. Draco chuckled to himself, thinking about what Hermione’s reaction would be to the champagne, knowing it wasn’t nearly as expensive as the liquor they often shared. Goût de Diamants held a special place in Draco’s heart—he’d almost given her a heart attack when she found out the price. He’d never purchased it for them again; he didn’t need two of his loved ones dying of heart failure.
Narcissa spotted Draco and gestured for him to join her, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Ginny, and Bronson. Acknowledging he saw her, Draco inclined his head, put his hands in his trouser pockets, and walked towards the group with his head down. Lovely as ever, Brita said hello to him as he passed her table. Draco made a point to let her know he’d owl her about their plans in August. Before taking the final steps towards his mother and friends, Draco noticed Steph and Adrian chatting animatedly.
They look good together. I wonder if Steph knows about what happened in my office on my birthday? He wouldn’t have told her...would he have? They were dating at the time…
A hand grabbing Draco’s elbow stopped his train of thought. His mother looked at him sternly, and the pair made their way to the rest of their blended family. Not caring about the topic of conversation, Draco zoned out. Brought from his thoughts once more, he looked up at Blaise, who intertwined his body with his girlfriend’s.
I hope he’s happy. I’ve never seen him smile as much as he has since meeting Ginny. Ginny? Fuck. When did she become Ginny and not Weaselette? Sod it. I’ll find a better nickname eventually, until then—Ginny it is.
“She’s by the gazebo,” Blaise pointed to behind Draco with a glass of scotch in his hand.
There was a particular look in his eyes that Draco couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t quite a smirk, but the look made Draco feel uneasy. Blaise was up to something. Ginny nodded her head as well, signaling he best be going to find Hermione.
I have a bad feeling about this. I know these tossers are up to something.
Draco’s heart stopped when he saw her. Once a cliché, always a cliché. She looked beautiful in the moonlight. Hermione stood by the edge of a lake on the Malfoy Manor grounds with a one-hundred-year-old oak tree on her right. Fireflies buzzed between the branches of the tree, lighting it up. The bioluminescent waves rippled across the charmed lake; bright splashes of blue light rippled across the giant body of water. Just behind Hermione stood Draco’s favorite part about the manor gardens—the glass gazebo. The gazebo remained relatively empty, minus the lonesome bench and fireflies buzzing around. Narcissa left no part of the grounds undecorated for the evening.
I love her. Fuck, I really fucking love her.
Intending to act cool and collected, Draco stood beside Hermione, near the blooming evening primroses, and looked out at the glowing water, “Exploring the gardens?”
Surprised to see her boyfriend, Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh! I just...Uhm...needed a moment.”
“Would you like me to let you have that moment?”
“No.” Hermione grabbed Draco’s arm. “Stay.”
“Alright. I’ll stay.”
The silence that surrounded them wasn’t awkward yet wasn’t comforting. Draco sensed a pendulum swinging back and forth within Hermione’s mind, weighing out two different options. He let her be and merely stared out at the water, admiring the changing patterns of light.
Soft tunes in C major began to fill the air. As the night wound down, the band opted to play more melodic music. Edelweiss by Richard Rodgers filled the gaps between Draco and Hermione, the silence filled with beauty instead of passiveness.
“Oh, I love this song,” Hermione gushed.
Edelweiss, edelweiss
Ev'ry morning you greet me
Small and white
Clean and bright
You look happy to meet me
“So do I,” Draco’s cheeks reddened, “I’ve always loved this movie.”
Hermione turned abruptly, facing Draco; she said, “You’ve seen The Sound of Music ?”
Chuckling at her surprise, Draco continued, “I used to go see it performed live in Muggle London a lot before I attended Hogwarts.”
“With Narcissa?”
“Yeah, she loves the theatre.”
“She took me to the theatre once.”
“Narcissa? My mother? My mother took you to the theatre?” Draco gawked.
“Last week, yeah, she did.”
“How did I not know this?”
Hermione shrugged and turned to face the gazebo—admiring the magical light created by the fireflies. Draco caught her gaze, and she smiled up at him.
Blossom of snow
May you bloom and grow
Bloom and grow forever
Edelweiss, edelweiss
Bless my homeland forever
An idea brewing in his head, Draco extended his hand to Hermione. She tilted her head, waiting for Draco to confirm his intentions.
“Let me take you for a spin.”
Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand. Immediately, Draco pulled her towards him. The couple began the Viennese Waltz. Draco began the natural turn and moved Hermione around the garden, gliding between the lake and gazebo, counter-clockwise. They moved together, in perfect harmony, like they were horses floating on a carousel. Since Draco had more dance experience than Hermione, he felt comfortable fully taking control. Even if Hermione had been a better dancer, he probably wouldn’t have given her control of their movements.
His footwork remained simple—the beauty of the Viennese Waltz. Draco started on his right foot, continued to the side using his left, and then closed the right to the left before repeating it starting on his opposite foot. Luckily for Hermione, she only had to follow Draco’s steps. Even though she didn’t know the dance well, she couldn’t take her eyes off Draco. Instead of watching Draco’s feet to ensure she didn’t mess up, Hermione looked at him like his eyes sparkled and shined the way the ocean does at golden hour.
Small and white
Clean and bright
You look happy to meet me
The reverse turn approached, and Draco guided them through it flawlessly. His right foot stepped to the side, his left foot glided, crossing in front of the other until his right foot fell back and his left moved to the side once more. Neither of them lost the connection between their bodies as their feet traversed the grass. Sensing Hermione grew nervous when the change step approached,
Draco leaned down and counted in her ear. One two three, one two three, one two three. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly; she didn’t miss a beat.
Any previous awkwardness between the couple vanished the moment they locked arms. They felt at home in each other’s arms, moving their bodies across a dancefloor or, in this case, a garden. The bottom of Hermione’s dress swooshed with every step she and Draco took.
Blossom of snow
May you bloom and grow
Bloom and grow forever
Edelweiss, edelweiss
Bless my homeland forever
Hermione’s dress spun faster as Draco led her through a reverse fleckerl. She looked like a princess, secretly spinning through the night with the lover she promised her family she’d stay away from. In between the reverse and natural fleckerl, Draco slightly dipped Hermione in a contra check. The lovers whirled around the romantic garden, feeling free. Their bodies felt like air, floating amidst the stars of the night sky. Nothing else mattered at that moment—the world stopped. Draco let go of his anxieties and allowed himself to be present, to savor this moment with the love of his life. He’d live a thousand lives just to feel an ounce of the tranquility he felt leading Hermione through the waltz.
Once again, the lovers floated like heavenly bodies, painting the sky. The fabric of Hermione’s gown wove circles into the emptiness surrounding them—forming the Milky Way. Together, they mended the cracks in the sky, bringing light to the cosmic void. Draco and Hermione discovered a place, what appears as a hole in a galaxy billions of lightyears away, completely barren. Although this place was empty—a blank page—something drew them to it, something almost magnetic. Draco and Hermione found the chance, the place void of all matter—both normal and dark—and built their castle in the sky.
Just as they had months prior, their lives began again. Something shifted in the air that night. Neither of them knew it at the time, but this was their inception.
~*~
After bidding their friends farewell, Draco and Hermione floo’d back to The Blur. Hermione rarely spent the night at her flat anymore; why would she when Draco’s penthouse was twice the size of her place and had a gorgeous view?
“Malfoy, do you mind unzipping me?”
Draco walked towards Hermione and moved her hair to one side so it wouldn’t get in the way. He lightly brushed the delicate skin on her neck and shoulders as he moved her hair. A shiver ran up her spine; the lightest of touches from Draco always sent an electrical current through her. Draco internally smiled as he saw the cliché way he affected Hermione. While maintaining the faintest bit of contact to the curve of her spine, Draco gently pushed the zipper of her gown. Once free of the fabric, Hermione held onto Draco’s shoulder as she stepped free. In nothing but her heels, knickers, and bra, she radiated beauty.
The kind of beauty Draco saw in Hermione that night wasn’t anything overly sexual. He looked at her like she put every star in the sky. Her body was painted in bright pinks, blues, yellows, and reds as she held the moon with the palm of her hand—creating light through the darkest parts of the night. Constellations surrounded her, pouring stars from the rich curls of her hair. What Draco didn’t realize is she looked at him the same way.
She asked the night sky to bring her lover to her. So, one of the brightest stars in the sky—Rigel—stole Beta Eridani, the second brightest star in the Eridanus constellation, and positioned it so they formed an upward sloping line. Needing more light to pull Draco from the Earth to meet Hermione in the ether, the two luminous stars danced around Orion’s Belt until they all floated in what could’ve been a scalene triangle. Seeing the beauty of Orion’s Nebula, Nigel and Beta Eridani banished the surrounding stars so only the vibrant pink clouds finished their configuration. Less luminous stars filled in the gaps until the hand reached down and brought him to guide the protectors of the night with Hermione. Draco’s body sat fixed in the galaxy, held by one of the Lakota myths.
They shined bright—together.
Gently, almost as if she was too fragile to touch, Draco placed his lips upon hers. All their movements were soft yet tentative touches. Kinetic energy transferred between the pair, further igniting the worship and passion they felt for each other. Only hums and sighs and gasps filled the thick air surrounding them. Each graze across their skin caused the winds to blow—spreading the wildfire that already burned within them.
Draco couldn’t get enough of Hermione. His hands wandered across her feminine frame, tracing over the curves he’d memorized months ago. She whimpered as Draco only spread the flames that she desperately wanted him to extinguish with his body pressed inside of hers. She placed kisses on his jawline, right below his earlobe, solidifying her earnest devotion to him.
Slowly, the couple wandered towards the stairs before Draco stopped and kissed Hermione fervently against the railing. Before continuing towards his bed, Draco lifted Hermione and carried her as her legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Neither of them came up for air.
I wish I could do this forever. Have you forever. Be yours forever.
Draco was jealous. Jealous of the nights he didn’t spend with Hermione. He felt that fate brought them together. He couldn’t think of another reason why he got so lucky and found her. She’d been just out of his eyesight for so many years, sometimes he secretly wished he’d noticed her sooner. Noticed the way she absent-mindedly twirls a curl around her finger when she’s engrossed in a novel. Noticed the passion that explodes in her warm golden eyes whenever she talks animatedly about something she’s learned or loves.
Quickly, their thoughts and movements became a blur. Hermione’s hands fumbled to open the button of Draco’s trousers. Although their passion remained driven by love and adoration instead of lust, their desire grew frenzied. Their need for more, to experience all of each other, became impossible to resist. Hermione stroked Draco’s cock after finally freeing it from the confines of his boxers. Draco bucked his hips as he let out a low grunt.
“Faster,” Draco growled.
Hermione obeyed and increased the speed at which she stroked him as well as the pressure. She stared into his eyes, watching the pleasure contort his statuesque features.
Sensing her need for him, Draco moved his hand down her body until his signet ring pressed against her clit. Hermione cried out, thanking the God she didn’t believe in for the rush of intense pleasure that coursed through her.
Unable to hold back anymore, Draco freed his cock from Hermione’s small hands and lined himself up ready to press inside of her. With one last tease, he dragged the tip of his cock against Hermione’s cunt, relishing in the feel of her positively soaked for him.
He gently pressed inside of her, cautious not to hurt her. Once he reached the hilt, he stilled letting Hermione adjust to his size.
“Gods, Hermione. So tight. So good. So—fuck,” Draco mumbled incoherently as she circled her hips—grinding against him.
She let out a pleased hum as Draco began slow long thrusts. He drove into her with long-drawn-out thrusts, deliberate and calculated, pressing against the spot that made Hermione scream with a strangled sob every time he reached the hilt. He slowly increased the pressure he knew he built inside her, drawing back the waves. He didn’t just want her orgasm to crash like waves against the sand; he wanted to cause a tsunami—surge through her body, leaving nothing but sexual pleasure and euphoria.
Draco’s thrusts never relented but he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Once again, he pressed the Malfoy signet ring against Hermione’s aching clit.
“Come for me, Hermione.”
A storm surged inside of her as her back arched and hips bucked erratically. The high-pitched scream she released gave Draco great satisfaction. Watching Hermione come undone for him, knowing he was the only man that got to see her like this—beautiful, never failed to draw an orgasm from Draco.
“Good girl,” Draco praised Hermione.
Within moments, Draco cursed and his hips—for the first time—let up. His orgasm radiated through him as his seed poured into Hermione and his cock stilled at the opening of her cervix.
He rolled off of her and tugged Hermione towards him so their limbs tangled with one another admits the soft cream-colored sheets.
“I love you, Hermione.”
Before Hermione could reply, Draco spoke again.
“I’m in love with you, Hermione.”
“I’m in love with you too, Draco.”
He smiled before kissing her temple and relaxing his tense muscles.
Most of all, he’s happy that she’s happy with him. Draco doesn’t know what he’d do if had to watch her slip through his hands. He’d forever be jealous of the love she’d give to somebody new.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton
Walking into Variabilis Books felt like the fog clearing after a cloudy day. Draco felt like he could breathe at Variabilis—like he could truly be at peace. Every Wednesday, the sense of serenity felt better than the last. He walked up the stairs to the second floor, after saying hello to the Asier’s, like the ground was clouds and he floated in the sky.
I liked my books
and clouds
and sunsets.
Like déjà vu, Draco saw Hermione sitting in their bay window wearing her tattered jeans, borderline disgustingly dirty black converse, and a faded Misfits t-shirt. She looked perfect. When she looked up from her book, another sodding Bukowski, she beamed at her boyfriend. Her daughter of two dentists' smile never failed to lighten the room. Hermione’s aura turned the room a soft sunset pink. Cumulus clouds tinted a delicate pink-red color filled the space surrounding them. The doors of the celestial realm floated up from the bottom floor, coating the stairs and stacks on the second floor. Instead of the usual view of The Savoy, the window reflected a gradient of muted pinks, reds, and oranges.
Although Hermione lit up his world in hues of pink, Draco didn’t see her through rose-colored glasses. He saw all her minor flaws––her inability to make decisions over the most mundane things, her excessive need to be right at all times, her temperament, and of course, how hypocritical she could be. These were what people deem outright flaws, but Draco saw Hermione for who she was—simply Hermione. Cliché as it was, he felt that he saw her in a way no one else did. She stood before him as she was, unapologetically, and that attitude alone cast shadows on her less desirable qualities. Draco thought it took an incredibly brave witch to walk into a room and be one-hundred-percent true to herself no matter what anyone said. Hermione didn’t care about her swotiness—Draco saw that. She used her intelligence and desire for knowledge to enhance the lives of others. Without her, how could the absurdly rich procure custom spells?
Draco Malfoy wasn’t the smartest one in the room. Never claimed to be. Draco Malfoy took the smartest one in the room home every night, and only then did she give up control and let Draco show her that he knew how to pleasure her body better than she ever could.
“Hey, Granger,” Draco smirked.
“Malfoy,” Hermione inclined her head.
Although the lovers knew each other intimately, they occasionally acted as they’d only been reunited a few times since the war. Neither would be able to tell someone why they randomly behaved this way. Perhaps the comfort of the dance they performed around each other for a year. The security they now felt competed with the rush of quick glances and covert flirtations.
“Anyone sitting here?”
“My boyfriend is actually,” Hermione smirked.
Draco strode towards her and their bay window until he placed both arms on either side of the window, encasing Hermione. He knew she loved when he stood like this.
“He must be one lucky guy.”
“Feel free to take a seat, Malfoy. You can keep me company until he gets back.”
He chuckled before joining his girlfriend to look out the window and stare at the lights of London. All the lights blended together until London became nothing more than a ball of brightness—blending and morphing.
Hermione reached beside her and pulled out a book wrapped in brown paper tied with string, her signature wrappings. She handed it to Draco, whose eyes went wide the moment he saw the wrapping paper he so dearly missed.
“I know I haven’t given you a book in a long time. I re-read this one recently and couldn’t stop thinking about how much you’d enjoy it.”
With zero grace, Draco tore open the brown wrappings and flung the paper to the floor. He didn’t notice the wife-beater and leather jacket while his fingers thrummed against the worn spine. Hermione noticed Draco staring at the cover art and squirmed in her seat nervously.
“I swear I’ve seen this before,” Draco observed.
Hermione flushed, “It’s because you have. It’s my personal copy. I’ve, uh, annotated it already; I hope that won’t bother you.”
I love you.
Marry me.
I love you.
“Granger, it’s perfect.”
For the rest of the evening, Draco and Hermione read their respective novels. Draco noticed Hermione watching him read when she didn’t think he was paying attention. The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton captivated him. Hinton’s themes of a divided city, self-sacrifice and the preservation of childhood innocence hit home for him.
He couldn’t help it; it pained him not to watch her read. There was something about Hermione reading that mesmerized Draco. A glow surrounded her as she flipped each tattered page. No matter how new her book was, the tattered pages gave Hermione a specific gleam to her eyes. Warmth radiated around her; she stayed gold forever. No matter where Draco stood, the arrow pointing towards happiness always led him to Hermione.
I love you for as long as you’ll have me, Granger. As long as it lasts. I hope it lasts forever.
“Draco?”
“Yes, Granger?”
“Do you ever wonder where you’d be right now if I hadn’t handed you Gatsby?”
“All the time, love. All the time.”
“Where do you think you’d be?”
“Here, right now. I’d be sitting in this window, looking out at The Savoy, thinking about a girl in a Misfits t-shirt.”
~*~
Draco laid in bed next to his sleeping girlfriend. Hermione’s hair sprawled across her pillow, and her face looked worry-free. Draco hated when Hermione worried; he wanted to protect her, take care of her, forever. He vowed never to let the sight of Hermione wearing his Misfits t-shirt, oversized and swallowing her, leave his mind. She looked beautiful. Peaceful.
He couldn’t sleep; the day’s chaos from work continued to seep through his mind. Careful, to not wake Hermine up, he stretched his arm and reached inside his nightstand where he pulled out his copy of Bukowski’s poems, The Outsiders, and a pen. With a near-silent incantation, a soft glow appeared around the texts, allowing him to read clearly but not disturb Hermione while she slept.
Annotating Bukowski and then adding a poem to the inside of every book Hermione gave him became a ritual he savored. She didn’t know he did this; he wanted to keep it that way. From time to time, he’d flip through the handful of books he’d read because of her and smile at the words that spoke to him back then. Draco chuckled, realizing he defiled books with the unfamiliar written word just as much as Hermione did when she habitually cracked the spine of every book she read the moment she opened it.
Time went by, and Draco stumbled upon a poem that made him laugh so hard he whipped his head towards a sleeping Hermione to make sure he hadn’t disturbed her. Some nights she didn’t sleep well, she’d deny it all day long, but he could tell something ate away inside her mind. Something plagued her. He wanted her to get every minute of rest she possibly could—she deserved it.
Draco continued to laugh internally as he re-read the Bukowski poem once more.
we like to shower afterwards
(I like the water hotter than she)
and her face is always soft and peaceful
and she'll watch me first
spread the soap over my balls
lift the balls
squeeze them,
then wash the cock:
"hey, this thing is still hard!"
then get all the hair down there,-
the belly, the back, the neck, the legs,
I grin grin grin,
and then I wash her. . .
first the cunt, I
stand behind her, my cock in the cheeks of her ass
I gently soap up the cunt hairs,
wash there with a soothing motion,
I linger perhaps longer than necessary,
then I get the backs of the legs, the ass,
the back, the neck, I turn her, kiss her,
soap up the breasts, get them and the belly, the neck,
the fronts of the legs, the ankles, the feet,
and then the cunt, once more, for luck. . .
another kiss, and she gets out first,
toweling, sometimes singing while I stay in
turn the water on hotter
feeling the good times of love's miracle
I then get out. . .
it is usually mid-afternoon and quiet,
and getting dressed we talk about what else
there might be to do,
but being together solves most of it
for as long as those things stay solved
in the history of women and
man, it's different for each-
for me, it's splendid enough to remember
past the memories of pain and defeat and unhappiness:
when you take it away
do it slowly and easily
make it as if I were dying in my sleep instead of in
my life, amen.
-Charles Bukowski
Draco continued to thumb through the pages of his poetry book, lost in a world carefully crafted by the man who created the bookshop cliché. Draco tended to lose himself in the world woven by brilliant authors; he easily escaped his reality. A year ago, Draco would’ve loved to escape his reality and propel himself into a fictional world, but now, with Hermione, he didn’t want to experience a world without her. He’d trade every fantasy of the life he once dreamed of just to keep living the one he was now—with Hermione.
Finally, Draco found the perfect poem to transfer into his book. He clicked the Muggle pen Hermione gave him and began copying the script. His eyes darted back and forth between the books while he tried to keep his handwriting neat.
Making love in the sun, in the morning sun
in a hotel room
above the alley
where poor men poke for bottles;
making love in the sun
making love by a carpet redder than our blood,
making love while the boys sell headlines
and Cadillacs,
making love by a photograph of Paris
and an open pack of Chesterfields,
making love while other men- poor folks-
work.
That moment- to this. . .
may be years in the way they measure,
but it's only one sentence back in my mind-
there are so many days
when living stops and pulls up and sits
and waits like a train on the rails.
I pass the hotel at 8
and at 5; there are cats in the alleys
and bottles and bums,
and I look up at the window and think,
I no longer know where you are,
and I walk on and wonder where
the living goes
when it stops.
-Charles Bukowski
When Draco felt satisfied with his transcription, he lightly shut both books and returned them to their rightful place in his nightstand. He reversed his previous magic, and the light in the room disappeared. Slowly, he lay back down and positioned himself so that he could hold her small frame as he drifted to sleep.
~*~
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
-Robert Frost
Blaise paced the length of Draco’s flat at The Blur. He ran his fingers through his hair every time he reached the end of the distance he paced. Incoherent mumbles poured from Blaise’s mouth as he spoke to himself, forgetting Draco sat on the couch watching his anxiety grow. Amused at his friend’s nervous behavior, Draco counted one-hundred lengths before Blaise finally strode towards the bar and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey.
Draco questioned Blaise, “Are you done yet?”
“I don’t know what to do, mate. I haven’t got a clue.”
“I really don’t know,” Blaise continued lamenting.
“C’mon, Blaise. Yes you do.”
Blaise sipped his firewhiskey, not replying to his friend.
Draco continued, “You want her. Admit it to yourself. You’re happy, and you want things with Ginny to get serious.”
“I do not,” Blaise scoffed.
Draco raised an eyebrow, “Then why are you pacing around my flat over not knowing how to invite her to Italy with you?”
After both men downed the rest of their firewhiskey, Draco stood and moved towards his bar to replenish their empty crystal glasses.
“I don’t do serious. I can’t. I really should just end things with Ginny if we’re being honest.”
“That is one of the dumber things to have ever left your obnoxious mouth.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“I know exactly what you’re thinking right now.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“Your heart’s getting worse. There’s no denying it. Ginny makes you feel safe, and that terrifies you. You’re terrified of that feeling because you’ve never had security. You don’t know how to commit to anyone because your mother swung from dick to dick and your revolving door of dads showed you nothing other than the pursuit of lust is worth striving for.”
“Shite. Since when did you become so perceptive?”
“I’ve been spending a lot of time with Bronson these days.”
Blaise buried his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
You’re afraid to die. You’ve spent your whole life worrying about when you’d die and who you’d leave behind that you push people away when you start to grow too attached to them. You’re afraid of leaving people behind. I’m terrified of the day you leave Theo and me behind.
“I’ll come to Italy with you.”
Blaise perked up, “Really?”
The mood in the room shifted dramatically––it lightened.
“Yeah. I’ll bring Hermione, and we can do a couples vacation or whatever they call it. Will that make it easier to invite her?”
Nodding his head, the corners of Blaise’s lips turned upward. He could always count on Draco to solve the problems he was too blind to navigate.
The boys spent the rest of their Thursday evening planning how to invite Ginny and Hermione to spend a week with them in Italy. They decided to take them to dinner and simply ask—this only took them three hours to settle on. While Blaise and Ginny would remain in Italy for two weeks, Draco planned to take Hermione to Paris just like she’d asked at SUBALTERN.
~*~
While Draco and Blaise told their respective girlfriends that they’d be taking them on a trip, they never specified where. Pansy knew all the details and packed for both Ginny and Hermione. All three girls became what the Slytherin boys plus Bronson called “The Pyrite Trio” even though the off-brand version, them, was better.
Pansy couldn’t stop hinting to Draco that he would fall to his knees when he saw what she packed for Hermione. His friend had yet to disappoint; Pansy had a knack for fashion—knowing what Draco liked from years of dating definitely helped too.
~*~
Draco felt grateful for the memories he’d created with Hermione; he couldn’t wait for more—for forever. Just like every Wednesday, Draco and Hermione planned to meet at Variabilis to read together in their bay window. This tradition grounded the couple; it reminded them of the time they spent secretly pining after each other.
Seeing his name written in cursive, a book, sitting on the bay window, felt like eons ago to Draco. And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie became one of his favorite books because of that moment. It felt special—more special than most books she’d given him. The book felt like hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, one day Hermione would see him even just a fraction of the way he saw her.
Heading up the stairs, Draco looked back and waved to the Asier’s with a smirk written all over his face. He could tell they were suspicious of him but chose to say nothing. Since Draco had about thirty minutes until Hermione arrived, he didn’t rush.
Once Draco reached the top of the stairs, he took a moment to stare at the window simply. So much changed for him at this window; he felt connected to it now more than ever. After checking his watch, Draco carefully set the small brown box along with the note on the middle of the seat. Before heading home, Draco smiled and hoped his plan would run smoothly.
Hermione,
Is this how they do it in all the Muggle movies?
D
Five minutes after their allotted meeting time, Draco heard a noise coming from the downstairs portion of his flat. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw her. Hermione stood in his doorway holding up a keychain with a house key attached. Hermione stared at him with her head cocked to the side.
Finally, she spoke, “You’ve watched too many Muggle movies. Enemies to Lovers?”
Hermione dangled the keychain to draw his attention to it. The silver keychain showed a dagger with text etched over a black ribbon that surrounded the blade—enemies to lovers. The silver house key rattled against the metal keychain, suddenly drawing Draco out of her anxious haze.
“Well...the keychain isn’t wrong.”
“No. No, it isn’t. And this means?” Hermione nervously trailed off.
“You’ll probably never use it, but I thought it might be nice for you to uh.” Draco ran his fingers through his hair. “Have the Muggle version of us connecting our floo’s.”
Hermione smiled at him and took the final few steps needed before she stood in his living room. They still stared at one another, not quite sure what to do next. Neither of them had gotten this far in a relationship before.
“If you’re going to have a key, you’ll need to get a key hook to hang by the front door, Draco.” Hermine laughed.
Draco strode towards Hermione. “What do you say? Why don’t you come pick it out with me?”
~*~
On July eighteenth, Draco, Blaise, Ginny, and Hermione arrived at Blaise’s family vineyard in the countryside of Chianti in Tuscany, Italy. The expansive home sat on the top of a hill with the vineyard sprawled below that continued for as far as the eye could see. The Zabini’s only had one neighbor, and their property sat a few kilometers away.
Thousands of cypress trees sat on either side of the road leading up the long and useless driveway. Along with the cypress, olive and hazelnut trees roamed throughout the property. Lemon trees surrounded the house on one side near the spacious back patio. The view of the patio overlooked all the beautiful landscaping and nearby rolling hills.
The massive house, but not quite a manor, looked thoroughly Tuscan. Raw sienna, terracotta, green, and a golden yellow remained the primary color palette throughout the house with white or very soft grey accents. Stone, soft beige plaster, and wood gave the home a peaceful feel surrounded by nature. Vines scaled up the left side of the house, which tied in the green interior features to the exterior. While the home didn’t have an antique feel, it engulfed the inhabitants like they’d lived there their entire lives.
On their first night, the group opted for dinner on the patio at sunset. Blaise, Draco, and Ginny complained they were tired after a long day of travel, and Hermione commented none of them would survive a flight across the Atlantic. None of the purebloods grasped the concept of air travel, layovers, and airport security.
Blaise wore a simple orange button-down with plain light brown trousers. Even though Blaise worked mercilessly to transform Draco’s wardrobe, he hadn’t made much progress past adding more colors into the mix. Color was an overstatement; Blaise got Draco to add neutral tones that weren’t simply black and the occasional grey. Draco wore a plain white button-down with light brown trousers—a miracle within itself. Hermione wore silk ochre trousers with a matching jacket. Underneath the unbuttoned jacket, she wore a cream-colored bodysuit. Although Hermione could wear her outfit formally, her loose curls and casual demeanor made it perfect for a sunset dinner with friends. Ginny styled her hair in natural-looking curls and a light blue dress that ended mid-thigh. The light blue fabric with dark blue flowers scattered throughout accentuated her athletic frame.
The Zabini family house-elf followed the friend group to the vacation home. Dipsy laid out a beautiful spread of hors d'oeuvres—olives, hummus, bread, and various cheeses. Multiple bottles of white wines produced at the winery sat on ice beside the long wooden table on the second-floor patio. Lemons sat in wooden bowls instead of the typical floral arrangement display at a dinner table. Although Blaise freed all the Zabini house-elves after the war, most of them stayed—they enjoyed spending time together and felt at home with Blaise. Draco would deny this if asked, but everyone knew Dipsy was his favorite of Blaise’s elves; he had a soft spot for her. Dipsy returned the sentiment; she always told her that he was her favorite of all Blaise’s friends. Considering Blaise only spent time with Draco and Theo growing up, Dipsy just liked Draco more than Theo.
“Thank you so much, Dipsy,” Draco spoke to the elf after she placed wine glasses on their table.
Dipsy blushed, and the tips of her ears turned red. “Thank you, Mister Draco. Dipsy is so happy Mister Draco is here with Mister Blaise. Dipsy misses Mister Draco.”
“I miss you too, Dipsy. You’ll have to come by the manor for lunch with my mother, Mippy, and me. Mippy keeps talking about how much she misses you.”
Giggling to herself, Dipsy nodded her head and apparated back to the kitchens with a crack. Lunch with Mippy, Dipsy, and his mother wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Draco. Over the years, most of the elves joined the Malfoy’s, Nott’s, and Zabini’s for meals—they’d become separate families but also a giant family after the death of the darkness that formerly clouded the various manors. Although Mrs. Zabini wasn’t dead—she basically was to Blaise. He hadn’t seen her since last Christmas, and after an unsuccessful attempt at husband number eight in Italy, she relocated to the south of France.
~*~
A few days into their trip, Draco grabbed Hermione’s upper arm to hold her still. Their gaze, filled with lust, desire, and a need for release that they hadn’t had in days, burned through them.
Draco licked his lips, “Blaise...gifted me something for my birthday last month.”
“Uh-huh,” Hermione kept her response brief so he would continue.
Draco went to his nightstand he used in their room and pulled out two purple vials. He held them up to Hermione, allowing her thoughts to race and the anticipation to build.
“It’s a desire potion. When we both drink it, the magic finds a sexual fantasy in our minds and takes us there, so we’re actively engaging in the fantasy.”
“Does it—does it use our deepest desire?”
Draco raised his eyebrows before he locked his eyes on her, giving her his undivided attention. Hermione licked her lips, eagerly awaiting his response. He noticed her hips slightly shift towards him, bringing their bodies closer together.
He leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“No, it doesn’t. It takes both of our fantasies into consideration and brings us to the ones we’d both like—sort of like an algorithm.”
“And we actually get to indulge? It isn’t just visuals?”
Draco stepped closer to his girlfriend, his hot breath on her ear as he spoke, “It’s real. I’d get to feel you—even taste you. Every moan you’d make for me, I’d hear. Every scratch you left on my back would remain a mark. It’s all real, Granger.”
Hermione visibly let out a breath that she’d been holding. Her chest rose and fell as the thick tension in the air grew. They both wanted this—wanted to experience an ultimate form of intimacy together.
“Now,” is all Hermione said before grabbing one of the vials out of his hand.
Draco took the vial and saluted her with a clink of the glass before downing the potion. Hermione followed his lead before both of them made their way to the fresh linen sheets that adorned their king-size bed.
Unable to hold off any longer, Draco fisted a handful of Hermione’s hair, arching her back and exposing her neck. Immediately, he dove in, kissing and licking and sucking so her sweet sinful moans were all that his brain could process. While Draco ravished her neck, the potion took over and transported him.
Draco looked down first, seeing a Hogwarts uniform.
His eyes went wide when he realized where he was—the Room of Hidden Things.
This wasn’t his fantasy.
His breath quickened, and his heart stammered, memories of this room consuming him, all the sleepless nights trying to fix the vanishing cabinet, Crabbe falling into the fiendfyre. The potion snapped him out of his negative thoughts—he had a fantasy to part-take in.
Without warning, the door to the room of Draco’s nightmares and maybe his new dark fantasy opened. Hermione clad in her Hogwarts uniform as well, only this time it’s slightly different. Her skirt is shorter, no longer finishing at the knee. Her shoes are still her usual mary jane’s, but her socks were higher and went all the way to under her knee. Hermione’s tie wasn’t rigid; it looked slightly loosened and almost disheveled.
Hermione walked through the expansive room until she stood before Draco and the Vanishing Cabinet. A book laid flat on the floor to the left of Draco—opened to a page on the charm Harmonia Nectere Passus.
Sixth year.
“What are you doing here, Granger?”
Hermione didn’t immediately respond.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Draco’s breath hitched as she circled him.
Her arm barely grazed his. He shuttered.
Draco questioned her when she didn’t respond, “Why are you here?”
“For you, Draco,” she said in almost a whisper.
Draco sharply inhaled before he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. He’d never heard the sound of his given name on her lips before.
“I know what you’re doing in here,” Hermione told him. “Repairing the Vanishing Cabinet.”
Suddenly startled, Draco protested, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“No need to lie, Draco. I won’t tell.”
Hermione played with the hem of his sweater vest, eyeing him with something Draco couldn’t quite place. It couldn’t be lust. No. Absolutely not.
“It takes a lot of magical knowledge to be able to fix this cabinet,” she continued. “A lot of intelligence. Do you know what attracts me the most, Draco?”
“No.”
Draco attempted to act unaffected. He really tried. He had Hermione fucking Granger trying to seduce him while he should be fixing a fucking cabinet for the Dark Lord.
“Intelligence.”
Becoming impatient, Hermione tugged on the end of Draco’s sweater. He couldn’t control himself any longer. Something about her had always done things to him. He’d pushed it aside for years but couldn’t hold back this time.
Draco cupped Hermione’s cheeks and kissed her; one hand moved down to grab her waist. She granted his tongue entrance immediately—wanting him as badly as he wanted her. Their tongues fought for dominance. Draco laughed internally. Does she always have to be in control? Can’t she let loose—let go?
He pulled away for a moment before leaning forward again. He growled in her ear, “let go, Granger. Let someone else boss you around for once in your life.”
Hermione moaned in response. Before either of them realized it, Draco had walked her backward and pinned her against the cabinet. Hermione gave Draco precisely what he wanted—needed—all of the control. In a flash, Draco pinned her hands above her head, Draco’s large hand holding both of her wrists in place.
Their kisses became frantic. Neither could get enough of the other. Everything about the moment set their skin ablaze. Draco’s task. The Vanishing Cabinet. Them. It was all forbidden, and the heat suffocated them. The only way they could get air was through the other—gasps and moans into each other's mouths.
With his free hand, Draco palmed Hermione’s breasts over her shirt and jumper. Affected by his actions, Hermione attempted to wiggle free. She wanted to touch him—badly.
“You don’t move until I say so, Granger,” Draco snarled.
She whimpered.
Wanting to explore more of her body, Draco cast an Incarcerous. As his hands roamed her body, she writhed against his large frame. His hands brushed against her inner thighs. The light touches incited wanton moans to flow from Hermione.
Draco looked up at her, asking permission with his eyes. She nodded vigorously. Without missing a beat, Draco’s palm pressed against her. The firm pressure of his palm caused more moans to float through the air. After allowing her desire to build further, he brushed his fingers against her throbbing clit. He intended to drive her wild. Each touch electrified their bodies. He continued to toy with her, using the faintest pressure on her throbbing clit.
“Draco,” she whimpered. “Draco, please.”
“Be patient, Granger,” he taunted her. “Good things come to good girls who wait.”
Hermione rocked her hips into Draco’s hand, searching for the sensation she desperately craved. In response to her disobedience, Draco ripped his hand from her body.
“What did I tell you, Pet?”
“To be patient.”
Electricity radiated off Hermione’s skin. Lust filled the air that surrounded them. Draco stepped back and admired Hermione’s small frame. Her breasts sat perfectly—round and perky. Her smooth skin contrasted with the thick black rope binding her wrists. They stood there, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. The fire building both inside of them and between them. Their prolonged eye contact shared a thousand words.
When Draco finally inched closer, his hot breath against her ear caused her to shiver. His calloused hand raked down her trembling thigh. Draco calculated his every movement; each touch served a specific purpose. To tease her. To cause her thighs to tremble. To make her ache with need. To want him.
His fingers lightly brushed her clit again, her desire for him nearly explosive. The intensity of her future orgasm increased with each touch. She yearned for him to give in and finally take her.
Hermione let out a relieved gasp when Draco sank to his knees in front of her. While continuing to hold eye contact, Draco lifted her leg and placed it over his shoulder. He could sense her sexual frustration—this made his experience that much better. He loved holding this power over her—control over her pleasure. His mouth peppered hot kisses up her inner thigh until he reached her lace knickers. Using only his teeth, Draco ripped off Hermione’s knickers. While Hermione processed the possessive act, Draco lavished her clit with his tongue. Her entire body convulsed as Draco’s actions flooded her with pleasure. Draco continued to lap her clit, switching from figure-eights to spelling his name to vibrating his tongue against her. Each pattern of his tongue escalated the fire building inside her. Once Draco sensed Hermione sat on the edge of her climax, he pulled away. She let out an aggravated huff.
“You’ve been so good for me, Pet,” Draco purred.
The sound of metal clinking filled the heated silence between them—both desperate for the other. In one swift movement, Draco spun Hermione, so her backside faced him. He wrapped the metal buckle of his belt around his hand and proceeded to lash her with his belt.
Thwack.
Hermione arched her back and cursed.
Thwack.
His leather belt cracked as it made contact with her tender arse.
Thwack.
Her perfect, delicate skin turned pink.
Thwack.
Draco’s already painfully hard cock stiffened at the depraved moans purring from Hermione’s full plump lips. Her arse reddened for him .
Thwack.
The sound of the metal buckle coming into contact with the old wooden floor barely masked the heavy pants between the lovers.
Finally ready to give in, Draco closed the gap between them. He pressed his aching cock against Hermione’s reddened arse so she could feel him.
“See what you do to me, Granger? What you’ve always done to me,” Draco drawled.
“Please. Please, Draco,” Hermione pleaded.
Still clad in her Hogwarts uniform, Draco flipped up her skirt for an unadulterated view of her arse. Without warning, Draco drove into her. Hermione let out a strangled moan at the invasion.
“Fuck, Granger. You’re so fucking tight.” Draco shuttered.
“Gods, Draco.”
Being unable to move was agonizing for Draco. Torture. Pure and utter torture. It took a few moments for Hermione to relax enough for him to move at all. Her walls crushed his cock—nearly forcing an orgasm out of him.
Able to set a pace, Draco didn’t hold back. Each thrust pressed Hermione further up against the Vanishing Cabinet, cheek flush with the intricate metal design. He never let up; she’d have imprints on both her cheeks.
“Harder. Harder. Please, Draco. Please.”
Hearing Hermione beg, beg for him, beg for his cock, only further aroused him.
“Who knew Potter’s Golden Girl was so filthy?”
The air around them smelled like sex filled with nothing but the sounds of their wanton moans and skin slapping against each other.
“Who knew Granger liked Death Eater cock,” Draco taunted her.
“Do you? Do you like Death Eater cock, Granger?”
Hermione bucked her hips into Draco, fucking herself on him.
“Answer me,” Draco snarled.
“Yes,” Hermione’s orgasm approached rapidly.“Yes. Yes. Oh, yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I love Death Eater cock,” Hermione wailed. “Oh, fuck. I’m coming. Draco, I’m coming.”
Instead of letting up his pace, Draco fucked her harder. His hips bucked into Hermione’s tight and warm cunt, fucking her through her orgasm—prolonging it. Her pleasured sobs only encouraged him further; he snaked his hand around her and grabbed her by the neck.
Shortly after Hermione’s body went slack against his, Draco reached ecstasy. Only then did his excruciating and precise pace falter slightly. His thick voice muttered curses incoherently as he filled Hermione with his seed.
Right as Draco leaned against Hermione’s body to press light kisses on her shoulder post-coitus, their bodies swirled—transported. When they landed, their bodies were no longer connected. Draco stood fully clad in his uniform but with a towel in his left hand.
Without having to look up, Draco realized where he stood.
The Prefects’ Bathroom.
His fantasy.
A soft moan pulled Draco from his thoughts. While Draco stood next to the door, Hermione’s body, surrounded by bubbles, splashed in the bath. Draco couldn’t see most of her; he only saw her head lying against the edge of the warm tub—contorted with pleasure. Her eyes remained closed as little breathy moans continued to escape from her lips.
Not even two minutes passed before Draco grew painfully hard in his trousers. The sight of her was too arousing for his cock to ignore for long. He’d imagined this for longer than he’d care to admit. He’d found her attractive towards the later portion of his years at Hogwarts. Draco frequently saw Hermione on her way back to Gryffindor Tower after a bath throughout their time as prefects. Whenever he saw her, a glow lit up her face—a glow he’d never seen before. For months, Draco imagined—fantasized—about what caused Hermione’s radiance.
Draco quietly shifted against the wall, allowing him to see her a bit better. He knew he should leave, let her enjoy herself with privacy, but he couldn’t. Her curls splayed out with her back arched so far he could see the dip of her spine and had a full view of her neck. He wanted to press his cold hands against her neck; he had to shake out his hand to stop himself from indulging. Even Draco’s breaths grew heavy as he watched her, desire coursing through his veins. If he thought his cock ached before, he was so wrong.
Unable to stop himself, the desire too strong, Draco palmed himself through his trousers. He almost moaned at the simple touch. To not stop the sound from leaving his throat, he allowed his head to fall back against the wall. Grateful he hadn’t made a sound, Draco relished the sight of Hermione.
From this angle, he could see parts of her thighs—smooth and ready for his hands to run the length of them. He wanted to feel her inner thighs locked against his head as he lapped his tongue over her aching clit. He wanted those legs hiked up, resting on his shoulders as he drove into her—filling her up the way no man could before. Draco summoned all his strength to keep quiet when he pulled his cock free from the trousers and boxers. He stroked himself vigorously—the sight of Hermione too arousing. Incoherent gasps and moans, Hermione purred as the intensity of her pleasure increased.
The new sounds that suffocated him with desire only made Draco grow harder. Draco wanted to savor this moment—the sight of her—so he kept his eyes on her. He made sure he didn’t close his eyes, not even for a second; he wanted to soak her in. He’d dreamed of this moment for far too long, far too many years, to miss a single second.
Hermione shifted slightly. She lay parallel with the bench underneath the bubbles and water and threw her left foot over the edge of the bath. She moved back slightly so her head could continue to rest against the cool flooring. She never opened her eyes—too immersed in her own world of pleasure. Draco felt his balls tighten. He could almost see how Hermione moved her fingers for her own body. Did she like being touched gently? Barely grazing the skin? Or, did she like more pressure? Would she fuck herself on his fingers? For him? Draco’s mind roared with increased hunger. He increased the speed he stroked himself with.
Draco’s foot slipped, barely a few centimeters, but the bottom of his dragonhide leather shoes combined with the wet flooring made the slightest of noises. Hermione’s eyes bolted open, and she turned her head to look at Draco. Her eyes widened at the sight of him watching her, pleasuring himself. Before either of them had a chance to speak or stop, Hermione’s mouth opened in a wide O. Her body writhed under the water, splashing all around her, her orgasm rippled through her body.
“Drrrrraaacoooo,” Hermione screamed in an extended moan.
Hermione Granger came while in a Prefects bath, screaming Draco’s name and retaining eye contact. The sight of her, coming undone, satisfied Draco more than any other sexual fantasy that has come true before. She looked beautiful. Draco wanted to see her like this—in pure bliss—every day.
Right as Hermione’s body stopped writhing and her panting subsided, Draco grunted as his orgasm seized him. “Oh, fuck. Hermione,” tumbled from his mouth before he realized and stopped himself. The look of shock mixed with intrigue—maybe even desire—on her face as Draco came drew out his orgasm. Watching her and seeing her come combined with her riding the aftershocks of her high while watching his cock pour his release over his hand extended the ecstasy. He’d never come so much before. Never dropping eye contact, Draco panted and waited for Hermione to speak first.
She quirked an eyebrow as she spoke, “So….Malfoy. Do you like watching or being watched? Is it the thrill that does it for you?”
“Back to Malfoy now?” Draco mustered some courage, “It’s neither, Granger.”
“Then what is it?”
“You.”
Notes:
A/N:
Instead of listing all the songs featured in chapters at the end of every chapter, I decided to make an AGIAMT playlist! Unfortunately, Spotify is annoying, and my name won't show up if you search "actanonvebra7," but the link works.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/20x23MAd6CzLTZEpmbggfm?si=e13ec0faf4a84b1f
Big thanks to my amazing beta miss @tomridswhorcrux.
I also want to thank @malf0y101 for giving me great feedback and helping me become a better writer.
Shoutout to @slytherin_chloe for all her help, as well as in cheering me on while writing and helping to encourage me to write when I felt stuck. I'm going to be the beta for her new WIP Business Affairs, it's already amazing, and everyone should check it out https://archiveofourown.org/works/29927943/chapters/73663323.
I'm always grateful to @chaotiquee for making me laugh with the memes she adds to the Google Doc and for yelling at me to write when I need her to.
A big big thanks to @Aykam, who always helps me with my fashion emergencies and helps me create wonderful looks for AGIAMT. You can check out her WIP Divine Wind here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260938/chapters/71853762.
Last but certainly not least, thank you to my amazing and talented friend Brita for creating such beautiful art for this chapter that ended up inspiring the Edelweiss scene. I'm in awe of your talent and so grateful for all the love you give me and this fic.
Mippy is borrowed, with permission, from the lovely Julie, aka Lovesbitca8.
I was inspired by the amazing artist Jacqueline Dubois when writing the descriptions of Draco and Hermione in the sky.
The enemies-to-lovers keychain was inspired by and based off an enamel pin made by Elithien Art.
Chapter Text
Following the end of their sexual escapade, Draco and Hermione whirled back to reality, and both came to. They lay on the bed, panting, staring at the ceiling.
Neither of them spoke at first; they just laid there, the ceiling fan spinning aimlessly. The sun’s rays shone in through their window, the linen curtains swaying with the breeze. Although it felt like they’d been gone for hours, only a few minutes had passed. As the evening continued to approach, dinner only an hour away, Draco spoke first.
“So...The Room of Hidden Things, eh?”
Draco’s smirk stuck to his face like the plaster-lined walls of the Zabini family vineyard.
Hermione’s cheeks and chest turned a glorious red, “I—uh—”
If only Hermione knew Draco loved the red tint of her cheeks; the hue made him feel alive.
He sensed her nervousness and embarrassment, “I liked it.” Draco turned onto his side, using his hand and elbow as a headrest, and gently tucked her curls behind her ear. Hermione tried to hide her face from him.
Draco pushed further, “Don’t hide from me, Granger.”
She immediately perked up, so Draco kept going.
“Did you want this? Feel this? In sixth year?”
Draco took his turn, hiding a slight blush.
Completely switching roles, Hermione pushed herself up and maintained eye contact with her suddenly on edge boyfriend.
“Romantically? No.”
Draco’s face dropped, the disappointment evident all over his face.
“Sexually?”
Draco’s face perked up again, apprehensive yet anxiously awaiting her answer.
“Yes.”
Hermione continued while Draco’s eyes remained wide and excited like a puppy about to receive a treat and some cuddles.
“Even though you looked lifeless and dull sixth year—”
“Hey!” Draco interjected, pouting slightly.
“Hearing what you did with the Vanishing Cabinet made me give you a second look for the first time in years.”
“You gave me...a second look...before sixth year?”
“For whatever reason, in first year, I thought the pompous pointy boy was kind of cute.”
“I wasn’t pompous or pointy,” Draco protested.
Hermione raised her eyebrow, casting him a look that screamed, “Don’t kid yourself.”
Draco put both of his hands in the air in defeat.
An aggressive knock on the door halted the rest of their conversation. Draco quickly hopped out of bed and opened the door to peek his head out. Blaise barged through the door and into the room instead of respecting the couple’s privacy, pushing Draco aside.
Hermione glared at Blaise but couldn’t keep a straight face for long; everyone eventually burst out laughing at her attempt to be stern. Blaise informed the couple, mainly Hermione, to be ready for dinner in thirty minutes and wear clothes she’d be comfortable in. Hermione looked utterly confused as Blaise winked at Draco before heading out the door and leaving them to dress.
As she got ready for the next half an hour, Hermione bombarded Draco with question after question about the evening ahead of them. No matter how insistent she became, Draco didn’t bend; her interrogation failed.
While Hermione got ready, Draco slipped out of the room to find Blaise. After searching for Blaise in his room, he went downstairs and found him reading a book on the sofa. Blaise dressed casually—for Blaise. He wore black jeans, a black t-shirt, black boots, a black belt with a silver buckle, and a camel-colored jacket.
“Since when do you read?” Draco asked.
Blaise shut the book and shrugged. “Figured I should see what you and Granger are always on about. Still not my thing, though.”
“I guess you haven’t found one of the girls’ trashy porn novels yet?” Draco chuckled.
Blaise perked up. “They make those?” He questioned Draco eagerly.
Draco simply rolled his eyes at his friend’s enthusiasm. He softly smiled to himself, grateful for the extra time he got to spend with Blaise. He would’ve been more than happy if his friends and family accepted his relationship with Hermione—tolerated it. The fact that Hermione integrated herself so well into his life, befriending his friends and growing close with Narcissa, brought Draco more joy and elation. Hermione became intertwined into every aspect of Draco’s life; she couldn’t un-tie herself without taking pieces with her if things ended between them.
While waiting for Ginny and Hermione to finish up, the Slytherin men went over the final details for their surprise evening. Both of them loved surprising their girlfriends. Loved spoiling them. Loved them. Simply loved them.
“I’m surprised Pansy even packed me something so casual,” Hermione blurted as she found Draco and Blaise huddling in the corner of the sitting room.
Both boys whipped their heads to find Hermione standing before them in light wash denim overalls, a white t-shirt, and somewhat white trainers.
“You look lovely, Granger,” Blaise mentioned casually.
Hermione blushed slightly. “Thank you, Blaise.”
Draco strode towards Hermione, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
He whispered in her ear, “You look beautiful as always.”
She smiled under his embrace.
“I’ll never get tired of seeing your smile.”
Hermione looked up at Draco, beaming at his kind words.
“Granger?”
“Yes?”
“I think I’m addicted to you; you’re my favorite drug. I can’t get enough of you.”
Glass walls erected around them, colors shone through, reflecting an array of reds, blues, greens, pinks, and purples. Plaster walls and large staircases followed, creating an intricate labyrinth. White linen drapes and sheets came next, the summer air flowing between them. Dark beige finally rose from the floor and captured the love between them—holding it close. Lastly, English ivy climbed up the sides of the walls. Clinging vine wrapped around them—keeping them safe.
His love for her built a home.
“Malfoy?”
“Yes, Granger?”
“If you’re an addict, so am I, and I don’t ever want to get clean.”
In true Blaise fashion, he coughed. Ginny, who entered while Draco and Hermione had their moment, laughed at Blaise’s antics.
“So, are we ready for dinner?”
Hermione nodded and joined Ginny, who wore simple black trousers and a cobalt blue top. Draco overheard her whisper to Hermione, “How in Merlin’s name did you get Draco to wear denim?”
Hermione answered honestly, “I had nothing to do with it.”
Draco’s simple medium wash denim and white t-shirt shocked everyone. He tried not to draw too much attention to his wardrobe, but even Ginny gave him a sly look which he shook off. His deviation from his normal attire certainly had nothing to do with Hermione confessing she thought he looked attractive in Muggle clothing.
“Ass,” Draco whispered to Blaise before jabbing his elbow into his stomach.
The four friends left the confines of the home walls and meandered down towards the vineyard. The summer sun felt warm, and the light reflected off Hermione’s tan skin, illuminating her with a halo.
Once the group reached the vines, both girls gasped. In between the Sangiovese grapes sat a large cypress tree table atop a cream-colored picnic blanket large enough for half a dozen people. The table decor was kept rather simple, only adorned with the delicious meal they’d soon consume. Dipsy prepared crostini with sliced heirloom tomatoes, red onion, olive oil, basil, and salt for an antipasto, which she served as a simple salad. The colorful tomatoes popped against the light-colored wood. As their main course, Dipsy prepared an unusual flatbread. Hummus coated the top of the flatbread, in place of traditional red sauce, with sliced figs on top and a drizzle of honey across the entire dish. The sweet and savory paired perfectly together and furthered the light and airy meals Dipsy loved to concoct.
Ginny leaned in towards Blaise, stood on the tips of her toes, and kissed him while muttering something inaudible under her breath. Draco noticed the shy smiles gracing both their faces causing him to smile.
Hermione looked up at Draco, questioning the sudden glow of his small smile, “Hmmmm?”
“It’s nothing.” Draco kissed the top of Hermione’s head and pulled her closer towards him.
Not taking no for an answer, Hermione tilted her head up towards him, the back of her head falling against his muscular chest. “It’s not nothing.”
“Blaise looks happy. Seeing him happy makes me happy.”
Hermione smiled and then shook her head. “Was that really that hard?”
“I can’t tell you about all my warm and fuzzy feelings, Granger. You might think I’ve gone soft on you,” he chuckled.
“Let’s be honest, Malfoy. You’ve always been soft.”
Draco opened his mouth to protest but knew better. Hermione was right. He’d never not been a cloud of happiness around her.
You get tough like me and you don't get hurt.
You look out for yourself and nothin' can touch you…
Relaxing for a moment, Draco rested his chin on top of Hermione’s head and looked out around him. Fifteen-year-old Draco wouldn’t have ever fathomed the life he’d built for himself. During sixth year he didn’t think he’d live past the war. Now, in his mid-twenties, Draco stood with the love of his life and his best friends in the middle of a private vineyard in Tuscany, Italy, and he stood there happier than any cliche movie or poem could describe. He lived in a world of his own; nothing else mattered except the people with him at this moment—Hermione, Ginny, and Blaise. This, right here, was a moment that Draco would tell his kids about one day. The pure elation from surrounding yourself with loved ones in one of the most beautiful places on Earth. This is living, Draco thought. He smiled to himself again.
Did I just include Gin in a list of my best friends? Did I just call her Gin? Fucking Gin? Hermione’s going to be way too excited at that one. Ginny isn’t too bad if I’m being honest. Not too bad? Come on, Draco, don’t lie to yourself. She’s great. She’s wonderful, and she makes Blaise happy, and she one-hundred-percent belonged in Slytherin. Now that I think about it, I still have to work on convincing Hermione of this; Gin won’t outwardly admit she agrees with Blaise and me, but we both know she knows she would have found true friends in Slytherin. I can’t wait for next month. Just one more month and forever will start.
“Draco. Draco. Earth to Draco,” Ginny said as she waved her hand in front of his face.
“Sorry, what?”
“Ready to eat?”
“Oh, yeah. You ready, Granger?”
“Always.”
~*~
A fluffy white comforter kept the couple warm while a light morning breeze blew in through the window. Sheer cream-colored linen curtains fluttered in the wind while the relaxing call of the European bee-eater slowly woke Draco. At only seven am, the sun rose to its position high in the sky.
I want to wake up like this every morning for the rest of my life.
Ready to spend the day with the love of his life, Draco kissed Hermione’s neck to wake her slowly. Hermione stirred, clearly on the brink of consciousness. Draco continued to kiss her neck, moving towards her temples and the top of her head. Hermione rolled over and smiled at Draco.
I wish I could take this moment and bottle it up. I’d live right here, right now, forever.
The moment in time was gone in an instant. In less than a second, Hermione shot up and then immediately ran towards their ensuite bathroom. Without missing a beat, Draco followed, extremely concerned for his girlfriend.
When he reached the restroom, Hermione had locked the door. Draco tried an Alohamora but the lock wouldn’t open. Give it to Hermione to create a spell that’s resistant to an Alohamora.
Draco paced in front of the door, incredibly worried about Hermione.
Guess I have to do this the Muggle way.
Draco stepped back and then threw himself at the locked door, putting all his weight behind the charge. When the door broke off the hinges, Hermione screamed. Draco peered inside and saw Hermione doubled over in front of the toilet, hair swept to one side.
Neither of them had more than one glass of wine the night before.
In what felt like the most cliche slow-motion scene, Hermione turned her head to make eye contact with Draco. Neither of them said a word, but during their glance, they exchanged a thousand words. Both of them knew.
“Granger…” Draco said slowly.
She looked tense, terrified. “Malfoy.”
He slowly moved towards her, extending his hand as if he were asking her for a dance. Hermione grabbed it and pulled herself off the floor. He placed his hand on her stomach and muttered a spell under his breath, so quiet even Hermione couldn’t hear his exact words.
A small, white, and gold glowing ball rose from Hermione’s stomach and floated in the small space between them. Both Draco and Hermione sucked in a breath.
“Fuck.” Draco let out the air he’d been holding in first. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He peered down at Hermione, who had tears in her eyes, happy or sad; he couldn’t tell.
“I-I need. Air. Space.” Draco slowly backed out of the restroom with fear etched into every corner of his face.
“Draco,” Hermione cried out.
He stopped, registering his given name on her tongue for the first time outside of the bedroom. It sounded like no other word belonged between her lips. That only those two syllables were worthy of flowing from her mouth. It sounded like paradise, almost like Draco should’ve dropped to his knees that very instant and begged her to say his name again. To say his name every day, for as long as he lived.
“Draco, please don’t go.”
Everything closed around him. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to leave, needed to leave immediately. Color continued to drain from Draco’s face until he looked nothing shy of the color of the first snowfall of the winter. The first snowfall of the holiday season is bittersweet; on the one hand, you’re excited for the upcoming season; life changes with a new season, and although sometimes change is hard, it’s exciting. On the other hand, autumn turning into winter turns the sky dark and the air frigid; life gets just a bit tougher, surrounded by the uncertainty of what’s out there in the dim and bleak winter landscape.
Draco woke up to the beauty and warmth of summer and was unprepared for the barren parts of a glacial winter. He needed time away, time in the southern hemisphere, to warm up and defrost, to enjoy the last bit of summer to prepare himself for the changing tides of the winter ahead.
~*~
Draco wandered the streets of Paris well past sundown. A drunken stupor awaited him when he wandered into a fairly empty jazz club. A cloud of smoke greeted him as he meandered towards the bar.
Hermione, Draco thought.
The smoke suffocating him transported him to all those nights at SUBALTERN; he couldn’t bear thinking about it anymore. Couldn’t bear thinking about her.
A single note transported Draco to Variabilis, the rich sound of a saxophone playing Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers. Their first kiss. He blinked back tears as the man playing in the corner played the saxophone pearls, the tune of Draco’s heartache and misery. The garnet lighting allowed for a single spotlight to illuminate the talented musician.
Draco huffed in annoyance. He really did know there wasn’t any sunshine when Hermione was gone. He didn’t need a reminder. Sensing his agitation, the bartender asked Draco for his order.
“Whiskey neat.”
“Coming right up, sir.”
Waiting for his first of many drinks, Draco returned his attention to the saxophonist. He absently drank whiskey after whiskey, not counting how many times the bartender placed a new glass next to him. After the fifth, or maybe sixth, drink, the saxophonist left the small stage, and the applause assaulted Draco’s drunken ears. A man with a deep voice walked up to the microphone and introduced himself and the gentleman on the piano who gave a little wave to the crowd.
Hey Charlie, I’m pregnant
Draco laughed mercilessly at the beginning of the next song while a few other patrons shot him dirty looks from around the room.
and living on 9th street
The sound of Tom Waits’ Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis taunted Draco for the next four and a half minutes.
Hermione, Draco thought.
Not wanting to get shushed and glared at again, Draco laughed to himself. What a cliche. He thought back to Hermione playing this exact song on the record player at his flat back in London. The two danced around while Hermione cooked dinner on the Muggle stove; he’d gotten his dream. He’d heard the song before but never knew anything about it. She explained to him that Charles Bukowski inspired the song. Bukowski. Fucking Bukowski.
So now, Draco sat in a dingy jazz and blues club in wherever the fuck Paris listening to a song inspired by the bastard that got him into this mess in the first place.
Fuck you, Bukowski. If she hadn’t been reading you, I never would’ve been so interested in her. Okay, that’s a lie. But still, I need someone to blame right now, and I’m choosing to fucking blame you.
Draco knocked back another whiskey neat before turning to the bartender. “Another, please.”
“You’re cut off.”
“Fuck you,” Draco slurred his words.
“Watch it.”
Draco shrugged and stood from his barstool, knocking into the patrons next to him in the process. “What’s your problem?” A random patron asked him.
“Gonna be a father.”
Another patron piped up, “Odd way of celebrating, mon pote.”
“Not celebrating.” Draco staggered towards the door.
Once he made it out the door, he ignored the whispers and stares of everyone in the bar. He needed to go… needed to go… He couldn’t remember.
Somehow he found his way to The Seine and continued his stumbling all the way to Pont des Arts. Draco put both hands in the air, pretending he held Hermione in his arms and attempted to dance. His dance was more of a drunken stumble, but he traversed the entire bridge.
She would’ve loved it here. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What have I done?
The waxing crescent moon looked down at Draco. Fullness. How could a moon signifying fullness be so, feel so, empty? Draco stumbled backward and fell against the locks that weighed down the historic bridge. He had everything he wanted, almost, so how could he feel so low? Draco loosened his tie and willed for the night to be over. He’d lost her. He’d lost the love of his life because he got scared. Draco’s fears weren’t of parenthood; he dreamed of holding and cradling a child of his own. Everything changed, and Draco feared change the most. He’d had a plan, and now would she say now? Would she think it’s all because of the baby? Fuck. The baby.
I’m having a baby.
His mother’s words rang in his ears, “Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted, my dragon? A family? A family with Hermione?”
It is what he’s always wanted, yet happiness seemed too out of reach.
Draco’s head fell as he drifted into a drunken sleep on the most famous bridge in Paris. He dreamt of how beautiful Hermione would look, cradling the moon, holding it against her trim belly. Hermione cultivated the moon; she nurtured it until it was ready to go to the sky and become a part of the world. He watched her as it grew; the more it grew and shined, the more Hermione glowed from within.
Loud chatter surrounded Draco’s hungover ears; the sound accosted him. Parisians moved around Draco, paying him no mind. Dizziness caused Draco to stumble and hold onto the railing while attempting to lift himself up. The sun beat down on him, reminding him that the moon had long gone to sleep.
Hermione.
He had to find Hermione. Fuck, he thought, remembering that Hermione was still in Italy with Blaise and Ginny.
I wonder if she’s told them? How could she not? They’d probably wonder where I ran off to yesterday, not like Hermione could answer that. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I need to go back to her. Need to find her. Need to tell her that I love her. And the baby. I love her and the baby.
Draco immediately ran back to the flat he owned in Paris where he was sure his mother would be waiting for him. He cringed, knowing Narcissa wouldn’t hold back any of her anger. He’d walked out on the two most important women in his life last night. What was wrong with him?
By the time he’d made it back to his flat on Île Saint-Louis, the sun had stood overhead. How was it midday already? When he knocked on the door, Narcissa answered like she’d been standing behind the door waiting for him all night.
“You bastard,” Narcissa shouted at her son.
Draco shuddered at his mother’s outburst. Although he was a grown man, his mother’s temper never got easier to manage.
“Hello, mother.”
“Hello, mother? That’s it? You’re gone all sodding night, and all I get is hello, mother? I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Don’t tell me sorry. Tell your pregnant girlfriend that you’re sorry. Better yet, go beg on your hands and knees that she doesn’t leave you and take that child with her.”
Narcissa’s comment about Hermione leaving woke Draco up.
“You think she’d leave?”
“After the stunt, you pulled last night, my dragon, I wouldn’t blame her.”
“I have to go find her. I have to. She can’t leave mum. She can’t. I can’t… I can’t… I can’t imagine my life without her. She’s everything.”
Sensing a breakdown from her son, Narcissa wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back in a clockwise motion. “I know, my dragon. I know.”
Draco’s voice cracked when he spoke next. “I’m so scared. What if I’m a shite father?”
“You’ll love that child feverously, Draco. I know it. You may even love her more than Hermione.”
“Her?” Draco’s head snapped up.
“Just mother’s intuition. I think it’s a girl.”
Draco fell back into his mother’s arms and began to sob. All his emotions poured out of him faster than he knew how to control. Mother and son stood like that, embracing in the doorway until Draco’s violent tears turned into sniffles.
“She’s upstairs,” Narcissa whispered in her son’s ear.
“She’s here?” Draco looked bewildered.
Before Narcissa could respond, Draco spoke again, “How in Merlin’s beard is Granger here?”
“I went to Italy while you were gone last night and brought her here. And, her name is Hermione. Why can’t you call her by her given name?”
“But, why?” Draco ignored his mother’s inquiry about how he addresses Hermione.
Draco’s mother explained that she didn’t want Hermione to feel alone while dealing with such big and exciting news. Draco nodded, understanding, when Narcissa explained that Lucius had also run off when she broke the news of her pregnancy to him. The couple had only just got engaged when Narcissa found out she was pregnant with Draco and Lucius freaked out. Like father like son. Eventually, Lucius returned with his tail between his legs, begging for forgiveness for deserting her. Narcissa didn’t want Hermione to feel as alone as she did while Lucius was gone. She stayed up all night with Hermione holding her while she cried and reassured her that Draco would return soon.
After his mother’s story, Draco burst into his Parisian flat to find Hermione lying on the sofa, holding the bottom of her stomach while she pushed it out. She looked so beautiful; Draco wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
She’s going to make such a wonderful mother. She’s going to be the mother of my children. Hermione Jean Granger is going to be the mother of my children. Fuck, how did I get so lucky?
“Granger, darling?”
Hermione whipped her head, so she faced Draco and let her arms rest on the sofa, away from her stomach. A scowl tattooed itself on her usually delicate features.
“You sodding bastard.”
Draco slowly walked towards the sofa, approaching his girlfriend as he would a lioness protecting her cubs.
“I’m sorry, darling. I’m so so sorry.”
“You messed up, Malfoy. I’d call you a son of a bitch, too, but your mother doesn’t deserve that.”
He dropped to his knees, opening himself up, allowing himself to be vulnerable. Draco looked at Hermione like her forgiveness was the only thing in his world that mattered, that without her, he would simply die.
“How can I make this better?”
“I’m not sure. I really don’t know if this is forgivable.”
How could I have been so stupid? Of course, she wouldn’t forgive me. How do I win her over? I need her—can’t live without her.
“But you promised me that everything gold can stay.”
If we don’t have each other,
we don’t have anything.
Hermione got off the couch and walked to where Draco knelt; she joined him on the floor and brushed a strand of hair away from his face.
“We have always been so much more than gold.”
Before Draco could respond, Hermione kissed his forehead and stood. She only hesitated slightly before walking out of the living room, leaving Draco broken and speechless on the floor.
Notes:
I know it's been a long time since I've posted, but writing stopped being fun for me, and I needed some time for it to become fun again. For this chapter, you'll notice that song lyrics were in bold, not italics; this will be the format from now on, and I'll eventually go back and change the italics to bold in the other chapters.
I decided to post the first portion of this chapter instead of waiting to complete the second half, so what was originally meant to be chapter 7 will now be chapters 7 and 8.
Get ready for some flashbacks next chapter because a lot is going to come together! Also, don't forget to check out the Jaxx art in Draco's birthday scene from a few chapters prior/ get ready for some Jaxx art coming in chapter 9!
This chapter is unbeta'd, and all mistakes are my own.
I want to thank all my friends for encouraging me to keep writing and leaving lovely comments in Google Docs.
I will begin posting on a bi-weekly schedule so that I will post chapter 8 on October 3rd.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for being patient with me.
Chapter 8: The Great Red Spot
Notes:
This chapter is unbeta'd; all mistakes are my own.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Everything felt so fucked. A mere twenty-four hours ago, everything felt so perfect; he felt so in love. Now? Well, now everything was a bloody disaster. He didn’t have anyone but himself to blame, and that’s what broke him the most; once again, it was all his fault.
He buried his face in his hands, trying not to cry. He felt like he’d lost everything in a matter of hours. Hours. It took him years to become the man he wanted to be, the one he was today, and in a matter of hours, he shattered everything. He sank back to the scared little boy he once was.
“Nothing gold can stay,”
meaning that all good things
must come to an end.
Nothing gold can fucking stay. Draco couldn’t get off the floor; he couldn't bear to face the world. His emotions flew around the room, knocking vases over and breaking glass. He couldn’t control the endless rage and embarrassment inside of him.
All he wanted was a do-over. Draco wanted one more chance. Couldn’t the universe give him one more shot? Another attempt at proving not only to Hermione and Narcissa but to himself that he can be the man he wants to be. Strong and reliable, and kind.
It felt risky, really fucking risky, but Draco had an idea.
He ran towards the fireplace and immediately floo called Blaise.
“Blaise, mate. Are you there?” Draco sounded impatient and anxious.
“Where the fuck have you two been? Ginny and I have been stressed over here,” Blaise replied.
“Oh, cut the crap, Tweedle Dee. I know you and Gin took the opportunity to bang all over the house.”
Even through the floo, Draco could tell Blaise blushed like a schoolgirl caught snogging in the corridors for the first time.
“I won’t object,” Blaise said sheepishly.
“Do you still have that Time-Turner?”
“Yeah. Why? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“How fast can you get it to Paris? I don’t have time to explain.”
Blaise was visibly worried for his friend but didn’t protest. Draco didn’t ask for help often, so when he did, nobody asked too many questions because it was usually dire.
“I’ll call Theo and have him owl it to you. He should be able to find it at my place. You’re at your flat in Paris?”
“Yes, mate.” Draco bounced his leg. “That’s where I am.”
“Alright. Give him a few hours tops.”
Just before Blaise was about to leave, Draco spoke again. “Hey, Blaise.” Draco took in a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Blaise nodded before signing off.
Those two hours felt like the longest of Draco’s life. Once the owl arrived, Draco sighed audibly. Everything would soon return to normal, and everyone would forget about his little meltdown.
Draco placed the Time-Turner around his neck and spun it three times, just enough times for him to return to the perfect moment.
July 29, 2006
After their quaint picnic, the couples visited an astrotourism site—Osservatorio Polifunzionale del Chianti. They had Osservatorio Polifunzionale all to themselves, a perk of Draco and Blaise’s excessive wealth.
Draco saw Hermione as the sun and the moon, beautiful at all times of day or night. He rarely got to watch her watch the moon and tonight he made sure he got to see all her ooooos and ahhhssss.
The girls looked through the various sized telescopes and watched the night fall. Without the light pollution they experienced in London, the friends witnessed what looked like millions of stars right above them.
“Malfoy! Come look.” Hermione gestured for Draco to join her at a telescope.
Draco joined his girlfriend at the telescope and looked through the glass.
“You can see your namesake constellation, Malfoy.” Hermione said like a giddy three-year-old child. “Isn’t that so cool?”
Draco smiled as he looked at the Draco constellation. “I’d never actually seen it before.”
“Really?” Hermione gasped.
“Nope.” Draco grabbed Hermione and hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her head. “I’m glad you showed me, darling.”
Hermione blushed. “Darling?”
Draco spun Hermione around, so she faced him. “Do you not like it?”
“I love it.”
Once again, Blaise interrupted their romantic moment to gesture for them to join him and Ginny at the largest telescope. The girls would soon see the real surprise of the night; the observatory was only the means to which they’d get to experience the treat.
They made it to the telescope just in time to watch Jupiter’s two biggest storms nearly collide. Both storm systems were larger than Earth and created a beautiful visual effect. The blue and brown tones blended and morphed to create a magnificent gradient on Jupiter.
Draco whispered in Hermione’s ear. “That’s just like us, Granger.”
He wanted to see what metaphor Hermione would use to describe them in context with the astrological phenomenon. Draco didn’t have a clue how they were even close to storms on Jupiter.
“Because we’re two giant storms that nearly collided and made something usually filled with gas, or in our case tragedy, into something utterly beautiful?”
Draco teared up a bit at Hermione’s comparison to their relationship. She usually wasn’t the romantic one, so these small moments meant more to him than she’d ever know.
“Yes, exactly like that. I love you, Granger. I don’t tell you enough.”
“I know you love me, Malfoy. I love you too; never forget it.”
“Oh, trust me, there’s no way I could ever forget that I somehow got Hermione Granger to fall in love with me.”
“I only fell because you caught me.”
~*~
Draco and Hermione returned from their date with Ginny and Blaise, filled with the atoms that flowed between them. They apparated directly into their bedroom instead of taking the time to walk through the villa—they couldn’t wait; couldn’t keep their hands off the other.
Once in the dark room, Draco muttered a spell under his breath, and suddenly candles appeared across the floor. Tall gold extravagant candle holders held tall candles with wax already dripping down them, lighting up the space.
Draco bent down and grabbed both sides of Hermione’s face. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”
He kissed her.
Their kiss was slow; Hermione’s mouth parted as Draco carefully slid his tongue into her mouth. Hermione didn’t try to fight for dominance; Draco knew how to draw pleasure from her in a way she couldn’t have previously imagined. He had all the time in the world; he knew it.
There wasn’t a rush.
Hermione softly sighed into Draco’s mouth. Her reaction caused him to slowly move his hands down her sides, leaving goosebumps across her soft skin. He continued to run his large hands up and down the sides of her hourglass figure, tracing each curve. Draco wanted to remember every inch of her; although he’d memorized her body a thousand times, he couldn’t help himself. Together, they floated away to the sweetness of a strawberry field—wanting to feel this moment forever.
With one simple word, Hermione’s clothes were gone. She stood bare before him, vulnerable and utterly beautiful.
“You’re gorgeous, Granger,” Draco whispered into her ear. “How did I get so lucky?”
In response, Hermione’s breath caught. Draco used the opportunity to begin kissing just below her earlobe. He licked and nipped at her skin with purpose, not moving until he’d properly devoured each part of her.
Once Draco made his way to her collarbone, he groaned; he traced across the area with his tongue. Hermione’s breath caught again, perhaps in surprise at Draco’s seemingly new love with a different part of her.
Hermione didn’t know that Draco already loved every part of her, even if she didn’t love them herself.
Deciding he’d adequately shown Hermione his love for her prominent collarbones, he traced his tongue down the valley of her breasts. As he continued to drag his tongue across her supple skin, Hermione moaned at the intimacy. He left kisses across her breasts and moaned each time his lips made contact with her skin—like he’d never had the opportunity before.
Draco worshiped her skin.
He swirled his tongue before latching on to one of Hermione’s nipples; her head fell back as she moaned loudly. “Oh, fuck. Draco.”
Happy with her body’s response, he moved to the other breast evoking the same reaction.
Draco kissed down her stomach, stopping just below her belly button. “I love you,” he murmured into her skin.
Draco, on his knees before her, looked at her like a dying man about to take his last breath.
He’d rather take his last breath than leave a part of her untouched.
He asked permission with his eyes; Hermione nodded vigorously, slightly pushing her hips towards him. Draco understood her desire and quickly began to draw pleasure from her.
“You taste like honey,” he moaned while sucking on her clit.
Satisfying Hermione’s deep lust turned into Draco’s favorite pastime. He nipped and licked at her aching clit for hours. Each time Hermione’s breaths sped up and her legs began to shake, he moved his tongue and wound her up all over again.
“Please, Draco, please,” Hermione begged.
Draco shook his head, wanting her climax to be extraordinary. He wanted to deny her what she wanted most a few more times.
Hermione huffed in sexual frustration every time Draco denied her an orgasm. “Please, Draco. I need to. I need to.”
“You need to what, Granger?” Draco smirked. “Use your words.”
“I need to come, Draco.” Hermione pleaded with her boyfriend.
Happy with her answer, Draco moved his tongue and began teasing her clit. After many denials, it barely took a minute for Hermione to come. Her orgasm rippled through her body like fireworks on New Year’s Eve.
“Fuck, Draco,” she screamed.
The sound of Hermione screaming his name gave Draco immense pleasure; he grew harder than ever and moaned into her cunt as he drew out her orgasm with lazy strokes of his tongue.
Draco stood up, holding his girlfriend close as her legs were unsteady from her intense climax.
“I love you,” he whispered again.
“I love you,” she replied.
Gently, Draco guided Hermione to the floor. She lay there, surrounded by opulent burning candles, while Draco quickly undressed.
When he joined her on the floor, Hermione reached down to stroke him. Draco moaned loudly; he knew he wouldn’t last long.
“Granger, if you keep going, I’m going to finish in your hand, and I want to be inside of you more than you can imagine.”
“What are you waiting for?”
Draco laughed and then positioned himself at her entrance before looking at Hermione for confirmation. Once she nodded her head, he sighed in relief before thrusting inside her.
His strokes were long and drawn out; he tried to savor every moment inside her.
Hermione arched her back off the floor as Draco slipped his hand underneath her spine to change the angle of their bodies. He kissed down the valley of her breasts again; he couldn’t get enough of her.
Draco worshiped her body.
He couldn’t get enough of her.
As Draco neared his climax, he leaned forward slightly and placed a kiss on Hermione’s forehead before he rested his forehead on top of hers.
“I’m yours, Draco.” Hermione sighed as pleasure continued to take over.
“I’m yours, Granger,” Draco replied.
After their intimate exchange, both lovers reached ecstasy together. Their sighs and moans and screams of pleasure mixed together within the fabrics of the universe. Their bodies became one, intertwined. Only when their orgasms subsided did the atoms that make up their souls return to their physical bodies.
Draco looked down at Hermione, his one great love in this world, and smiled at her.
~*~
The moment Draco needed to change the most came faster than he wanted it to. He watched himself race towards the locked door, terrified of what Hermione might be experiencing. He had no idea how much his life would change when he busted down the bathroom door.
With past Draco inside the bathroom, future Draco peered in to witness the scene before him. He cringed when he watched his reaction to what should’ve felt like the best news of his life. He was about to be a father.
July 30, 2006
He placed his hand on her stomach and muttered a spell under his breath, so quiet even Hermione couldn’t hear his exact words.
A small, white, and gold glowing ball rose from Hermione’s stomach and floated in the small space between them. Both Draco and Hermione sucked in a breath.
“Fuck.” Draco let out the air he’d been holding in first. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He peered down at Hermione, who had tears in her eyes, happy or sad; he couldn’t tell.
“I-I need. Air. Space.” Draco slowly backed out of the restroom with fear etched into every corner of his face.
“Draco,” Hermione cried out.
“Draco, please don’t go.”
Future Draco quickly hid as he watched past Draco run out of the room without looking back. The terror on his face was evident; he was scared fucking shitless.
I need to fix this and fast. Fuck. She’ll never forgive me if I fuck this up again.
Draco waited a moment to make sure the timeline felt believable.
He walked through the door to greet a sobbing Hermione. She looked so small, curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor. Draco wanted to rip his heart out right then and there. To think that he left the mother of his child, scared and alone, made him want to puke. How could he? How dare he? Draco’s thoughts raced as he bent down and brushed a piece of hair out of Hermione’s face.
“Hey, Granger. It’s okay; don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
Hermione sniffled and looked up to see Draco towering over her in the most protective way possible. “Draco? You’re here?”
“Of course I’m here, Granger.” Draco hated himself even more. “I just needed some air and to go grab you something.”
“Grab me something?”
Draco nodded and produced the flowers he’d bought her. A bouquet of carnations and roses.
“The fairest flowers o’th' season Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors, Which some call nature’s bastards,” Draco said.
Hermione looked at him in disbelief.
“Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, And do not call them bastards,” she replied.
Draco handed her the beautiful but simple bouquet. Before he could explain, she interjected. “A Winter’s Tale?” She looked baffled. “How did you know?”
“You have me so many books to read, Granger.” Draco chuckled. “You don’t think I’d read the play with your namesake?”
Draco sat on the floor with Hermione and held her in his arms. They sat in silence for hours, not acknowledging the life-changing news that they received. It was all too much to process.
They didn’t leave the bathroom floor until midday; the sun shined, and the birds chirped as if the world wasn’t turned upside down that same morning. The rest of the world kept turning while Draco and Hermione’s completely halted.
Draco spoke first. “You deserve flowers every day, Granger.” He smiled against her forehead. “You deserve flowers on your doorstep and love letters waiting for you at breakfast and ice cream every Monday.”
“Monday?” Hermione giggled. “Why Monday?”
“It was the first day I thought of. Can’t you let me attempt to be romantic?”
Hermione laughed. A real and true laugh.
After moving throughout their day on autopilot, Hermione lounging in the sun with an unsuspecting Ginny and Draco playing darts with Blaise, they wound up in bed together before supper. Ginny and Blaise suspected they weren’t actually too tired to eat dinner, but they didn’t press them on their excuse.
They just needed to be alone—together.
The news needed time to sink in.
Draco and Hermione laid in bed with Draco’s head resting next to Hermione’s flat belly. His hand stayed over what would soon be swelling. They laid there in silence, resting, purely enjoying each other’s company.
Serenity.
Serenity was the only emotion Draco could come up with to describe how it felt to lay with Hermione, to be with Hermione. She didn’t evoke the sort of butterfly feeling that most people talk about when they discuss falling in love. No. Hermione made Draco feel calm for the first time in his life. Being with Hermione gave Draco a sort of peace that some people chase with drugs for years and never reach.
The dawn was coming then.
All the lower valley was covered with mist,
and sometimes little pieces of it broke off and
floated away in small clouds.
The sky was lighter in the east,
and the horizon was a thin golden line.
The clouds changed from gray to pink,
and the mist was touched with gold.
There was a silent moment when everything held its breath,
and then the sun rose. It was beautiful.
“We’re going to have a baby, Draco,” Hermione said as she smiled.
“We’re going to have a baby.” Draco kissed Hermione’s belly.
Notes:
Pretty short chapter this go around. My university workload is brutal, so I haven't had much free time.
The next chapter is going to be a long one again. That being said, it'll take a bit longer. Expect chapter 9, featuring art from Jaxx, on either October 17 or 24.
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Don't forget to check out my little two-shot series! The Furniture Series is inspired by the current TikTok "couch guy" situation.
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